I wonder what it is like to eat a meal with two hands. Not that I would need them but the luxury of being able to hold a glass and a fork if I so chose would be wonderful. I can't remember the last time I just sat. And ate. Anything. Without getting up and getting juice. Paper towels. More juice. No now they want water. With more ice. A different fork because someone really wanted the mickey one not the regular one. Hot food I imagine is nice. Luke warm is okay but.... hot... I miss hot food. And coffee. If I make hot coffee it is cold by the time I get to it. So I started making iced coffee. By the time I get to that the ice has all melted and its just room temperature coffee water.
I wonder what it is like to have the thought that I need something from the store and then just leave. Just get in the car and go. Not wait until someone can watch the kids. Not have to take them with me. Not wait until a show is over or for my husband to get off the phone. Just go. Just go to a store and not unload a stroller and a diaper bag and three kids. Not speed walk and reason with the kids about toys. Candy. Soda. What ever else they walk past that they can't live with out.
Of course I could just ask my husband about any one of those things and he could tell me. I know he has three kids too. WE have three kids together. So why does he get to enjoy hot meals, shower when he wants, leave the house with out permission. Because he is not the mom. In most relationships there is some unspoken understanding that mom will deal with the kids. No matter who is home. What day of the week it is. As long as mom is present it all falls on her.
I am a stay at home mom. Best job I have ever had. Also the most exhausting. There is no other job that requires you to be on 24 hours a day 7 days a week. No other job so demanding it doesn't even allow you to shower alone. When it comes to the house and the kids I am responsible for EVERYTHING. Breakfast. Lunch. And dinner. Grocery shopping for all three of those plus snacks. The dishes that each meal produces. The mess that snacks create. It is also my job to not just make sure everyone is fed... but fed something healthy. That tastes good. That is toddler and husband approved. Something that meets Aidan's gourmet standards. I am responsible for all of the laundry. Washing. Sorting. Folding. Putting away. Getting it neatly on small bodies. Keeping it looking decent through out most of the day. Having a back up in my bag or the car in case someone pees. Pukes. Spills. Falls. Tears. Poops through. Plain old destroys what they have on. I also have to be prepared for changes in weather. Umbrellas. Jackets. Sweatshirts. You name it I have it folded in my trunk... just in case. Which by the way makes it look like homeless people are living out of my car. When we go out for a family outing it would be easy to just get myself dressed and ready to go. But no. Aside from me I have the 3 boys. To bathe. Dress. Pack snacks and entertainment. Make sure Seark has the right cup. Rylan has enough diapers and wipes. Aidan has a bottle of water because god forbid we leave with out any or one of those the whole day could potentially be ruined by a screaming, crying, not cooperating, take me home right now, little boy. My husband. He's lucky he has only himself to worry about and no one will blame him if something is forgotten because even the kids know dad is not responsible for that kind of stuff.
I am the one who makes sure the house is clean. Not always in order but always clean. I clean from the time I wake up until I go to bed. Legos... the endless supply of Legos! I swear they come alive and multiply at night because no matter how many I vacuum up and throw away there is always another one that I am stepping on. And god do those things hurt! I vacuum more than a maid in a motel. Still it is never enough. 3 boys. 2 dogs. 1 husband. Plus construction in the house = a constant never ending mess. I clean the toy room and wipe down all the toys so they don't make me cringe when I see Rylan shove one in his mouth. I clean the bathroom. Pretty much every time I go in there. The kids manage to cover the sink and mirror in soap and water. The floor with pee. And the bath tub with Crayola tub crayons. I wipe down and Lysol. Every chance I get and it is still never enough. I feel like we need one of those bathroom attendants they have at the casinos in Atlantic City. Just some nice soft spoken woman that hands the kids paper towel and supervises them at the sink and toilet. Maybe if they had a silent scornful eye watching they would at the very least be a bit more mindful of where they spray that little hose.
I am also the planner. What time we will go to the park so that we get home in time for Rylan to nap. What time I will start and finish dinner so that we can go to basketball camp on time. What time Mickey Mouse comes and what time Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives ends so that neither miss their favorite show. I plan outings and bed times. Baths and bottles. I always know what is coming next and what we need to prepare for it. My brain is constantly in over drive anticipating.... what. comes. next!
I figure out our finances and know what is due to who and when. I know what the late fees are if anything is overlooked. I budget for grocery shopping and birthday parties. I may not earn any money but I know what to do with my husbands... wink wink.
On the rare occasion that I do go somewhere alone I answer text messages and phone calls from the minute that I leave to let their dad know where the sippy cups are. What box holds the binkies. At what point the baby needs to be changed. And even when I am not being paged I constantly check the phone to make sure I didn't miss a message or the sound of the phone ringing which would be pretty impossible but with me or not those kids are all I think about. If Rylan needs to be fed soon. If he does I will pass on that wine. I watch the clock so I am not late for his next feeding or to kiss the boys good night. And I can't stay out late anyway because Rylan never sleeps past 5 am and whether I want to or not I have to get out of bed. Ready to play. Chase. And entertain with a big smile on my face as if 5 am is my favorite time of the day. Because the kids don't care how much you did or didn't sleep. The kids don't care if you want to pee alone or if you are having a bad day.
I wish my husband understood how completely overwhelming this job feels sometimes. I wish there was a way that we could share these responsibilities instead of the kids are all mine and only mine and bringing home a pay check is his and the only thing that this partnership requires. No matter how many times I try to explain it to him I know that he doesn't get it and that he can't. The only way that he could understand is if he had to do my job. All Alone. Quite honestly that would never happen. Because as much as I day dream about the things he takes for granted and complain about what I wish he would help with... I really wouldn't want it any other way. Don't get me wrong the occasional reminder to him that I am not June Cleaver and this is not 1950 wouldn't hurt. A helping hand offered instead of asked for would be nice too. I am a mom. This is the job that I signed up for. The ever changing description can be daunting but it is always doable. Let's face it my husband is never going to walk through the door after his long demanding day at work and say "oh give me that baby... you sit and rest while I play with the kids and cook dinner" but even if only on a rare occasion sleeping in on a Saturday was a possibility I would be happy with that.
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