Part 1The Easy Life

My husband's entire family thinks I have the easiest life.

When I was a stay-at-home mom, they thought my husband worked hard to earn money, while I had it easy at home with the kid, so I had to do all the housework.

When I went back to work, they thought my mother-in-law worked hard taking care of the kid, while I had an easy office job, so I had to take care of the kid after work.

I had no complaints about taking care of my child, but just because I raised my voice slightly while helping him with homework, my husband pointed at my nose and called me "crazy."

My mother-in-law mocked me: "You can't even do something as easy as teaching a child? What face do you have to scold him?"

Even my child said it was bad luck to have me as a mother, and that other kids' moms weren't like this.

Fine, fine. This "easy" life, I suddenly don't want it anymore.

* * *

At 8 PM, I came home from overtime.

My son was still playing video games with his dad.

I assumed he had finished his homework because my husband promised to help him with it today.

I asked casually: "Finished your homework so quickly today?"

My son didn't even lift his head: "Haven't started yet."

I was angry and questioned Liam why he hadn't supervised the child's homework this late.

Liam dismissed it: "It's just some stupid homework, what's wrong with doing it a bit later?"

My anger flared up instantly.

Since our son started first grade, I've always been the one supervising his homework. Only occasionally, when I worked overtime, would I ask him for help.

But even then, he was always perfunctory.

Either he was too lazy to check, not knowing if the child made mistakes.

Or he just let the child play.

When questioned, he would say the child didn't listen to him at all.

"What can I do? If you're so good, you do it."

Or simply like today, spreading his hands, completely giving up.

In the past, I would definitely have had a big fight with him.

But now I was very tired, having neither the energy to argue nor the desire to waste time.

It was already past eight, and the homework hadn't been started. Given my son's procrastination level, finishing homework would take until 9:30, then washing up, bedtime would be 10:00.

Tomorrow, he had to get up early for school.

I barely suppressed my anger, confiscated my son's Switch, and forced him to do homework.

My son looked unhappy, mumbling: "Mom is such a buzzkill."

Liam patted his son's shoulder, father and son exchanging a knowing look.

As if their common enemy was me.

Chanting "don't get angry, don't get angry" to myself, I sat down at the desk with my son.

But my son didn't even read the questions seriously, grabbing the pen and scribbling randomly.

I tapped the question with my finger, signaling him to look again.

My son dared not say anything, so he bit his pen and stared at the question.

However, this stare lasted for two minutes, obviously daydreaming.

This couldn't go on, so I started reading the question to him, explaining the key points.

But he was absent-minded. Just as I was explaining the question to him, he suddenly dived under the desk and fished out a toy car.

Obviously, his attention just now was not on the question at all.

I worked overtime until eight and was already exhausted.

Later, after the child went to sleep, I still had a freelance copywriting job to do.

Every second the child wasted now would delay my rest time.

At this moment, I was exhausted and couldn't help raising my voice: "Do you know what time it is? Can't you focus on your homework?"

"I've explained it several times, can you pay a little attention? Mom is tired too, can you respect Mom's labor?"

The child lowered his head under the scolding.

As a result, Liam rushed in directly, pointing at my nose and scolding me:

"You're crazy.

"Coming home with a long face, who do you want to show it to?

"Are you the only one tired all day? When you stayed at home with the kid, you said you were tired. Now you go out to work, you're still tired.

"Your broken job is so easy, how tired can it be? Can you stop being so pretentious!

"Look around the world, which mother is like you. Going out to slack off isn't enough, coming home to tutor a child and being so impatient, do you deserve to be a mother?"

I trembled with anger.

I raised the child since birth.

Finally, he started elementary school, and his father, except for occasionally playing games with him, hadn't taken care of him for a single complete day.

What right did he have to accuse me of not deserving to be a mother?

I couldn't help retorting: "I don't deserve to be a mother, do you deserve to be a father? Have you taken care of the child for a single day since he was born? What right do you have to accuse me?"

Liam sneered: "Didn't I earn the money? Without me working hard outside to earn money, just relying on your peanuts, could you live this good life now?"

Money again.

I only felt endless sorrow in my heart.