I have fallen through the glass floor.
Last year I was working in a war zone, earning a great deal of money, flying in helicopters or riding in armored vehicles.
Now I push a stroller. Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Wipe bottoms and noses. Wash clothes and faces and perform all of the other unpaid tasks of caring for my two sons.
I have also entered a realm filled predominately with women. When I go to the library for story time, or to a "Music Together" session, or walk my son to kindergarten, I see mostly women with their children.
In addition, the vocabulary surrounding this type of work is decidedly feminine. I hear references about Mr. Mom and room moms at the school. At the beginning and end of the school year, there were organized social events for mothers. Even the New York Times blog about parenting is called the Motherlode.