So remember my efforts to stop being the baby manager?
They bore beautiful fruit.
I wake up, and the baby is fed and changed, the baby laundry is done, the cover on the changing pad is fresh, and the diaper pail is clean. I don’t tell N to do any of these things before going to work. I’m not his boss or the baby manager. He does it because I managed to remove myself out of the way.
I lost many opportunities as a result. I can’t blame a demanding baby, an oblivious husband and a sexist society for not working on my research. I can’t enjoy an easy sense of superiority over N, I can’t relish the joys of victimhood. And I can’t write a weepy post about the horrors of motherhood that would attract thousands of links and hits.

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