The Dark Confessions of a Stay-at-Home Mom

Being a stay-at-home mom is hard. Seriously. I honestly don't know how I, or anyone else, survives it day after day after day. I would go into all the responsibilities that we face every day, but the internet is already saturated with emails about how much a mother would make if she was paid an honest wage for all the different careers she dabbles in on a day to day basis. And annoying as these emails get after awhile, they are the full truth. Just once, I'd like to meet one of those nasty people who assumes stay-at-home moms do nothing but sit on their large backsides and eat ice cream by the quart while watching soap operas, and I'd like to introduce them to my fist. (I note that "introducing my fist" is much more comical than threatening... but you get my point).

I bring all this up, only because I've been giving a lot of thought to my life lately. I'm going to expose my insecurities here for a minute and admit that I have been feeling drained, unappreciated, and exhausted in every way a person can be. It's the truth. Why is it so blasted hard to climb this barbed ladder toward perfection?

If one were to put a hidden camera in my house for a day, I'll tell you right now what you would see. Between all the meal making, diaper changing, attention giving, computer typing (I work from home, doing data entry), cleaning, laundry folding, and all the other responsibilities - you would see a frumpy woman in sweats and no makeup, pacing the house and running an inner monologue that goes something like this:

I'm exhausted. I think I'll lay Gracee down and take a nap. No, I can't, I still have 4 hours of work left to do. No, before I start working, I have to get the laundry started. But wait, in order to start the laundry, I have to fold all those clean clothes piled up on the bedroom floor. That will take forever. I wonder if Mathew can wear those same jeans he's been wearing for the past week one more time without anyone noticing how filthy they are. Ok, dishes! I have to do dishes. Oh my goodness! It's 10:30 and I still haven't gotten the kids any breakfast! No wonder they're all crying. Ok breakfast... dangit! I don't have anything to make. I need to go grocery shopping. Ahhhh, I can't go grocery shopping until Thursday when we get paid again. The kids will be fine with cereal again. Oh, but we don't have any clean bowls or spoons until I do dishes. And the table is covered with last night's dinner. I have to clean that off first. Ooo... maybe I'll eat the last brownie for breakfast. If I sneak it into the bathroom and lock the door, I won't have to share it with the kids. But would it be worth the Weight Watcher's points? Eh, screw it. I don't care about Weight Watchers today. Wait, dinner! What on earth am I going to make for dinner? Brandon will never forgive me if I tell him we need to do fast food again. Uh, I'll worry about it later. Something's bound to magically appear in the fridge and/or pantry by 5:00 tonight. Alright, seriously, I have to get some work done or I'll be up until midnight keying and I have to get up at 4:45 to go running with the girls. Argggh! If Nathaniel and Mathew fight one more time, I'm going to lose it completely! Umm... what's that smell? Are you kidding me? Gracee needs to be changed again? How can a body that small hold so much poop?! That's it diaper change, breakfast (we'll just pull out the paper bowls and eat at the counter), and then I'm taking a nap. I'm exhausted.

Seriously, I could run this monologue for pages and pages, but I'm sure I've lost the interest of more than half of you as it is. What I didn't include in the above paragraph, is how many times I berate myself for being so whiny when there are millions of people in this world who don't have enough food to worry about being overweight, or enough house or clothes to worry about keeping them clean, or enough money to worry about budgeting. Then I feel even worse because I've just added "being a despicable, ungrateful human being" to the list of my faults.

On my darkest days, I have this morbid fantasy that includes me, while driving alone, being involved in a horrific car crash that lands me in the hospital for a full month. During this full month, I can do nothing but lay in the hospital bed while my every want and need is cared for by trained professionals. I realize this confession may cause a few concerned emails and phone calls from my family and friends, imploring me to seek counseling and/or medication... but let me finish. This dark fantasy of mine also includes the fact that the man caused the accident is a filthy rich billionaire who'd had just a little too much to drink. In his guilt-ridden state of grief and despair, he offers to not only pay all my hospital bills, but to make certain my family and I never financially want for anything for the rest of our lives. Also, when I come out of surgery after the accident, the doctor approaches me and quietly explains that he's very sorry, but in order to save my life, they were forced to do a full tummy-tuck, some liposuction, and a breast lift. The best part of this fantasy, is that I leave the hospital one month later, completely recovered, rejuvenated, and ready to face life head on with my bank account bursting with money that I can spend on my new, size 4 wardrobe. Is this all too much to ask?

So since I've been rambling on about my poor pitiful life for far too long, I should probably get to the point where I reveal how all of this is worth it. How life, in the scheme of things, is truly splendid and blissful. I should share with you the big lesson I've learned from all this dwelling on my shortcomings. But you know what? I don't have a big lesson to share. I'm still learning and still trying to find my balance every day. (You'd think after nearly 10 years of this, I'd have it figured out by now). However, so I don't appear to be incredibly bitter and ungrateful, I will acknowledge that there are numerous days that I do feel blissfully happy. I feel proud of my healthy body, even with all it's imperfections. I marvel at my fortune in having such a patient husband and such sweet children. I smile contentedly at the small corner of my house that I was able to clean spotless... I know it's not all doom and gloom all the time. And I guess that's what matters. As it has been said, what fun is a roller coaster without all the ups and downs?

Now, I'd better get off this dang blog (which I've been neglecting for months) and get back to life. I need to work, and do laundry, and help Brandon clean the basement, and buy a gift for the birthday party Mathew is going to today, and buy groceries for that salad I'm supposed to bring to dinner tonight, and figure out what to do for Father's day, and....