A Day in the Life of Me

In a recent Washington Post article, a reader submits a letter, expressing she is perplexed about what stay-at-home moms do all day. She even insinuates that some parents might use their children as an excuse to relax and asks, “Why don't friends with kids have time?”

In response, here's my typical day as a stay-at-home mom:

8am: Mom hears the troops starting to stir. Mom cringes. (I know some of you have it worse and are awoken at an ungodly hour like 6am— for this I am grateful to my children— but I still find myself reminiscing about my 11am weekend wake-ups, pre-children.)

8:15am: Three-year-old son begs mom to get up. Mom, in turn, begs son to watch TV in her bedroom so she can sleep a few more minutes. Son refuses.

8:20am: Twenty-one-month-old daughter is sitting up in crib “reading” herself a book. Nothing like being self-sufficient. However, it's time to get up. Son smiles from ear to ear as mom throws the covers off of her. Mom makes her way to the kitchen and turns on the coffeemaker. She then gets milk out of the fridge for daughter.

8:25am: Son asks mom why she never sleeps when it is dark out, only when it is bright (since he never actually sees me fall asleep). Mom tells son she is a vampire and if she gets up too early she might be tempted to suck on his blood during the day. Son accepts this explanation, uttering an amazed “Wow” as he heads over to the couch.

8:30am: Mom walks into daughter's room. Delighted to see her, daughter gives mom a big hug. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Mom heads to couch to join son. Daughter drinks milk, son drinks water, Mom drinks lots of coffee.

9am: Breakfast.
1st request: Pancakes— son and daughter nibble a few bites.
2nd request: Bagels— son takes two bites, daughter one.
3rd request: Cereal bar— son eats. Daughter makes believe she doesn't see the food in front of her.
4th request: Cheerios, which daughter eats.
While son and daughter eat, Mom proceeds to bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She then enters the bedrooms to make beds and pick out her children's outfits for the day.

9:45am: Children find mom and decide that making the bed is silly. It's better to unmake bed and jump on it. Oh, the wonderful feeling of achievement.

10am: Mom chases son and daughter off the bed into the bathroom. Hands and face are washed, teeth brushed. Son goes to potty. Daughter gets her diaper changed. A wrestling match ensues between mom, daughter and diaper. Son has taken off pajamas runs around house in underwear. Mom chases son, holding pants and shirt. Caught, son gets dressed.

10:45am: Mom realizes she hasn't eaten breakfast and pops a piece of bread in the toaster. Mom throws in a DVD, summoning kids to the couch to watch. Mom gets into shower and manages to take a shower without having to decipher whether the screams she hears while washing shampoo out of her hair are “I am so not sharing this” screams or “I just banged my head on the table” screams. It is a good day for showering!

11:15am: Mom gets son's schoolbag ready. Shoes, jackets and hats are put on kids. Mom realizes she still hasn't eaten. She grabs toast and proceeds to car.

11:30am: Son gets dropped off at nursery school. Daughter and mom head to music class.

1pm: When the class ends, mom and daughter go to grocery store. Daughter wants the crackers with Dora on the box, the Big Bird cookies and the chocolate cereal. Mom puts everything that can rot teeth before her child's 2nd birthday back on the shelf, before proceeding to checkout.

1:45: Tantrum #1.
Daughter: “Dora crackers!!! Dora crackers!!!”
Mom: “Dora can't leave the store, baby. Dora lives at this store. We can't take her home.”
Daughter: “Big Bird cookies!!! Big Bird cookies!!!”
Mom: “I know, sweetheart, but Big Bird's got to get back to Sesame Street. We can watch him on TV later. He has got to bring the cookies to Cookie Monster. Would you like some goldfish crackers instead?”
Daughter: “NOOOOOOO!”
Mom: “Pretzels?”
Daughter: “NOOOOOOO!”
Mom: “Grapes?”
Daughter: “Yeah.”
Mom: Sighs. Disaster averted.

2:20pm: Son is picked up from school, smiling and happy to see mom and sister. Son discovers he is headed home and decides that he would rather go to park. It is February and 31 degrees. Tantrum #2, this time with son screaming, follows.

