A Day in the Life of a Stay-At-Home Mom

When my two sons were young I used to pretty much think of us as "conjoined triplets" because we were always together, and whenever we went anywhere or did anything it meant that I didn't have just my own body to keep healthy, clean, dressed, and otherwise cared for. I had three. I wasn't one person getting into the car or heading into the Post Office. I was three. Before long we became "conjoined quadruplets" when my daughter was born. This meant of all the usual things that any one person usually does for himself, but it also meant four people to be getting to doctors, dentists, eye doctors, school in some cases, etc.

Of course, as "conjoined quadruplets" there was, at times, part-time work for one of us to be doing. There was also an eight-room house with an acre of yard, a dog and a cat, and a swimming pool - all of which needed care, cleaning, or grooming. Laundry was a matter of clothes for all of us, curtains, rugs, bed clothes, towels, and tablecloths. When my daughter was an infant there was also - no exaggeration - four overstuffed trash bags of her clothes and mine because she was a projectile vomiter. There was, of course, food to buy and prepare and the dishes associated with that food (although I wasn't above Dixie cups and paper towels for snacks).

I had a car to be brought to mechanics at time, and there were times when we, "conjoined quadruplets" would get up early to bring my husband to work, and then head off to drop off my oldest son at school. There was bringing their grandmother out shopping twice a week. There were long trips to visit the other grandparents and aunt, and they involved air beds, asthma inhalers, toys for different developmental levels for each child (so nobody would be too loud at Grandma's), clothes, and whatever else to bring on these trips. Waiting for plumbers, septic tank guys, painters, lawn-mowing guys, and whoever else occasionally planned to come between 8 and 5 was part of my day. So was going to pick up my husband and waiting because someone stopped him in the hall.

There was bill-paying and cooking. There were trips to the park, the schools, and any number of activities such as dancing lessons, violin lessons, guitar lessons, skating lessons, and Little League. There were rugs to vacuum, floors to wash, and sometimes there were windows or walls to wash. There were two bathrooms to keep clean or make clean, several beds to make, drawers and closets to keep organized, and, of course, the occasional dog vomit to be picked up.

There was the looking out, or the listening for, when the kids were outside; and there were the various extra jobs like helping them set up something to play in the yard or fixing bike tires. There were toys to sort out and return to their proper boxes. There was Barbie doll and other doll hair to try to get back the way it used to be. There was dance recital hair that had to be "convertible" because it had to start out as an updo just right for a certain feather, be switched to a ponytail for a tap number, and be made right for a third hat worn in the finale.

There were holidays and birthdays to shop for, wrap for, decorate for, cook for, and invite people for. Once every quarter I would spend a few hours with one of my four girlfriends, all of whom also had children. There was the never seeing my sister much at all, but there was the occasional visit from my brother (who had no children).

Shopping was a matter of one child in the child seat, one in the main part of the carriage, and one riding standing on the front of the carriage. This meant, of course, that there was no room for groceries; but we managed.

There was the thinking about what to tell children about any number of things in life, dealing with school issues, and the worrying. There were Winters when one cold or flu after another came beginning in October and finally ending in May.

The first time I began to have little sleep was when I was five months along with my son, who was in a funny position. It was seven years before I finally got to sleep a full six hours because first it was the pregnancy, then it was his being born prematurely, then it was worrying about him until he was two, then I was expecting my daughter, and then it was her being up, etc. etc.

I did, however, make time that was just for me: Every night after the children were asleep, and after I had gotten whatever house work done that I had done earlier because of being out doing errands or spending time with the kids, I would make a pot of coffee to have during Nightline. I would sit and watch Nightline for the half hour before beginning to do some writing and research that I would later be able to use (once I could work full-time again).

There was also, though, time out together as family on Sundays, even if, I'll admit, there were times I would have rather just stayed home and done nothing.

For all I've tried to include here, it doesn't come anywhere near to describing those 21-hour days that I somehow managed to zombie my way through and love. I have to say, though, that I did not particularly appreciate it when a certain person, who worked some very long hours, and who somehow seemed to assume that the walls were clean because they just stayed that way magically, would comment, "What do you do all day?"