Six months postpartum, drowning in baby laundry, and exhausted beyond words, I thought my husband would understand when our washing machine broke. But instead of helping, he shrugged and said, “Just wash everything by hand—people did it for centuries.”
I never thought I’d spend this much time doing laundry.
A tired woman in a chair | Source: Pexels
Six months ago, I gave birth to our first baby. Since then, my life had turned into a never-ending cycle of feeding, changing diapers, cleaning, cooking, and washing. So much washing. Babies go through more clothes in a day than an entire football team.
On a good day, I washed at least eight pounds of tiny onesies, burp cloths, blankets, and bibs. On a bad day? Let’s just say I stopped counting.
A woman doing laundry | Source: Pexels
So when the washing machine broke, I knew I was in trouble.
I had just pulled out a soaking pile of clothes when it sputtered, let out a sad grinding noise, and died. I pressed the buttons. Nothing. I unplugged it, plugged it back in. Nothing.
My heart sank.
When Billy got home from work, I wasted no time.
A tired puzzled woman | Source: Pexels
“The washing machine is dead,” I said as soon as he stepped through the door. “We need a new one.”
Billy barely looked up from his phone. “Huh?”
“I said the washing machine broke. We need to replace it. Soon.”
He nodded absently, kicked off his shoes, and scrolled through his screen. “Yeah. Not this month.”
A man on his phone in his living room | Source: Pexels
I blinked. “What?”
“Not this month,” he repeated. “Maybe next month when I get my salary. Three weeks.”
I felt my stomach twist. “Billy, I can’t go three weeks without a washing machine. The baby’s clothes need to be cleaned properly every day.”
A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels
Billy sighed like I was asking for something unreasonable. He put his phone down and stretched his arms over his head. “Look, I already promised to pay for my mom’s vacation this month. She really deserves it.”
I stared at him. “Your mom’s vacation?”
“Yeah. She’s been babysitting for us. I thought it’d be nice to do something for her.”
Babysitting?
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
I swallowed hard. His mother came over once a month. She sat on the couch, watched TV, ate the dinner I cooked, and took a nap while the baby slept. That wasn’t babysitting. That was visiting.
Billy kept talking like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “She said she needed a break, so I figured I’d cover her trip. It’s just for a few days.”
A man talking to his wife in his kitchen | Source: Pexels
I crossed my arms. “Billy, your mom doesn’t babysit. She comes over, eats, naps, and goes home.”
He frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Oh, really? When was the last time she changed a diaper?”
Billy opened his mouth, then shut it. “That’s not the point.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I think it is.”
A couple arguing in their kitchen | Source: Pexels
He groaned, rubbing his face. “Look, can’t you just wash everything by hand for now? People used to do that for centuries. Nobody died from it.”
I stared at him, feeling my blood boil. Wash everything by hand. Like I wasn’t already drowning in work, exhausted, aching, and running on three hours of sleep a night.
An angry woman clutching her head | Source: Pexels
I took a slow, deep breath, my hands clenching into fists. I wanted to yell, to scream, to make him understand how unfair this was. But I knew Billy. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind.
I exhaled and looked at the pile of dirty clothes stacked by the door. Fine. If he wanted me to wash everything by hand, then that’s exactly what I’d do.
The first load wasn’t so bad.
A pile of clothes | Source: Pexels
I filled the bathtub with soapy water, dropped in the baby’s clothes, and started scrubbing. My arms ached, but I told myself it was temporary. Just a few weeks.
By the third load, my back was screaming. My fingers were raw. And I still had towels, bedsheets, and Billy’s work clothes waiting for me.
A tired woman sitting near a bathtub | Source: Midjourney
Every day was the same. Wake up, feed the baby, clean, cook, do laundry by hand, wring it out, hang it up. By the time I was done, my hands were swollen, my shoulders stiff, and my body exhausted.
Billy didn’t notice.
A bored man on a couch | Source: Pexels
He came home, kicked off his shoes, ate the dinner I cooked, and stretched out on the couch. I could barely hold a spoon, but he never once asked if I needed help. Never looked at my hands, red and cracked from hours of scrubbing.
One night, after I’d finished washing another pile of clothes, I collapsed onto the couch next to him. I winced as I rubbed my aching fingers.
Billy glanced at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
A tired woman on her couch | Source: Pexels
I stared at him. “What’s wrong with me?”
He shrugged. “You look tired.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”
He didn’t even flinch. Just turned back to the TV. That was the moment something snapped inside me.
An annoyed woman in her kitchen | Source: Pexels
Billy wasn’t going to understand—not unless he felt the inconvenience himself. If he wanted me to live like a 19th-century housewife, then fine. He could live like a caveman.
So I planned my revenge.
The next morning, I packed his lunch as usual. Except instead of the big, hearty meal he expected, I filled his lunchbox with stones. Right on top, I placed a folded note.
A lunchbox filled with rocks | Source: Midjourney
Then I kissed his cheek and sent him off to work.
And I waited.
At exactly 12:30 PM, Billy stormed through the front door, red-faced and furious.
“What the hell have you done?!” he shouted, slamming his lunchbox onto the counter.
I turned from the sink, wiping my hands on a towel. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
A laughing woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
He flipped open the lid, revealing the pile of rocks. He grabbed the note and read it out loud.
“Men used to get food for their families themselves. Go hunt your meal, make fire with stones, and fry it.”
His face twisted in rage. “Are you out of your damn mind, Shirley? I had to open this in front of my coworkers!”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, so public humiliation is bad when it happens to you?”
A shouting man wearing glasses | Source: Pexels
Billy clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to yell, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.
I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “Go on, Billy. Tell me how this is different.”
His jaw tightened. “Shirley, this is—this is just childish.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I see. So your suffering is real, but mine is just me being childish?”
An angry woman lecturing her husband | Source: Pexels
He threw his hands in the air. “You could have just talked to me!”
I stepped forward, fire burning in my chest. “Talked to you? I did, Billy. I told you I couldn’t go three weeks without a washing machine. I told you I was exhausted. And you shrugged and told me to do it by hand. Like I was some woman from the 1800s!”
A woman turning away from her husband | Source: Pexels
His nostrils flared, but I could see the tiny flicker of guilt creeping in. He knew I was right.
I pointed at his lunchbox. “You thought I’d just take it, huh? That I’d wash and scrub and break my back while you sat on that couch every night without a care in the world?”
Billy looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
A sad man clutching his head | Source: Pexels
I shook my head. “I’m not a servant, Billy. And I’m sure as hell not your mother.”
Silence. Then, finally, he muttered, “I get it.”
“Do you?” I asked.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I do.”
A tired man rubbing his temples | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a long moment, letting his words settle. Then I turned back to the sink. “Good,” I said, rinsing off my hands. “Because I meant it, Billy. If you ever put your mother’s vacation over my basic needs again, you’d better learn how to start a fire with those rocks.”
Billy sulked for the rest of the evening.
An angry man in a hoodie | Source: Pexels
He barely touched his dinner. He didn’t turn on the TV. He sat on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the wall like it had personally betrayed him. Every now and then, he sighed loudly, like I was supposed to feel bad for him.
I didn’t.
For once, he was the one uncomfortable. He was the one who had to sit with the weight of his own choices. And I was perfectly fine letting him stew in it.
A woman reading a book on a couch | Source: Pexels
The next morning, something strange happened.
Billy’s alarm went off earlier than usual. Instead of hitting snooze five times, he actually got up. He got dressed quickly and left without a word.
I didn’t ask where he was going. I just waited.
That evening, when he came home, I heard it before I saw it—the unmistakable sound of a large box being dragged through the doorway.
A large box in the doorway | Source: Midjourney
I turned around and there it was. A brand-new washing machine.
Billy didn’t say anything. He just set it up, plugging in hoses, checking the settings. No complaints. No excuses. Just quiet determination.
When he finished, he finally looked up. His face was sheepish, his voice low.
“I get it now.”
A sorry man covering his face | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh… should’ve listened to you sooner.”
“Yeah,” I said, crossing my arms. “You should have.”
He swallowed, nodded again, then grabbed his phone and walked away without argument or justification. Just acceptance. And honestly? That was enough.
A satisfied smiling woman | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Macaulay Culkin removed his parents from his foundation at age 15: his father disowned him years later
Even though Macaulay Culkin rose to fame as a child, his career took a turn for the worse when his parents divorced and started arguing about who would be in charge of Macaulay Culkin’s wealth and profession.
Macaulay Culkin let a lawyer handle the matter and took his parents’ names out of his foundation trust. His father declared years later that Macaulay Culkin was no longer his son.
On August 26, 1980, Macaulay Carson Culkin was born in New York. He is the son of Patricia Brentrup and former Broadway performer Christopher Cornelius “Kit” Culkin. But his parents have never tied the knot.
