So. What exactly do Stay-At-Home-Moms do all day? I thought I would present a detailed chronicle, transcribed from an actual memo pad I carried with me throughout the day, so that those of you who feel that the only work done in a day happens in an office might feel thoroughly ashamed of yourselves:
6:45 a.m Alarm goes off. I was up until 1:30 am cleaning up the previous day’s mess so I don’t get up immediately. Mostly cause I know Ken will smack the snooze until I smack him.
7:02 a.m. I get up on snooze alarm #3. I thump Ken and he flops out of bed looking as confused as a flash flood victim. I am startled by crunching when my feet touch the floor. Crayons. A whole box. I know I didn’t leave them there.
7:04 a.m. I start getting Jacqui’s breakfast together. We need to leave the house at 9:45 to get to swimming lessons on time, then gymnastics class. We will probably be late, even though we have nearly three hours to get there and I got everything ready the night before. I know, doesn’t make sense - but stick with me…
7:05 a.m. Jacqui doesn’t want pancakes. She wants CIMMM-AAAAHHH- NIIINNNN TOAST. Now. I shift gears and stuff a slice in the toaster. Jacqui demands to help.
7:06 - 7:10 a.m. I empty Jacqui’s hands of two fistfuls of margarine. That’s right, you heard me. Fistfuls. Of margarine. Much howling ensues at the kitchen sink over the appropriate water temperature for hand-washing. More howling and a mini power-struggle over who gets to operate the cinnamon shaker. I win. Jacqui sits at the table sniffling and awaits her breakfast.
7:11 - 7:27 a.m. Jacqui won’t eat…
Jacqui: “Da cimanin was my job. My feeling is hurt. I’m too mad ‘ta eat.” She scowls at me with folded arms.
Me: “EAT. NOW.” More scowling. “Start eating now, or I take two stones out of your Good Job Jar.”
Jacqui: “Noooooooooo! I never gonna get ta go to da China Forest when you take my stones away!” (Jacqui gets to put stones in a jar for being good. Stones come out for being bad. Jar gets full, she gets to go to the Enchanted Forest. Lately, it’s been looking as if she might get to go on her 32nd birthday.)
Jacqui stuffs half a slice of cinnamon toast in her mouth and starts choking. Great. I hand her the water glass. She calms down, swallows, then starts sniffling and asks for a kleenex. Several more minutes wasted as I insist that white tissues are every bit as good as pink ones. She finally gives in, blows a raspberry into the tissue and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her pj’s.
7:28 a.m. Kyle is AWAKE…WAHHHHHHH!! Jacqui is a morning person. Kyle isn’t. Jacqui’s assorted screeching woke him up a couple minutes early and he is MAAAAAD!
7:29 a.m. I get Kyle up and changed and head back to the kitchen. I catch a glimpse of Jacqui scrambling back into her chair from the table top. I don’t even ask. I just say one word. “EAT.”
7:31 a.m. Kyle is in his high chair while I feed him his yogurt and oatmeal. I turn to remind Jacqui to keep eating and turn back to find Kyle has spit up in his bowl of oatmeal. The pediatrician told us at Kyle’s 12 month check up that the spit-ups should slow down in a couple of months. It’s been three months, but who’s counting?
7:32-7:40 a.m. Clean up Kyle, and his highchair. Fix more oatmeal.
7:50 a.m. Kyle is fed. Jacqui is making finger puppets out of her banana slices.
7:51 a.m. I tell Jacqui if she can finish eating before I am done with my shower, she can have two stones for her Good Job Jar. She nods eagerly and starts cramming banana slices in. I stick Kyle in his crib with some toys while take a three minute shower.
7:53 a.m. I forgot to lock the door…
Jacqui: “Moooooom…. All done wif my nanna’s! Seeeee?” An empty plate is shoved through the shower curtain.
Me: Huh. Done an hour earlier than yesterday. Whaddaya know? “Good Job! Go put the plate in the…”
The plate is dropped into the tub with me as I hear…
Jacqui: “Nooooooooo! No Kyle! Dat’s Miiinnnne!
Kyle: “NAH! NAH! NAH! Myyyy! Myyyyy!”
Jacqui: “Noooooo! Mine! Dis was mine wen I was a baby! Minnnne!”
Kyle: “My! My! MMMMYYYYYYYYYYY!”
