I was drenched head to toe in sweat post hot yoga. The sun had already gone down. I was on my way home and feeling hungry. I pulled into a parking spot and hit up the gyro place. I threw a pink heart sweat shirt over my stickiness, in hopes to hide my wetness.

The place was empty- just me and a gentleman on the other side of the cash register. I ordered my gyro greek salad. I felt cold.

I found a seat at an empty table and perused Facebook to pass the time. The gentleman behind the counter striked up a convo.

“What did you do, today?”

That is a loaded question. How does one explain the duties of being a mother.

I explained I was a stay at home mom, that I’d taken both kids to school, scooped James at noon, painted with him, scooped Hope, took them to the mall to play, and then came home. & there are a million and one things in between, but I just wanted to snag my salad and get home.

He continued, “Is that all you did, today?!?!? Do you work?!?!?”

(Shame ensues)

There was not enough time to tell him what my day consisted of. How does one even begin to  measure the amount of work that goes into being a parent? You absolutely can’t, it’s immeasurable. There is no list of duties to check off, an amount you earn per hour, or a time clock to clock in and out of. Being a mom is 24/7, 365 days a year. It’s constant, unending, infinite, and the absolute most important work one will ever do in their entire lives.

I could feel that feeling of anger rising, that feeling of having to defend what I must do ‘all day long.’ Here it goes…

I replied, “Well, if you consider being a stay at home mom work, than, yes, I work.”

He continued, “So, your husband works all day?

“Yes, yes he does.”

I’m thinking this:

But, I’m the one that gets up at 6 to get the kids breakfast, pack lunches, get kids ready for school, and do cuddle time. B is out the door by 5 and not home until 6, it’s just me the whole day. I cook and clean and vacuum and fill out paper work and feed the cat and  straighten up. I matter too, right? Right? I had that empty feeling in my soul, that one that makes me feel as if my work was not as important just because it’s not measurable and it does not fit into a box with a bow.

It’s messy work. It’s long work. It’s not always comfortable. There’s a lot of tears. There’s a lot of exhaustion and frustration and a lot of  ‘I don’t knows.’  There is no amount of money attached. So, if one does not receive a paycheck for their work, is it still considered work, is it a career? What do we call being a stay at home mom?

I felt like I had to defend myself, as if what I had explained I did for the day was not even close to enough, so I went into my past and mentioned that I taught for 9 years and that when both kids are at the same school, that I will, most likely, go back to teaching. I’m not even sure if that is what I want to do, but it seemed to appease him and shut him up.

Why do I care what this guy thinks of me? I care too much about what others think of me. It’s a problem I’ve struggled with my entire life, especially the not feeling good enough part. It stems from childhood. Why am I still struggling with this? I’m 39 for crying out loud. I’m not a fan of this part of myself. Not in the slightest, but I can feel it bubbling up and I feel like I have to get out of this restaurant.

He then said, “Of course you will!!!! That makes sense.” He smiled.

Yay, I got his approval, but then I’m left feeling empty and unfulfilled. I hate that feeling more than any other feeling, that feeling of not enough.

Hmmmm, but what if I decide not to go back to work at all? What if I decide that staying home is what is best for our family? Does that equate to me being lazy, not enough, worthless, and less than? If I can’t point to a  list of what I completed for the day, does that make me useless?

I think we need to be very  careful that we don’t assume that ‘work’ looks one way. Many are single parents just trying to make ends meet, some are unable to work for whatever reason, many work from home, many work outside of the home, some own a business, & some are  stay at home working moms. Work looks different in every home and is unique to each individual family. We must be mindful of this and treat each one we meet with respect, dignity, and honor. You do not know what others are going through, so give people the benefit of the doubt.

This parenting gig is hard. That is all there is to it. It’s hard to juggle it all and to find a balance that makes sense for us. It’s a work in progress that takes a lot of adjusting & modifying and readjusting and more modifying and canceling and scheduling and rescheduling and so on and so forth.

I felt a bit off guard, as if he was inferring that I should be doing more, as if me being a full-time stay at home is not enough to fill a day. This was my interpretation of the conversation and I certainly could be wrong. I don’t have to create a story about it. It is his opinion and he certainly has a right to it, but I made it out to mean that I was not enough.

