To The Person Judging My Stay-At-Home Mom Capabilities

Dear perfectly well-kept soul (ya… right),

Thank you for bringing to my attention the fact that my house is often less than magazine-ready. Geeze, I hadn’t noticed that the pile of laundry waiting to go into washer had been there a week. What you didn’t see were the 10 loads of laundry that had to go in before the sadly waiting pile of towels because of the timely importance of poo and food disasters, and the need for my husband to have clean work clothes, and myself and my daughter to have the clothes we needed for our trip.

Thank you for noticing that the toys, blankets, and sunscreen and shoes my daughter spent the afternoon enjoying in the fresh air with her friend, learning valuable lessons about sharing, space, physics and exercise, were left there when we went upstairs. Here were my choices: Carry child and the handful of items I could upstairs inside for her much-needed snack and a break from the sun, then leave her alone and unattended to go back downstairs and outside to gather up the many items, or leave her outside in the yard unattended while I first gathered and carried them up. Or, take seven trips, all with a heavy, hungry toddler wiggling in my arms to make my yard look picture perfect again.

I’m sorry, my child’s needs won out. You’ll have to deal with the eyesore, wait for that glorious moment when she goes to sleep at the end of the day, or here’s something… Quit critiquing, give me a hand and PICK IT UP YOUR FREAKING SELF! (By the way, I noticed you made no attempt to pick up what you left. I can see how kid toys, clothes and accessories could be an eyesore, and just how much ambiance your empty cans truly add to the space.)

The diaper bag will get set by the door. The wet clothes may fall along on the floor as I madly try to remove them from my never-still little one who is eagerly rushing to find her beloved toy. The dishes may have to get chucked next to the sink as our hour-long breakfast fiasco every morning tends to leave us covered in miscellaneous goos, cringing at the stink coming from the routine morning diaper-filling that is about to escape, and already late for the playgroup where my little love will explore, experience, and learn a barrage of things about her world, herself and others that she just wouldn’t get to if I put her in front of Bubble Guppies while I meticulously scrubbed and swept all morning.

I don’t need your criticism. I need your understanding. Your support. Your helping hands and positive attitude to embrace life as it is and do what we can.

[tweetthis]Instead of criticizing what I haven’t been able to do, why don’t you try helping a mama out? #helpmeout #momlife[/tweetthis]

What do I do all day? What do I do all day???!

Right now my day is as follows:

Wake up to pinching and kicking, and the most phenomenal smile.

Take little miss to the potty. Try to hold it together while I (unsuccessfully) try to keep her from unrolling all of the toilet paper, ripping it into confetti and shoving it down the toilet, just far enough that her hands get wet and need a good scrubbing. Wash hands.

Go to her room for the most frustrating task to date – putting a diaper on a wiggle-worm who will not under any circumstances stay still. It’s a long, painful process, but it must be done, and it gets done. If I can do it without getting angry and letting my emotions show to my wee one, raising my voice and becoming short, I consider this a job very well done.

Then comes our breakfast routine, which I mentioned above. It takes a very long time to prepare a meal while keeping a little one safely busy, and then I put a lot of effort into convincing my tiny, picky (non)eater to have even a little bit. There is always a very sticky, icky mess all over herself, her tray, her chair, the floor, and often myself as well. We attempt to clean it up as best we can (if there isn’t an impending diaper failure near at hand, which is most mornings).

Some mornings I get to shower, and others we’re already running too late, so I have to pull my greasy hair back and skip it. When I do get to shower, it is extremely enjoyable to be able to share my small showering space with my toddler bopping around at my ankles. Soap up – “Sit down” – rinse off partway – save toddler from nasty fall – “Sit down” – stave off clawing at legs to slop some conditioner on my unruly mane (it’s been a year since my last hair cut). I dry us both off, clean up the giant puddle of pee that is always held in until we get out of the shower so she can recreate the experience on the bathroom floor, and move on to dressing.

