Junya has his imaginary belongings. Now it’s my turn to have imaginary friends. Annoying ones.

This is how it feels like to spend a usual day at home. A dozen of imaginary oompa loompas trying to interrupt, distract and stop you from achieving anything at all. A few parachuting zigzag across the room, some climb right next to your ear and start playing drums, some eating ice creams that are already melting away at the spot you have just cleaned, a couple more bursting helium balloons everywhere else and one crawling at your leg crying to be picked up.

You know how some mothers will be like, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD IT IS TO BE A MOM!” and the fathers are like, “YEA THEN WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT WORKING YOUR ASS OFF IN AN OFFICE?” and then the both of them just go on and on about whose job requires greater sanity and should be put higher on the pedestal.

I never dared to say that a husband’s job is easier than a housewife/mother’s, because, well, what do I know, really? I bet both are equally challenging!

But then I bet if you work in the office, this probably wouldn’t be the description of your day:

You go to office at 7am. Your boss asks you to make him a cup of coffee. You bring him a cup of coffee, but now he wants a glass of strawberry milk instead, and also hands you a pile of documents to work on. After you are done with all the documents, he dumps it into the paper shredder so now you have to do it all over again, and then you have to tidy up your work desk AND your boss’s. For some reason you are expected to tidy up your colleagues’ too. At the meantime there are 45 errands waiting for you to complete within 20 minutes. You skip lunch to settle some of the nonsense. Your boss calls you into his office every 5 minutes to tell you what he is unhappy about your work. When you try to explain yourself, he just flips the table and throws everything on the floor, and then demands a cup of coffee. On your way to the coffee machine an angry bear appears and stabs you in the left foot with a fork, before throwing up a half-digested donut all over your shirt. You pick up the disintegrated donut bits and eat them as lunch. The second half of the day sort of just repeats itself. Except that instead of an angry bear this time an old goat punches you in the face. Finally you get off work at… I dunno, midnight?

And now, imagine you have TWO bosses in the same office. Who fight with each other all the time, have entirely opposite opinions and want you to listen and obey them AT THE SAME TIME.

Now please remind yourself that you also have no annual leave, no public holidays, no salary, no such thing as a sick leave. Cannot even fake an MC because… it is just not allowed. The only plus point of this job is that you can wear pajamas to work and it is acceptable to look very, very unpresentable at work.

Yeap. Want to resign yet? HAHA YOU CAN’T. Your employment contract has no exit clause. Woohooo. And no, you have no ground to sue your bosses lol.

What can I say? A mother’s job is… very different from any other job in this world. Hahahha.


So yes. I dedicate this to all mothers in this world. You guys are awesome. You have the shittiest job in the world (count how many diapers you have changed?), yet you do it the best. Happy Mother’s Day in advance.

Also, today is my mom’s birthday. Happy birthday 🙂

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