The Truth Behind Being a Stay-at-Home Mom
Where to start? For starters, this blog is absolutely not a comparison or competition between the working mom and the mom at home. A mom in general covers a range of jobs and habits such as a nurse, host, photographer, teacher, coach, chef, house-cleaner, planner, and more. This blog is strictly a way to navigate through the unfiltered truth behind the role at home, shedding light of the highs, lows, and everything in between for those who walk this path and for those who seek to understand it. So here is to those who are sick of the fake and exhausting social media posts and to those who think being home is a walk in the park.
Embarking on the journey of being a stay at home mom is often romanticized, the reality is full of resilience, self discovery, and unwavering devotion.
There is such joy in the quality time I get with my child, satisfaction in witnessing her milestones, and a sense of fulfillment in nurturing her. Conversely, there are such challenges in balancing household responsibilities, feeling isolated at times, and grappling with the pressure to “do it all.”
I am going to share two entirely different days I have had with my daughter.
Monday, February 26th
At 2:33 am, the sound of Charlie’s cries fills the room, pulling me from my restless slumber. I turn to her monitor, turn back to look at my partner sleeping, and silently plead for her to settle back to sleep. With heavy limbs and a weary mind, I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the kitchen. I measure formula and water, the rhythmic shaking of the bottle lulling me into a daze. As I enter Charlie’s room, her cries soften at the creak of the door, and relief floods through me as I scoop her into my arms. Nestled together in the rocking chair, I offer her the bottle, my eyelids drooping with exhaustion. Yet, the warmth of her presence soothes me, and before long, both she and I are drifting to sleep once more.
At 6:51 am, Charlie starts to squirm once more. My head throbs with pain, and I lie tangled in damp sheets, feeling nauseous. I silently pray, begging for relief from sickness—I can’t afford to be sick while caring for my daughter. I turned to my partner’s side of the bed and thought he must have snuck out quietly for work without waking me. Charlie’s cries pierce through the haze of sleep, signaling the start of another day. I think it’s Monday. As I groggily stumble towards her room, the realization hits me—the urgency of the bathroom. Sitting there, I long for the comfort of my bed, yearning for a day of uninterrupted rest. Yet, as thoughts of exhaustion threaten to overwhelm me, a reminder surfaces: Charlie needs her mom, and duty calls.
By 9:12 am, I barely navigated through the morning “shift.” This round involved a diaper and outfit change due to Charlie’s overnight mishap, followed by a 6-ounce bottle and a serving of avocado toast. As Charlie happily engaged in independent play in her activity center, I found solace on the couch, struggling to keep my eyes open. This morning, Mom skipped getting ready and missed out on her morning coffee. However, she did manage to sneak away to the bathroom three times. A sigh of relief comes over me, thank god I made it to nap time.
At 11:25 am, Charlie’s nap time comes to an end, and so does Mom’s brief moment of reprieve. I grab Charlie from her crib and thank her out loud for “sleeping good for mama.” Naps aren’t a regular occurrence in our daily routine, but today, with Mom battling a fever and struggling to keep up, they’re especially appreciated. With lunchtime approaching at noon, I open the fridge but I’m met with a wave of nausea, quickly shutting it. I start to pace around, grappling with food anxiety and the stress of ensuring Charlie’s meal is both nutritious and safe. I think “ugh I hate baby led weaning.” After a moment of deliberation, I settled on turkey purée and raspberries—small, small, small raspberries.
At 12:41 pm, I find myself once again on my hands and knees, cleaning my daughter’s high chair and the surrounding floor for what feels like the umpteenth time this week. It’s Monday. As I scrub the floor with water and paper towels, a wave of exhaustion washes over me, prolonging my stay on the ground. Suddenly, the realization hits me—I haven’t eaten anything today. Determined, I consider having some pasta. But before I can make a move, Charlie demands my attention with her insistent cries, instantly diverting my focus away from my rumbling belly.
At 12:59 pm, I create a cozy haven on the living room floor, arranging a playmat, blankets, pillows, toys, stuffed animals, and binkies for Charlie’s amusement. Seeking respite from the day’s exhaustion, I nestle into the blankets, collapsing in exhaustion next to Charlie as she engages with her beloved Nuby turtle toy. In this tranquil moment of reprieve, the weight of the day momentarily lifts, replaced by the simple joy of witnessing my daughter’s contentment.
At 2:11 pm, Mom celebrates a small victory as she successfully guides Charlie to her second nap of the day—a remarkable feat amidst the day’s challenges. Glancing at the clock, she notes that “dada” will be home in 64 minutes, almost time to clock out. As Charlie drifts off, Mom sinks into the couch. Despite the persistent rumbling of my hungry belly, I opt to remain seated.
The front door opens at 3:15 pm, it’s dada. Selfishly, I yearn to run to my bedroom, locking the door behind me, burying myself in my comforter. Yet, guilt washes over me, knowing there is still so much to be done. Overthinking sets in as I recall neglecting the sink full of dishes and dirty bottles today, alongside realizing I haven’t even considered dinner plans yet. Charlie’s dinner, bath, play, story, and bedtime routine still await after naptime. Can I leave it all to my partner, who’s also worked hard and surely desires relaxation as well? Retreating to my bedroom doesn’t sit right.
My partner reassures me that he’s more than happy to take care of Charlie while I recuperate from whatever illness came over me in the past 12 hours. He kindly suggests ordering dinner delivery since cooking isn’t his forte. I’m extremely grateful for his understanding and co-parenting support.
At 3:57pm, I awakened from a brief nap, faintly hearing my partner chatting with our daughter, who must have just woken up from her second nap. Despite still feeling unwell, I’m overwhelmed with guilt. