The Stay At Home Mom

On a good day, I might clean the apartment before you get home.
Give both the girls a bath- but you know it's the first one I've given them in days, maybe even a week.
We both know I only did it because the toddler is covered in milk and the newborn is starting to smell from all three of our combined body sweat.
I might have made dinner but you can bet your ass I didn't clean up the mess in the kitchen.
I'll wait a few days, decide it's too much for me to handle and then I'll ask you to clean it for me.
It will then take another day or two to actually get it done because we have so many dirty dishes we've begun to use the larger than our mouth spoons and tupperware as bowls for the mass amounts of cereal we consume.
I might have taught the dog to "come," but you will mostly likely step in pee spots when you get home from work.

I say these things because as a stay at home mom, you might wonder why I'm in the same recliner I was in when you left.
You might wonder why I ask you to clean or to hold the baby or rock her to sleep.

It's because saying the word "Water," fifteen times to a toddler who pronounces it "Mahnee," isn't difficult, but because it wears on me.
It's because I'm the one holding an infant for 21 hours a day-because she refuses to be put down for more than a few hours between 1:00 AM and 4:00 AM.
Who has to rock both the infant and toddler simultaneously.
Who has to try to kick the highchair away from the surprisingly acrobatic Pomeranian who insists on eating the toddler's food before she can finish.
Who has to keep finding higher shelves and hooks to put pens and purses and pretty things so they don't end up on the wall, strewn through the hallway or broken.
None of this is hard, but it is exhausting.

I hate when you get home and you can't see the effort I've put in to raising our girls.
I feel like a disappointment when I have to ask you for a break after you've worked an eight hour shift in the customer service industry.
I want you to have time to relax but I also haven't peed in a few hours and my bladder's about to burst.
I take advantage of the respite and instead of getting some alone time-which seems like a self indulgence I can't afford- I try to bring our apartment into some semblance of order to prove to you that I don't sit around and do nothing all day and that you can be proud of me.
And I do it all in spite of the knowledge that within thirty minutes of the toddler waking- all that work will be for naught.
I do it because even though kids are exhausting, I love them and I'm grateful daily I get to see them as much as I do.  And I'm grateful you make it happen.
But please don't forget me in the trenches, because down here, we are covered in drool and playdoh and just maybe we need a potty break to check our facebook in peace.

XXOO
-C