The third of seven children is Macaulay. Along with his sister Quinn, he has two brothers who are also actors: Kieran and Rory. At the tender age of four, Macaulay made his stage debut in the musical performance of “Bach Babies.”
As a young age, he started pursuing the performing arts. He trained at Balanchine’s American Ballet School and had several television commercial appearances.
In 1988, he made his screen debut in the drama “Rocket Gibraltar.” The next year, he made appearances in “See You in the Morning” and “Uncle Buck.”
His breakthrough performance was as Kevin McCallister in the comedy “Home Alone” in 1990. Due to the film’s widespread success, Macaulay overnight rose to prominence.
He received nominations for a Golden Globe, an American Comedy Award, and a Young Artist Award for his performance. He returned to the role in the global hit “Home Alone 2: Lost in New York” in 1992.
He starred in multiple popular movies, including “My Girl” (1991), “The Good Son” (1993), and a motion picture adaptation of “The Nutcracker” (1993).
He starred in “Getting Even with Dad,” “The Pagemaster,” and “Richie Rich” the following year. He wanted to lead a regular life after becoming weary of acting after the last movie.
His parents divorced in 1995, sparking a protracted custody dispute that lasted for two years. At this time, Macaulay—who was now the highest-paid child star—made the decision to hold off on accepting any additional jobs until after his parents’ custody battle was resolved.
After being together for more than 20 years, Macaulay’s parents, Kit and Brentrup, separated in 1995 when he was just 14 years old.
His managers were also the actor’s parents. They began bickering after their split over how to raise their kids and handle Macaulay’s rising profession.
Kit and Brentrup received a 15% commission on Macaulay’s profits while overseeing him. Macaulay’s profits were expected to be $50 million by 1990.
Because Kit was allegedly abusive, unfaithful, and had abandoned Macaulay and his siblings, Brentrup petitioned for temporary custody of Macaulay and his siblings in June 1995.
She was worried that Kit’s actions might turn off prospective workers who wished to resume working with their kids. But Kit wanted co-management and joint custody with Brentrup, while Brentrup asked for sole custody.
Kit was accused by the producers of blackmail, extortion, and harassment. He had such a terrible reputation that people referred to him as the “Stage Father from Hell.”
In “The Good Son,” Kit had threatened to cut Macaulay from the follow-up film “Home Alone” unless he was given a significant role. Producers and filmmakers reconsidered hiring Macaulay and his siblings after learning about the controversy involving his father.
Macaulay disclosed that he and his siblings declined to accompany their father throughout the custody dispute. He believed his father to be a pitiful individual.
Macaulay, watching his parents battle in court, acted impartially and decided to take Kit and Brentrup out of his trust fund. He said:
“I found an executor, someone who would handle my finances, and I legally removed my parents’ names from my trust fund.”
He feels that this decision pushed their custody battle to a much quicker conclusion, even though the press has misconstrued it. Take note that in the end, custody went to Brentrup.
Following the protracted struggle, Macaulay’s father—who passed away in January 2014 while preparing dinner—had nothing nice to say about him. He declared:
“I no longer consider him to be a son.”
Following their split, Kit made the decision to relocate to the west with his girlfriend Jeanette Krylowski. In addition, he accepted that he would never see his kids again.
Macaulay’s fatherhood began on April 5, 2021. Dakota Song Culkin is the son he and his fiancée Brenda Song welcomed into their family in Los Angeles.
Dakota, Macaulay’s sister, passed away in an automobile accident on December 9, 2008, at the age of 29. Their son bears her name. On the “Changeland” set in Thailand, Macaulay and Song first got together.
Macaulay announced that he and the former Disney Channel actress were prepared to start a family a year after they first started dating. In 1998, he wed actress Rachel Miner before he began dating Song. In 2002, following two years of separation, they got divorced.
We’ve seen more of Macaulay’s return to the spotlight in recent years. He declared on Twitter in October 2021 that he will not be part of the Disney+ revival of “Home Alone.”
Macaulay wore a colorful costume when she walked the Gucci Love Parade runway in November 2021 on Hollywood Boulevard.
He was dressed in vibrant floral bomber jacket over Hawaiian shirt and wide-leg camel beige slacks. Macaulay flashed his cream-colored Gucci double G leather belt, hands tucked into his pockets.
He accessorized his retro vacation ensemble with caramel-colored, 1970s-style sunglasses and clogs.
Although it’s common for fans to see their idols walk the catwalk, Macaulay surprised them by sharing the podium with Jodie Turner-Smith and Jared Leto.
Leave a Reply