[Serialized Novel] Rebooting "Me"! ~Mom's Re-learning Community~ 02: The Zero-Hourly-Wage Expert.

"Oh, I don't need dinner tonight. Just have something simple."

In the busy morning entryway, my husband Shingo said this without taking his eyes off his smartphone while tying his shoelaces.

"Got it. A drinking party?"

"Yeah, a project wrap-up party. Rin, you should take a break once in a while, too. You're home all day, why not take a nap or something?"

The door slammed shut.
"You're home all day."
Those words echoed in my head over and over.

"…A break, huh."

I sighed and looked back at the living room.
There was a pile of toys that three-year-old Hina had overturned. The dining table was sticky with spilled food. On the sofa, the pajamas Shingo had discarded were rolled up.

Cleaning this up, running the washing machine, making lunch, taking her to the park, giving her a bath…

"Mommy! Watch Anpan!"

"Yes, yes, I'll turn on the TV now, so wait a second."

While responding to Hina's demands, I suddenly thought about my own "hourly wage."

From the time I wake up at 6:00 AM until Hina falls asleep at 10:00 PM, my working hours are roughly sixteen hours. My break time is only the one "lucky" hour when Hina takes a nap.
Cleaning, laundry, cooking, childcare, schedule management.
Even though I handle all these various tasks, my salary is "0 yen."

Shingo probably doesn't mean any harm. In his mind, he is a "working person" because he earns money outside, and I am a "resting person" because I am at home.

He would never say anything as emotionally abusive as "I'm feeding you with my earnings," but the unconscious sign that "housework and childcare are things that should be done for free" shows through in every aspect of his attitude.

No one praises me. There is no salary. There is no evaluation sheet.
My twenty-four hours are just consumed by the words, "It's only natural because you're a mom."

I am like a "zero-hourly-wage expert" working at a black company called this house.

While wiping the sticky table, the memory of last night came back to me.
The heat of that moment in the kitchen late at night when I opened my student-era "Umeko Tsuda Notebook" and decided to "reboot myself."

But when I returned to reality bathed in the morning light, I suddenly became afraid.
What could someone like me possibly do?

In the first place, do the moms around me even think about "re-learning"? Aren't there more people like Erika who think, "I'm happy enough as I am"?

"…Maybe I should just give up."

The words of weakness spilled from my lips.
At that moment, I caught sight of the old leather-bound notebook left on the corner of the table.
It was the Umeko Tsuda research notebook I had clung to and opened last night.

As I flipped through the pages as if drawn to them, the marker lines drawn here and there seemed to be speaking to me.
Among them were these words:

"Take pride in the value you have created yourself"

The Meiji era, when Umeko Tsuda returned from America.
For Japanese women, there wasn't even the option to "be independent" in the first place. It was an era where it was considered a virtue for women to marry, protect the home, and serve their husbands. Their labor was given neither value nor name.
Umeko stood head-on against such a society.

Education for women, too. The power to think with one's own head and stand on one's own feet.
The value to live as "me," not as an "accessory to someone else."

"…Value, huh."

I looked around the living room once more.
The messy room, the neatly folded laundry, Hina's smile. The things I am creating for "0 yen an hour" are by no means worthless.
It's just that society, and I myself, haven't put a price on that value.
If so, I have no choice but to decide my own value myself.

1:00 PM.
Confirming that Hina had fallen into a deep nap, I opened my laptop on the dining table.
What I displayed on the screen was a community bulletin board often used by residents of Suginomori City, Tokyo.

Amidst posts like "Giving away unused items" and "Tell me a recommended pediatrician," I clicked the "New Post" button.
My fingers resting on the keyboard were trembling slightly.
My heart was pounding.
What if no one replies?
What if I get laughed at, like, "Some self-important mom is saying something again"?
I felt as if Umeko in the notebook gave my hesitating back a gentle pat.
"Take pride," she said.
I took a deep breath and began to type on the keyboard.

[Title] Why not take a break from being "So-and-so's mom"? Recruiting members for an adult re-learning community.

[Body]
Nice to meet you. My name is Kiritani, and I am raising a three-year-old daughter.
Thank you for your hard work every day with housework and childcare.
This is sudden, but don't you feel like you have fewer opportunities to be called by "your own name"?
Children are precious. I have no regrets about becoming a mother.
But, in a sudden moment, don't you ever feel anxious, thinking, "What am I living for?" or "Am I being left behind by society?"
I do.
Every day, working for 0 yen an hour as if it's natural, there are times when I feel like I'm suffocating from the days where no one praises me.
That's why I wanted to create a small place.
A place to put the role of "mom" aside for just a little bit and "re-learn" for myself, as a single human being.
The goal isn't to get a difficult certification.
Why not share time where we just "use our heads for our own sake," like reading English news or discussing history?
The name is "Project U."
U is for Umeko (Tsuda) and U is for You.
First, once a week, for just one hour at a local community center or cafe.
If there is anyone who feels the same way as I do, please send me a message.
Let's take back the subject of our own lives together.
—Rin Kiritani

When I finished typing, my hands were sweaty.
I read it over and over.
Is it too heavy after all? Will people be put off?
But this was my honest, unvarnished truth.

"Alright...!"

I closed my eyes and hit the "Send" button.
The screen changed, and the words "Post complete" were displayed.
At that moment, something hot that I had never felt before rushed through my body.
It was an exhilaration like prying open a heavy door that had never opened, with my own strength.

"…I did it."

My mouth curled into a smile before I knew it.
No one has gathered yet. The location isn't decided either.
Even so, I moved.
I, who was a "zero-hourly-wage expert," planted a flag for the world, for myself, and in my own name.
Listening to the breathing of sleeping Hina, for the first time in a long while, I remembered the feeling of being excited.
I hope it reaches you.
To the nameless "you" somewhere who is holding onto the same invisible suffocation as I am.

(Continued in Episode 3: The first step is at McDonald's.)