*warning: A Day in the Life of a Stay at Home Mom (WTH am I Doing)? contains profanity.
What the Hell am I Doing?!
I have three kids, and I always knew that I wanted to quit my job and be with them as a stay at home parent. I love that I am there for every milestone, and that they know that I’ll always be the one to pick them up from school, make their lunches, clean the skid marks out of their underwear, and so on and so forth. There are things that I hate about being a stay at home mom too, don’t get me wrong. The thing that I probably hate the most is talking to my single friends. Well, let’s be honest: If any of my ‘old’ friends are still single, they’ve probably weeded themselves out of my life because seriously, how can someone without a husband and kids relate to my yoga-pants-wearing-haven’t-showered-in-four-days life?
So, why do I hate talking to my single friends? I can’t stand hearing them complain about how tired they are, or how busy they are. I just feel like telling them, “listen, bitch. Quit whining, because at the end of the day you sleep soundly, not worrying about a kid waking you up because of wetting the bed or hearing a baby crying. You can fly to Vegas or Paris or New York whenever you want! Have you ever gone grocery shopping with a toddler? No? So shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
If I have to hear about how her dog is just like having a baby, I think I might scream. Not to sound smug, but I have two dogs. They are elderly. Don’t get me started on what it’s like to have to change my baby’s diapers, and then clean up the dog pee AND poo from in the house because the female dog is so old she has incontinence. I will win, and do you want to know why? When said baby was crying in the middle of the night, for the THIRD time, and I wobbled, half asleep with only one eye open to his room, guess what I stepped in? Oh yeah. Game over. You didn’t even make it to the final round, Friend that gets to sleep through the night (unless it’s a night of passion with that cute guy from your office).
Recently, while on the phone with one of my closest single friends (okay, ONLY single girlfriend), she said to me, “You have such a great life!” Little did she know what was happening on my end of things! My son had just clogged my toilet by trying to flush AN ENTIRE ROLL OF TOILET PAPER. Not unrolled, either. He just tossed it into the can and flushed. Interesting fact about toilet paper: if it sits in toilet water and piss for long enough, some of the roll will successfully get sucked into that hole when the kid flushes about six or seven times. Just not the whole thing, so it makes it difficult to wrap a plastic grocery bag around your hand to try to fish it out. Anyways, every mom can agree that it’s unacceptable to have mom Tourette’s when talking with another woman without kids. I couldn’t quickly shout, “gotta go, I have a toilet emergency! Fuckin shit!” so I stayed on the call. I had the phone on my shoulder, plunger in hand, and the baby in the other. One kid on each leg asking what I was doing, a toy banging on my right ankle, and one of the dogs scratching at the bathroom door. I think the worst part of this whole scenario was that there was still some poop in the toilet and I got some splash water on me. At least it was on my sweats. Cause y’now, that’s all I wear these days. Oh, and to all the bitches without kids that say they’ll NEVER be the kind of mom that wears sweats all the time, I say this: Wait till you have three.
Now that I’ve had some time to reflect on the toilet incident, I can honestly tell you that my friend was right. I do have a great life. I would not trade my tiredness, my dark eye circles, or my yoga pants (with the bleach stain and almost rubbed out from where my thighs touch) for anything. I get to heal pain with a kiss, I’m the best cook in the world, and I also happen to be very smart in math because I know what 8 x 5 is and what hello kitty + hello kitty equals. I’m also, according to my older two, the best mom they’ve ever had. Who could ask for anything more?
Have you ever had a “What Am I Doing?!” moment that turned into an awesome parenting memory? What was it?