Being a stay at home mom is a thankless job. You change diapers, feed picky-pallated little mouths, wipe greasy hand prints off of everything from your clothing to the inside of the toilet, break your back running behind Lilliputians organizing their messes, fashion a tasteful and nutritious dinner while dancing around crumbs and toys, scrub pots and pans with dry hands and peeling cuticles, wipe snot out of thin hair while trying to keep the same snotty-nosed child out of the trash can, and somehow manage to maintain a home that won’t be condemned due to its toxicity. You get the point, right?
Nobody says thank you for these things. Your thanks come in the form of wet-lipped kisses. Or your daughter learning to say “Mommy” instead of “Mama” (heart melt much?). Or the pride your heart feels when your son makes the All-A Honor Roll.
You juggle schedules and doctor’s visits and grocery shopping in the 105* heat with 267% humidity. Your hair frizzes. You shower once (maybe twice) a week. And your sacrifices don’t get noticed except when someone kindly tells you, you have mascara smeared under your eyes or that your muffin top runneth over.
I realized tonight while changing the 4th poopy diaper of the day that when I re-enter the workforce someday, I will have taken with me a very valuable lesson from motherhood:
Don’t expect kudos
Very rarely do bosses tell you that you’re doing a great job. Generally they want to tell you what you could do to improve. That report that you worked on for hours upon hours and somehow got done (perfectly) before its deadline? No thanks there! But talk on the cell phone during work? You’ll hear about that! Kinda like how when you concoct an exact reproduction of your husband’s favorite Macaroni Grill recipe and he says nothing but “There sure are a lot of dirty dishes tonight”. Yeah. Then burn something the next night and hear ALL about that.
So I’m confident when I say that I’m going to eventually be a dream employee. Not only can I make a 4 course meal while tip-toeing on a wooden block and wearing a baby on my head, I can file your mindless papers away while doing battements on a desk chair and juggling Swinglines. OH, and I don’t expect you to notice.
Have you seen my stapler?