7:54 a.m. I get out of the shower and slog into Kyle’s room to break up the ruckus. Jacqui has climbed into the crib with Kyle and they are wrestling over something. Ah. Apparently, Jacqui is still emotionally attached to a teether rattle Kyle is playing with in his crib. At least today she is. Or until the next time Kyle touches it or something like it. Jacqui gets sent to the couch for a time out. I go attempt to get dressed and dry my hair.
8:03 a.m. Dressed and dry hair. Go get Kyle out of crib and get Jacqui out of time out. Get Kyle a bottle and tell Jacqui to go get dressed while I fix my hair.
8:15 a.m. Hair is done. Make-up on. Teeth brushed. Jacqui is wearing a raincoat and fireman hat. I send her to her room and remind her she needs to put on her swimsuit, sandals and cover-up. I remind them they are folded on the first shelf of her closet. Just put them on!
8:17 a.m. Go to brush Kyle’s teeth. Kyle is at the open freezer door flinging out ice packs and frozen vegetables.
8:25 a.m. Kyle’s teeth are brushed and the freezer is re-stocked (amid much screeching from Kyle. Jacqui comes into the Kitchen wearing a ballerina costume and snow boots.
8:26 a.m. I brush a snowbound ballerina’s teeth and get her into swimming attire. Lots of screaming. Fun, fun, fun! We’re done and she jumps on the bed in between my protests as I look for her sandals. They were on the shelf last night. I put them there.
8:40 a.m. Still can’t find the sandals. I start the lovely task of combing her hair and putting them into ponytails. Lots more screaming. Mostly Jacqui. Some Kyle, some me - in the secret places in my mind.
8:55 a.m. Go find Kyle to get him dressed. He was here a minute ago… Back in the kitchen. Ken left his cereal on the counter. Kyle has dumped it out on the floor and is happily scrunching it with his toes, “Wheeee! Wheee! Wheeeeeeeeee!”
9:10 a.m. Kitchen floor is sorta clean. Kyle’s toes are sorta clean. Kyle’s still sorta not dressed.
9:15 a.m. Kyle is changed again and dressed, but one of his shoes are missing. I put them on the changing table with his neatly folded clothes last night. I go to the closet for a different pair of shoes. I find one half of four pairs of shoes.
9:25 a.m. Kyle is wearing aqua socks and Jacqui is wearing one sandal on the wrong foot. I go back into Jacqui’s room for another look around for the sandal. It is in the middle of the floor. Right smack in the middle. I know it wasn’t there an hour ago. You know those ’stress dolls’ that you can squeeze to supposedly calm yourself down? I make a mental note to myself that I really should pick one up sometime. In the absence of a ’stress doll’, I smack my head on the door jamb a couple of times for luck and head back down the hall.
9:30 a.m. Jacqui is barefoot and Kyle is wearing one aqua sock. ARRGGGGGHHHH! I count to ten and tell Jacqui to find her other sandal, RIGHT NOW. She scowls and points down the stairwell. It is on the landing, on top of a completely empty diaper bag that had been neatly packed the night before, waiting by the door and ready to go. I forgot that Jacqui just learned how to open the baby gate on the stairs. I tug off Kyle’s one remaining aqua sock and head down the stairs. I grab Jacqui’s missing sandal and set both of them by the door. One, Two. There. I begin repacking the diaper bag. I have one of Kyle’s aqua socks. I set it by the door. One. Where is the other one? I peer over the rail to the bottom landing. There it is. I set it by the door. Two. There. I am missing Jacqui’s swimming goggles and Gymnastics suit….
Kyle: “My, My, MMMMYYYYYY!”
Jacqui: “Nooooooooo! Dose are miiiinnnne!”
9:37 a.m. Kyle has the missing swimming goggles and our kitty is curled up on Jacqui’s gymnastics suit. I grab goggles (amidst shrieking from both children) gymnastics suit (while shaking off the kitty fuzz), Kyle, keys, purse, and three prepared bottles from the fridge with an ice pack from the freezer. I start herding the whole gaggle to the front door. What’s that smell? Kyle. Why does he always do that just as we are headed out the door. I cart him back upstairs for a quick change.
