I never imagined working from home would turn me into Ruby’s full-time servant. For three years, I juggled my job, twins, and a never-ending list of chores. What started as a temporary plan turned into a daily grind. And Ruby? She barely noticed.

At first, I told myself I could handle it—diapers, dinners, deadlines. But as time passed, Ruby stopped asking and just expected. “You’re home all day,” she’d say, brushing off my exhaustion. I was drowning while she scrolled through her phone.

The final straw came when my mom dropped by, unannounced, holding lasagna. She watched me fold laundry, cook, and answer emails—her face tightened. “You work full-time too. This isn’t right,” she said, reaching for her phone.

Before I could stop her, she was dialing. “Mom, what are you doing?” I asked. “Fixing this,” she replied. That call didn’t just bring help—it sparked a conversation we should’ve had years ago. And for once, I wasn’t alone in it.