My job for the last couple of years has been “stay at home mom”. Which is a cute little nickname for “I’ve made 3 children and the oldest one outranks me plz help I’m drowning.”

The most aggravating part of being a SAHM is working all.day.long. and nothing shows for it.

Today, I batch-cooked EIGHT meals. Washed a dozen loads of laundry. Sewed patches onto battered winter gear. Reassured Junior of what a gloriously stupid floofball he is. But you wouldn’t know I did any of that. Despite hard work, the kitchen floor is spackled with muddy footprints, the counters saturated with BBQ pork juices, and Legos are everywhere. (I swear if I step on one more of those little blockheads…)

Last week, I spent most of my time hammering out the chicken coop. The break from the daily grind was welcome respite. Until it became a soul-crushing punishment. The housework piled up like none of y’alls business. The laundry list of tasks is so long and complex that it makes the Baudelaire children blush. 

Idk how to tackle these chores without burning out. See, I will most certainly try to do ALL the tasks within the hour, become exhausted, snap at everyone in the family, and rage eat chocolate cookie trail mix all the while furiously pecking the keyboard wailing about my woes as “relaxing soothing acoustic background music for writing” plays on the speakers.

Then there are the child-rearing struggles.

Lately, we’ve been dealing with an extreme case of “ignore and whining-itus”. The usual remedies are NOT working. I tried patience. I tried decluttering to reduce the overwhelm. I tried redirecting. I tried euphemisms like “Negativity is a choice!” and “Uh oh! That’s not polite. Try that again!” Nothing worked.

See, what I failed to consider was that that the little people do not care what I want. One kid took 3 hours to put away a single box of Lincoln Logs. Another kid whined about the color of our red toaster. The color.of.the.toaster. Another kid abused the cat with too many belly rubs. (That last one is a double offense because that’s my job.)

The ignoring and whining are ridiculously out of hand. The idea well has run dry. I cannot make little people care. I cannot control their behavior. The only thing I CAN do is ignore my children fighting in the next room over and whine about their childish behavior on the internet!

Idk what to do about the naughtiness without burning out. Since my boys repeatedly refused to clean up toys, I had them put said toys in a “time out” box for the day. Maybe that’ll inspire them to take better care of their things.

Most likely, they’ll only miss one or two toys. I bet they won’t notice the absence of the others. If so, I’ll donate the forgotten toys to the local buy-nothing Facebook group. While browsing the page, I’ll see another mom rage decluttering her kids’ toys. The shiny new-to-me toys will catch my eye. I’ll think, “My kids would love that!!!” and arrange a late-night porch pickup with the exhausted mom.

Is this bad parenting? Idk, man. All I know is that it’s exhausting.

And this mom is exhausted.

And full on chocolate cookie trail mix.

I’ll return and report tomorrow. Wish me luck! Or wish me a cleaning fairy! Or a nanny! A scary nanny to put the fear of God in my kids! Or the fear of Satan! Or that Satan himself will teach them the fear of a mother’s wrath! I’m not picky! xoxo!