9:47 a.m. We could still make it on time - barely. Both kids are wearing footwear and everything is packed back in the diaper bag as we head down the walk. I stick Kyle in his car seat and Jacqui in hers and climb into the front seat. Can’t see out the window. Apparently a whole flock of maniacal robins decided to bomb our mini-van windshield to oblivion. I contemplate to myself that there must be a universal conspiracy to rob my life of any semblance of order or organization. I JUST HAS IT WASHED YESTERDAY! I climb back out and do my best to hose it off.
9:54 a.m. We pull out of our driveway. Late again. This should definitively answer the question as to why mothers of toddlers seem to perpetually run 10 minutes late and appear harried within an inch of their lives. Wake up earlier you say? What part of universal conspiracy don’t you understand? It wouldn’t matter what time I woke up! Someone, or something would fill up whatever ‘extra’ time I managed to set aside.
10:06 a.m. We made it to swim class. Jacqui is mad because she has a different teacher. Kyle is mad because he wants in the water. I’m bordering on an entirely different variety of mad. I endure 30 minutes of Jacqui’s pouting and Kyle’s shrieking with lots of glare’s from the geriatric water aerobics group at the other end of the pool.
10:30 a.m. I try to get everyone to the car for gymnastics class. Picture the scene 40 minutes ago at our front door only with everyone soaking wet.
10:42 a.m. We’re all in the car. Kyle is mad because he hates those plastic restroom changing tables. Something about them really freaks him out. I think they must vibrate and feel shaky or something judging by the way he always digs his little fingernails into my forearms and hangs on for dear life. He’s still giving me ‘what for’ in high decibel baby jabber after he is buckled into his seat. Jacqui is mad because she had to put on her gymnastics suit with her hair wet. Apparently her hair “won’t bounce good on the rampoleeeeene” when it’s wet. Tough.
11:08 a.m. Actually early for our 11:15 gymnastics class. It’s never happened before. I honestly don’t think it was worth it. It gave Jacqui ‘extra’ time to get into stuff that she shouldn’t and ended up taking a 7 minute chunk out of Kyle’s “good behavior time”. He screamed non-stop for the last 11 minutes of the class. We would have only had to have heard 5 minutes of it if we had been on time, none of it if we had been 5 minutes late. Live and learn.
12:27 p.m. Back home - time for lunch. Everyone is herded back up the front walk. Jacqui is tearing open the junk mail and dropping it along the path. I tell her to pick it up. She does and flings it down the stairs at the entryway. I tell her to take off her shoes, but she stomps up the stairs with them on, leaving a trail of bark dust footprints behind her.
12:31 p.m. I stand in the kitchen and look around. Everything was clean last night. Ken and Jacqui’s breakfast dishes are un-rinsed in the sink. Remnants of Chex cereal bits crunch under my feet. Alphabet magnets from the fridge are scattered across the floor. Toys from the living room toy basket are everywhere, miscellaneous breakfast shrapnel (along with Kyle’s missing shoe) litter the underside of the dining table while Ken’s newspaper pages litter the top. The bathroom is a mess. An Un-rinsed tub, a sink filled with Hello Kitty toothpaste globs, splatters on the mirror and a whole bunch of the stuff on the counter that doesn’t belong there that wasn’t there last night. In the hall there is a scattered trail leading to Jacqui’s room that includes my high heels, one snow boot, a winter scarf, a ballet slipper, two books, three hair bows and a torn page from a coloring book. I shake my head, pick up Kyle, change him, scrub up, and then go make lunch.
12:45 p.m. Jacqui is sort of eating and Kyle is almost done. I remind Jacqui (again) that her banana slices are not finger puppets!
12:50 p.m. Kyle is down for a nap after yet another diaper change. Jacqui is still eating. Sort of. I start cleaning up the upstairs mess with intermittent promptings for Jacqui to eat.
1:30 p.m. Everything is relatively picked up. Jacqui is still eating. At least there is still food on her plate that shouldn’t be. I head downstairs to start laundry and set the timer for Jacqui to finish eating or lose Good Job Stones. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
1:40 p.m. One load of laundry folded - another started. Timer goes off. Jacqui loses two stones, “Nooooo! Nooooo! NNNNoooooooooooooooooooooo!!! My tummy’s too full ta eat more!!!” Timer is set again.