It stung for a split second to be questioned about what I do for a living. I kinda want to switch with him for a single day. I wonder if it would change his mind.

Motherhood is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.  I taught on the westside, inner-city, with 30 plus kids at time. Motherhood is most certainly harder because those kids go home. My kids are here 24/7.

I continued to fill the silence, as if I had to explain myself to this man & I don’t know why. Before I left, I mentioned how blessed I felt to be able to stay at home, how thankful I am that my husband works hard  all day in order to allow me to stay home, & how much of a gift it truly is to be able to stay home. I told him I’m going to milk it as long as I can because they will not be this little for long. He agreed.

I shook my head a bit as I left the restaurant.

I feel as if some people just do not understand the ins and outs of what it must mean to be a stay at home mom. I don’t work harder than anyone else, but I do work. My work is valid and it matters and it’s enough. I just want credit for what I do, that’s all. I don’t want to be overlooked or cut down or made to feel less than because I can’t pinpoint all that I do in a single sentence.

I think we need to be careful with our words.

I think we need to watch what we say to others.

I think that we need to embrace what it is people choose to do with their time.

I think we need to meet people where they are.

I think we need to give people more grace, more love, more acceptance, and more empathy.

Embrace those around you and accept them from where they stand and for whom they are.

& if I would have had more time, I would have said this to the Mr. behind the cash register:

I potty train, I model do overs, I teach empathy, I practice decibel awareness, I say sorry a lot, I model making mistakes, I catch copious amounts of snot with tissues, I model acceptance, I have play dates, I yell,  I administer medicine, I make owwwies all better, I change pull ups, I model empathy, I teach proper grammar, I go grocery shopping, I change clothes, I cuddle/ snuggle/ embrace/ & love, I keep kids safe,  I bathe, I fix breakfast/ lunch/ & dinner, I taxi to and from 2 different schools, I do homework, I paint, I teach self-worth, I play ball, I laugh, I joke, I teach boundaries,  I discipline, I practice forgiveness, I do hard things, I play tickle monster on the swings,  I teach tolerance, I brush teeth, I taxi  to and from soccer, I play cheerleader, I decorate for the holidays, I take them to the doctor, I take time outs for myself, I buy sports equipment, I take things away, I assign time out, I teach what it means to be vulnerable, I slather on lotion, I watch shows,  I admit my mistakes often, I teach what it means to be a friend, I take them to the dentist, I attend parent/ teacher conferences, I throw birthday parties, I create Halloween costumes, I attend dance recitals, I take them on bike rides,  I snap, I cringe, I bite my tongue, I teach assertiveness, I teach do-overs, I take away privileges, I talk about uncomfortable things, I take a lot of pictures,  I ask for do overs, I teach morals, I take them to feed the ducks, I take them to the park, I ask for forgiveness,  I help make posters for school, I pack lunches, I read library books, I get climbed on like a jungle gym, I crack up, I make lots and lots and lots of food, I reach a breaking point,  I bribe, I organize homework, I get told that I am mean often,  I hold back the tears, I cry A LOT, I prepare snacks, I refill water bottles, I wash/ dry/ & fold laundry, I learn a TON, I get taken back, I get schooled, I apologize a lot,  I get blown away by my kids, I take videos, I am strong when I don’t want to be, I step on and pick up toys, I do cuddle time, I make mistakes, I read books, I clean and clean and clean and clean and clean, I teach safety, I brush hair, I make lots and lots and lots of crafts, I get yelled at, I get compared (on a regular basis) to Brian for whom is not a yeller and is much more calm and much more funny than me, and the list continues.

The truth is, there is no way to measure the work of a mother. Mothers are irreplaceable and their days do not end at 5 o’clock. The work of a mother is endless, tireless, important, and infinite. The love we feel in our hearts for our children is indescribable and invaluable.

Don’t ever allow another person to make you feel less than for what you do or don’t do. Your work is valid, you are enough, & you matter!

Now… go hug your mom!