First I pick out my toddler’s clothes (which I might add are clean and neatly folded in her drawers), while she takes out every toy, shoe, diaper and blanket that is within reaching distance. I’ll dress her up (much like the frustrating task of diapering, but with more items), then, if I have any time, I’ll attempt to quickly put back the hundred and one items that she’s explored and take her to my room to dress.

[tweetthis]Housekeeping with kids rule: For every item put away, a toddler will take out 10. #momlife #momproblems[/tweetthis]

While I’m busy picking out clothes that will be comfortable, won’t flash my privates while we’re tumbling and running and squatting all day, and will work to be able to breastfeed my still-nursing youngster, and (maybe) still make me feel at least the slightest bit attractive, my toddler will be busy pulling out every sock, pair of underwear, legging and miscellaneous item from my drawers. Once I’m finally dressed (the whole ordeal may take half an hour with the stopping and starting and “Oh, hunny, that’s not a safe thing to play with” and “Hold on just a minute, baby”), I madly grab together the things we will need for our day (diapers, wipes, change pad, extra clothes, sunscreen hat, baby…) and try to cut up and put together enough healthy food to keep the little belly full and nourished while we’re out. I’ll swig back my cold and disgusting coffee and carry everything down to the truck, buckle her in, and take a moment to breathe before driving off.

I’ll usually take us to either a playground, early learning centre, or a friend’s house. We spend most of our days out of the house for a few reasons. First, she’s happier when we’re out and about. Second, if we are out of the house, less mess is being made inside of it, that I’ll just have to clean up when she’s sleeping. Third, all these experiences and interactions with our friends and community and invaluable as she’s learning so much on a daily basis. We don’t plan on having any more little ones, so I try my best to make sure she has peers that engage and challenge her, offering lots of opportunities to learn about being a respectful, social human being. (If you live in BC, I highly recommend checking out a StrongStart program for a bunch of reasons.)

During our playtime at these places, I’m not just sitting around sipping tea and eating jube-jubes (although, sometimes there are treats to attempt to enjoy). I am constantly keeping an eye on my little one, encouraging her, helping her, saving her, modeling conflict resolution and appropriate behaviours, and giving her language for the things she is seeing and doing. I am lifting and running, swinging and kissing, bending and climbing, rolling and laughing, and showing my daughter (and her peers) how to enjoy life.

I don’t always get to be the “fun guy”, making sure that my little (non)eater at least attempts to take a few bites of the food I carefully prepared and packed, most of which frustratingly ends up on the floor, in the garbage, or rubbed into our clothes. I am constantly chasing her around with a tissue to catch the boogers. I engage in a writhing, screaming battle to apply sunscreen, multiple times while we’re out in the sun, to keep her from burning or getting skin damage. I change multiple diapers, struggling to keep little-miss-hilarious from sticking her hands and feet in her poop (fun game – not), and try to calmly take the hitting and pinching at me for not letting her wallow in her own urine and feces all day, while trying to somehow teach her that that’s inappropriate, yet I still love and accept her.

When it’s time to go I will gather up all our stuff, explain to a sad toddler why we have to leave, and head home to give little miss a nap.

Naptime is a magical time. It’s kind of like a fun guessing game of what-can-I-accomplish-in-30-minutes-to-3-hours? I can count on one hand how many times I’ve just taken time to relax. More often than not I use this time to do the seemingly quick tasks that take forever with my “little helper” around, like sorting and carrying a load of laundry downstairs, folding laundry, washing dishes, unloading/loading the dishwasher, sweeping (and if it’s a really good day, mopping – however that’s a full nap-time job on it’s own), or simply taking up items that belong there and taking down items that don’t. I might throw some food in the slow-cooker, or clean a bathroom.

Being that I’m still trying to contribute financially by paying for my own bills (multiple student loans and cell phone, plus the extras that pop up), I try to split this time between household tasks and working on this blog. I don’t make a whole lot with it where it’s at, but I do make some, and every little bit helps. So far, I have only had to ask for a little help a couple of times (which is pretty good considering I haven’t had my full-time job for close to 2 years now). So I write, implement code, promote, engage, submit, and apply, and somehow seem to succeed with my intentions in a very small window of time.

