I've Never Heard it Explained so Well

My sister sent me a copy of this in an e-mail. I laughed, and was so glad someone could put into words what this is like. I am so grateful to the many friends who have never even hinted at what the lady writing in says and feels. But sometimes it does feel like I have to justify my existence to the rest of the world, so I really wanted to post this. This was an article in the Washington Post. I didn't have a date on it, but it's legit.


Dear Carolyn: Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, not time for self, no time for me, etc. Me (no kids); What’d you do today? Her: Park, play group….
OK, I’ve talked to parents. I don’t get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners …. I do all those things, too. I guess what I’m asking is: What is a typical day and why don’t moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events); I manage to get it all done. I’m feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy, but if so, why won’t my friend tell me the truth? Is this a contest (“my life is so much harder than yours”)? What’s the deal? I’ve got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks have the same questions.
-Tacoma, Wash.

Dear Tacoma: Relax and enjoy. You’re funny. Or, you’re lying about having friends with kids.
Or, you’re taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven’t personally been in the same room with them.
I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed.
So, because it’s validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, cleaned, dressed; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired, or bored, any one of which produces checkout-line screaming.
It’s needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.
It’s constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.
It’s constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends. It’s resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone’s long-term expense.
It’s doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything – language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything.
It’s also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn’t judge you, complain about you or marvel how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand, or keep your snit to yourself.

Tell Me About It is written by Carolyn Hax of the Washington Post.


And I would add, two arms for THREE kids, and when I have those ten minutes (when is that?) I can hardly remember my name, let alone where my phone is or what were the things I meant to do today besides feed everyone?