1:50 p.m. Toys are put away downstairs. Timer goes off. Toys are EVERYWHERE upstairs. Jacqui is sitting on the kitchen floor watching ice cubes melt. Jacqui loses FOUR stones, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WHHAHHHHHHHHHHHH! MY TUMMY’S GONNA SPLODE! YOU’RE DA MEANEST MOMMY IN DA HOLE WIDE WARLD!”
1:54 p.m. Jacqui has finally finished lunch and expects a jubilant round of applause. I half-heartledly oblige and head downstairs for more laundry.
1:56 p.m. Jacqui runs down the stairs… “HEEEEEELP!! HELLLLLLLP!!! My ‘nastics outfit is stuck on my ponytails! HELLLLLPP!! Getitoffffffff!” The screams and screeches continue as I try to separate ponytails from a gymnastics outfit which has been ripped off for unknown reasons.
2:05 p.m. Back to folding clothes.
2:07 p.m. “Mommmm!! I need HeLLLP! I don’t wanna watch Daddy TV! Help me find Jacqui TV. HELLLP!” I insist that she go put some clothes on first.
2:14 p.m. She comes back downstairs wearing a mermaid costume and her swimming goggles. Whatever. I turn on ‘Pinky Dinky Do’ for her. Her choice, not mine. Anything for a few minutes of relative quiet.
2:15 p.m. I take a cold soda into the office for a few minutes of quiet.
2:42 p.m. Time’s up. ‘Pinky Dinky Do’ is over: “Mooooommm! My tummy’s all growly! I needa snack! You have to be kidding.
2:50 p.m. Snacks are settled on. We head back downstairs after picking up the upstairs toys again.
2:52 p.m. I try to get some filing done in the office. Avalanche warnings have been issued in the vicinity of our inbox. The situation is dire.
2:55 p.m. I hear a cat meow cut short. Out in the family room, Jacqui has made a nest from throw blankets that she is sitting on. Our kitty’s smooshed face is peering out at me from under Jacqui’s nether-region with desperation in her eyes. I attempt to free the kitty while Jacqui tries to explain that she’s the Mommy bird and Jingle’s the baby bird. I explain that Kitties don’t like to play those particular kind of birdie games while Jingle makes a run for the cat door. I forgot to unlock it. She smacks her kitty noggin, pauses looking dazed, then bolts up the stairs.
3:02 p.m. Kyle’s awake. Time for diaper change and then snack session #2. Jacqui comes in and decides to provide running commentary while I change Kyle:
Jacqui: “Peeeewweeeee Whhhheeewwweeee! Dat really stinks!”
Me: “No kidding.”
Jacqui: “Nope. I mean it. Super-yucky!”
Me: “Enough. Go Play. Somewhere else.”
Jacqui: “Subuddy otta do somefing.”
Me: “About what?”
Jacqui: “Helllllloh-oh. Kyle’s potty Mom.”
Me: “I am. I’m changing him.”
Jacqui: “Nooooooooo! I mean sumbuddy should make him stop dat. I will write Gramma an Granpa a letter. I will go get da paper!”
Me: “Oh please no.”
Jacqui: (Back with paper and pen sits down to write the letter as she dictates to herself out loud…) “Dear Gran-ma ‘an Gran-pa. Kyle pot-ties way too much. It is ver-ry stin-ky an yuck-key. Pleez tell him he must stop do-ing dat! Thank You! Love Jac-qui. All done. Ok. We must mail it now.”
Me: “No. No, we mustn’t.”
Jacqui: “Yes we must! When a letter is writed it must be livered! Dat’s da mailman’s oaf!”
Me: “What?? Where do you get this stuff? Letters about potty must never be delivered. That’s the Mommy’s Oath.”
Jacqui: “Dere’s no such fing as a Mommy’s oaf. I need a llama-lope.”
Me: “Fine. Set it on the counter. I’ll look for an envelope later.” With any luck she won’t remember about it.
3:30 p.m. Diaper change and snacks done. Downstairs for more laundry.
3:50 p.m. Finally done folding that load. Kyle kept “helping”. That and insisting on giving me big hugs every two minutes. It was too cute to stop him, the laundry took a backseat.
4:09 p.m. Trying to get the downstairs bathroom clean. Another “Mine! vs. Myyy!” fight breaks out. This time over a building block. I can’t get them to stop so I tell them we have to put the blocks away and play something else. The blocks get dumped in the toybox on top of a talking toy robot: “Hi! I’m Olie! Okey Dokey! Whoppin’ Whirlygigs! Hi! I’m Olie…” Make it stooooop! Finally found it and turned the switch off. Would have taken out the batteries except it looked like it would have involved power-tools.
4:22 p.m. Jacqui interrupts the bathroom cleaning session with yet another fashion statement. A green taffeta dress up gown, princess crown, black velvet shoes (a couple of sizes too big) and gloves that she is demanding to have assistance with.
4:30 Laughing in the family room. I peek out. Knew I should have taken that laundry upstairs. I sit down to re-fold it.
4:55 Back to bathroom clean-up. Jacqui comes in holding her nose and re-asserts the imperative nature of her letter to Grandma and Grandpa. I go to change Kyle.
5:10 Jacqui begs to read a book together. A request she knows I can never refuse. The world stops for Robert McCloskey’s “Blueberries for Sal” - as it should.
5:17 Most of the world stops. Kyle doesn’t. He gets his hand stuck in the cat door. Actually, it isn’t stuck. I just thought it was due to all his screaming. In reality, he just had a handful of kitty fur on the opposite side of the kitty door and refused to let go. I think we’ve probably seen the last of Jingle for the day.
5:32 Ken’s home - whew! He is bowled over by shouts of “Daddy!” from Jacqui and “Dee!” from Kyle. I don’t want to say anything. I want to quietly sneak away before I am missed.
5:47 p.m. Ken sits down to watch ‘Max and Ruby’ with Jacqui (her choice, not Ken’s). I go make dinner and the evening festivities are underway. Jacqui comes upstairs and announces, “Spaghetti, bwead, nannas, cheese, and water ice. Dat’s my dinner list. Got it? Don’t give me anyfing not on da list, K?” I scowl at her like a grumpy line cook and make a mental note to add some green beans to “da list”.
6:10 p.m. Dinner is ready. Taco salad for the grownups, spaghetti for the kiddos. I didn’t feel like arguing. Kyle is done with dinner at 6:30. Ken and I are done with dinner at 6:45. Jacqui is just getting started.
7:20 p.m. Jacqui is still fiddling around with the last of her spaghetti despite pleas, ploys and prodding. I take Kyle downstairs with a bedtime bottle and leave the remains of the dinner battle to Ken along with the remains of the dinner dishes. He steps in valiantly, bless him.
7:37 p.m. Jacqui bolts down the stairs and rouses a drowsy Kyle to announce that she gets “run around time!” A reward Ken gives her if she finishes all her dinner. They run up and down the hall like screeching lunatics for a few minutes. Jacqui loves it ! Imagine that - Jacqui finding chaos appealing. Whatever works.
7:40 p.m. I hear the beginnings of Jacqui’s bath. Kyle is still chugging on his bottle, but in no apparent hurry to fall asleep. He pats me on the head while gazing off into space and intermittently mutters: “Dey-Doh, Dey-Doh, ” his attempt at ‘Gentle, Gentle’.
8:15 p.m. I hear Jacqui’s bedtime story and last bedtime song. Only 15 minutes behind schedule. Pretty impressive, considering the day. Kyle looks like he is asleep, but when I try to move the bottle he screeches, “My! My! MmmmmYYYYY!”. That’s it. Bedtime. I’m done. I lug him upstairs and put him in bed. He happily snuggles up with his ‘Sing Me to Sleep Pooh’. He’ll be asleep before the 11 minute song is over. Jacqui… well, she’s another story. The night is young.
8:21 p.m. Ken finally disengages himself from the last flurry of pleas for “One more hug! One more drink of water!”
8:25 p.m. Ken heads for the sanctuary of the garage. I enjoy a few un-interrupted minutes on the computer to attempt to clear my head before heading upstairs to put the house back together for tomorrow.
8:47 p.m. I hear Jacqui over the monitor. She’s sneaking out of her room and into ours. She’s been attracted to the air-conditioning in our room. I decide to pretend I didn’t hear anything ’cause I really want this day to be over. We’ll haul her back to her own room when we go up to bed. Only ten short hours ’till this all starts again.
The moral to this story? Never, never NEVER ask a stay-at-home- mom what she does and then when she tells you, respond with anything remotely resembling the phrase: “Oh. So you don’t have to work… That’s nice.” She just might sock ya.
parenting children motherhood kids humor christian funny stay at home mom day in the life SAHM
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