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So tonight, when my husband asks, “What’s for dinner?” I’m going to try something radical. I’m going to say, “I don’t know. What are you making?”

While brushing my teeth, I was mentally processing: Preschool snack sign-up (tomorrow), pediatrician appointment reschedule (the rash is back), dog’s flea meds (three days late), my mother’s birthday (next week, no card), and the exact location of the spare lightning cable (behind the couch, left cushion). mutha magazine

MUTHA readers know the stats. We know that mothers still do triple the amount of “cognitive labor” as fathers. But let’s stop calling it that. “Cognitive labor” sounds like a white paper. Let’s call it what it is: So tonight, when my husband asks, “What’s for dinner