2:45pm: Mom, son and daughter are home. Son is still crying. Mom makes kids lunch, throwing together a salad for herself. Mom gets dirty clothes out of hamper to do the first load of laundry for the day. While the children eat lunch, mom has her salad while standing at the counter.

3:30pm: Son and daughter sit on mom's lap to read a stack of books son has picked out.

4pm: Phone rings. Kids beg mom not to pick it up. Mom picks it up. Tantrum #3 and #4. Mom calms kids down by taking out a game for them to play with while asking her friend on the phone to wait. Mom chats with friend. Son meanwhile pulls daughter's hair because daughter throws a game piece on the floor. Mom hangs up on any ounce of adult conversation until husband comes home. Son gets time out.

4:15pm: Mom asks kids if they want to dance. Son picks out CD. Mom puts music on loud. Kids want to be twirled. Mom twirls. Kids want to be dipped. Mom dips. Mom can't dance anymore. Kids whine.

4:30pm: Mom gets puzzle out to occupy the kids while she prepares dinner.

4:45pm: Kids want to play superhero. Mom takes a break from cooking to make superhero belt and capes out of towels. Mom cuts out an “S” for Superman (son) and tapes it to his shirt. Mom creates a “W” for Wonder Woman (daughter), taping it to daughter's shirt. Son decides his special power is to be invincible and daughter's is to see the future. Daughter too young to realize her power.

5pm: Mom gets back to cooking while son whirls around her to reassure himself his powers are working. Daughter keeps staring at the “W' on her chest and saying “Dabawho” every time Mom looks her way.

5:15pm: Daughter gets tired of figuring out why she has a letter on her chest and decides to bang on the big screen TV. Mom reminds daughter that if she breaks TV, dad will send her to live in Japan where TVs are cheaper.

5:45pm: Husband/dad arrives home. Kisses, hugs, hoorays. Table is set. Family eats.

6:15pm: Dad takes kids to bathe while mom cleans up dishes. Kids refuse to get out of bath after washing. Tantrum #5 and #6.

6:30pm: Family cleanup of toys. Kids pick up two things and pretend not to see the rest. Adults finish task. Mom folds clothes. Dad vacuums.

6:45pm: Daughter goes into crib. (I know it might seem early, but did you notice nap anywhere. No. And no nap, early to bed!)

7pm: Mom puts second load of laundry in washing machine.

7:15pm: Mom decides to call friend back. Realizing friend is unavailable, mom leaves message. No doubt that call will be returned while mom is dealing with a meltdown or changing a diaper.

7:30pm: Dad and son watch a show together while mom checks and returns e-mails.

8pm: Son's bedtime. Mom reads son a book, then kisses him, tucks him in and says good night.

8:10pm: Son: “Can I have another kiss, Mom?
Mom goes in for kiss.

8:12pm: Son: “Dad, can you tuck me in?”
Dad goes into room and tucks in.

8:15pm: Son: “Mom, do you love me?'
Mom answers yes.

8:17pm: Son: “I have to go potty!”
Dad takes son potty.

8:20pm: Son: “Dad, do you love me?”
Dad answers yes.

8:25pm: Son: “Can I have a hug?”
Mom goes in for a hug.
SILENCE.

9pm: Mom and dad meet on couch.
Mom: Hi, husband.
Dad: Hi, wife.

9:45pm: Mom closes her eyes for a second during a commercial break. The vampire drifts off to sleep on the couch.

1am: Dad wakes Mom and convinces her to come to bed.

I've worked as an editor for 11 years. I've been at work long hours, toiled through some stressful deadlines, ate dinner at 10pm, exercised at a gym for two hours daily. Yet, I have never been more exhausted than I am being a mom of two children. Life as a stay-at-home mom is different; and unless you do it on a daily basis, it will always be difficult to understand. On any given day, I am a chef, a teacher, a ballet dancer, an artist, a housekeeper— and always a negotiator.

To the woman who wrote to the Washington Post wondering why her friend who is a mom has no time, I say, like your friend I also feel as if I have no time. I wipe a lot of tears and a lot of tooshies. I cuddle, tickle and teach. While these might be unimportant tasks to some people, to me they mean everything.