When the babe wakes, I’ll snuggle and nurse (watching my poor mammaries get pulled and pinched, clawed and stretched out beyond ever being able to return to the glory of my pre-nursing days), and then try to offer another little meal. Again, the effort put into the meal often feels like it wasn’t worth it, with very little actually eaten. I try to keep calm, and remember that a) she won’t starve herself and b) that exploring her food is an important part of development. It’s not always easy, but I try.

Then I wipe and clean up. Again.

Then it’s back outside for more playtime. More lifting and chasing and worrying and thinking. I think it’s the constant being aware and thinking of how to respond to each, unique situation in the most appropriate, loving and teaching way that is the most draining. I could run and lift all day, but all this having to “be on” every moment is quite honestly exhausting. Satisfying and exhilarating when you see you’ve made a difference, but exhausting none the less.

Then comes dinner. Dinner wasn’t exactly an easy thing for me to figure out and make happen when I was child-less. Now it’s more important than ever, and is something that just has to happen, and somewhat healthily and toddler-friendly. Thankfully, hubby is usually home by this time, so if he keeps little miss engaged while I’m in the kitchen, we might end up with what will pass for dinner at a reasonable hour, early enough to not push Z’s bedtime back.

Again we “eat” (see above), and again there is a mess that must be cleaned.

I am again thankful for a partner that can help out, as he is usually in charge of bathtime and getting ready for bed. When he’s not around, or when we’re away, this becomes my responsibility. While I do enjoy bath time, again there is the diapering, pajama-donning and the incredibly frustrating dance that is trying to brush a toddler’s teeth who is trying their best to keep you from doing so. We’ve tried so many tricks and already visited the dentist because of our concerns, but it still remains an essential struggle every night.

The actual going to sleep can take up to an hour of my laying there with her, urging her to lay down, quit kicking and flopping, and please go to sleep. I sing and hum and cuddle and nurse. When she’s finally off to la la land, I carry out my acrobatic feat (looking forward to the toddler bed that is in our very near future!), and head back downstairs to join the realm of the adults. I then have to choose between doing all the things I was waiting for bedtime to be able to accomplish, or spending time relaxing with my husband. Netflix has been winning out a lot lately.

I would like to also point out that, during this whole, eventful day, there are a million little struggles that happen that haven’t been mentioned. If I had a dollar for every time that I looked over to my climber dancing on top of her high chair tray, scaling the baby gate, inserting objects into the playstation, transferring the cat’s food into her water bowl or all around the house, or emptying the kitchen drawers, I would be a very rich woman.

You would think sleep would be a welcome thing at the end of such a day, and it is. Or at least, our version of “sleep”. You see, our little one is still waking every 2-3 (and the occasional throw-a-party 4) hours. If we had not been cosleeping, I don’t think I could have functioned this long with such a crummy sleep pattern. I’m actually attempting to night-wean right now, which seems to be helping, so I look forward to that glorious day when I will actually have a full 8 hours of sleep. Or even 6. I’d be an entirely new person after 2 years of waking up during pregnancy and with the little one around.

[tweetthis]Yes, my house is messy. I’m not a stay-at-home housekeeper. I’m a stay-at-home mom. #momlife #priority[/tweetthis]

So. Please forgive my “laziness”. Please look past the fact that my house isn’t always in perfect condition when you are here. I did not decide to be a stay-at-home housekeeper. I am doing my best at being a stay-at-home mom. Yes, I would desperately love to be able to do it all and enjoy an organized, clean and uncluttered home. But for now, I’m focussing my effort on my top priority – my amazing, adorable, inspiring, intelligent and heart-warming child.

So again, if you feel the need to judge me for what I haven’t done as a stay-at-home mom, please consider what I have been able to do, and help a mother out.

 

Sincerely,

A Stay-At-Home Mom