And I’m right here. All. The. Time.
Now, before I continue, let me say this. I’m in no way trying to say that working moms have it better. I’m not saying they have it worse, either. Both working moms and stay-at-home moms have full-time jobs with their different problems, achievements, and awesomeness. Please don’t take this in a “I’m saying stay-at-home moms are better, have it worse, or anything like that.” Moms are moms and we all face different problems than others as well as similar ones. We
are all on the same team.
I was a working mom for about two and a half weeks during this past Christmas
season. I hated it. I felt guilty for being at work and not with my family. I
hated it even more when I had to work late and miss saying good-night to Chase
for the first time. I will openly admit I cried at work when it was “bedtime”
and had to call Kyle so I could tell Chase good-night. It was a horrible
feeling, and as long as we can muster it, I’m going to continue being a
stay-at-home mom. I wouldn’t change that.
What I would change though is the feeling of being chained. I haven’t left my
house for more than maybe an hour and a half since Friday. And it was so I could
take my comforters to the laundro-mat to have them washed and to run to Wal-Mart
for some things we needed. I haven’t gone out with a friend since before I had
Sky. If I remember correctly, it was November. I go out with Kyle almost every
other week, which I love and need. But I also need to hang out with someone I’m
not related to every once in a while.
Most of my friends either live out of state or are working/going to school
full time and rarely have time. And it’s really hard to make new friends. Taking
both kids anywhere by myself gives me so much anxiety that it renders me almost
to the fetal position. Even going to the park with both of the kids terrifies me
beyond reason (which is directly related to my anxiety, which I’m still waiting
to have treated). It’s nonsense. I know it is. But alas, I sit at home with my
two kids, wishing I could muster up the courage to go somewhere other than my
I know that because of my depression and anxiety, it’s my fault, but not
really my fault, that I’m having this problem. I don’t like making plans,
because they usually go up in smoke either due to outside forces or because I
can’t will myself out of bed or to even put pants on. I don’t want to disappoint
anyone, so it’s slightly easier for me to just stay miserable.
But I’m so stinkin’ miserable. I hate it. I hate never leaving the house. I
hate seeing the same people every single day. (Don’t mistake that as hating the
people. I don’t at all) I hate doing the same thing every single day. I hate
feeling trapped and chained. I’m trapped not just from being a stay-at-home mom
with two kids under two, but also trapped in my own mind. It’s a never ending,
sick cycle that seems impossible to break. I don’t know how people do it. With
or without depression and anxiety. How do you make yourself happy with being
chained to your house? How do you get a change of scenery, not including the
trips to Wal-Mart and Target for groceries and the like? How do you not resent
your kids some days for keeping you locked in the house, or on a good day, the
backyard? I’ve been really struggling with this concept. Even despite the fact
that I’m trying to do more activities with Chase at home. Scavenger hunts,
themed baths, arts and crafts, playing outside more. But none of it is working
for me. The only thing that brings me any satisfaction from being stuck at home
all day, every day is cleaning. But that runs us into another problem.
I also don’t feel appreciated by the rest of the family (not including Kyle).
I spent over 5 hours cleaning the dining room, kitchen, and bathroom one day for
Spring Cleaning. I mean, I was COVERED in dirt and chemicals and dust and yuck.
It felt so good. But when my in-laws got home, I barely got a thank you. I
didn’t get a thank you. I got “you shouldn’t have.” Well, I did. You’re
I’ve spent the last month cleaning up poop from the six dogs that live in the
house (only two which are mine and Kyle’s) every other day so my father-in-law
doesn’t have to. I also do it because I don’t need Chase face planting in poop,
but still. Have yet to hear a thank you.
I baked cookies yesterday afternoon. Two dozen chocolate chip. I had two and
Kyle took three to work. When I got up this morning, there were three left. No
thank you. No cookies. I made cupcakes last week. I had one. Oh. And no thank
Today I cleaned the oven, wiped down one side of the upstairs hallway (and I
reside in the basement), and cleaned and re-organized the laundry room. No thank
you. No acknowledgement. No nothing. Just a dirty look from my mother-in-law and
my father-in-law complaining that he can’t find anything in the laundry room
(though when I asked what he was looking for in the first place, he couldn’t
It hurts. It hurts so bad to be busting my ass trying to pitch in around the
house when not everyone else is doing the same (or even contributing a small
portion) and then being ignored for my efforts. I take that back. I wasn’t
ignored per-say. I get dirty looks and “you shouldn’t have” and things stolen
from me (it might have been only birdseed, but still. It’s the point of the
matter.) That’s right. I had two-thirds of a HUGE bag of birdseed left over from
the pinecone birdfeeders I did with Chase. Kyle’s sister took that bag to her
boyfriends house without asking, without bringing it back, without replacing it.
Um. That’s stealing. End of story. When confronted by her dad about it, she
bought a small bag which barely covered HALF of what was actually taken. That’s
what I get for all I do. Awesome.
I want to bang my head against something. It’s getting harder and harder to
keep my mouth shut and to keep the filter in my brain in place. I’m going to
snap one day, I just know. I’m going to lose my cool one day after an extremely
bad depression and/or anxiety day, they will look at me wrong, and it will be
ON. No bars, no holds, bloodshed. I’ll have to clean that damn kitchen all over
It’s a horrible feeling though. Feeling chained, trapped, ignored, and
unappreciated all at the same time. It’s just no fun whatsoever. I want to just
give up and quit trying, but my kids live here. I don’t need them crawling
around in dust bunnies, eating dirt of the windowsills, and I can’t stand
knowing that there’s that much dirt anymore. Yay for an OCD complexion starting
up. This should be fun. Woo-Hoo. But I can’t keep dealing with all of this
negativity either. I don’t need recognition all the time, every time. Just every
once in a while when I do something big or go out of my way to help out, I would
at least like a thank you. Did I tell you I didn’t even get a “happy mother’s
day” from ANY of my in-laws. Not one of them said it. They barely even talked to
me. And then they wonder why I’m such a hermit crab when they are home.
It’s because I don’t want to lose my cool. I don’t want to run the risk of
them not noticing all the effort I put into something and have my feelings hurt.
I don’t want to verbally destroy my family. But seriously. If I don’t get out
more (beyond running errands and doing other “mom” things) and start getting a
“thank you” even slightly more often, there will be blood all over the house
because of the tongue-lashing I’ll lay out on them. Ugh. I hate feeling this
way. No matter what I do I’m trapped. I’m chained to the house with no where to
run or hide.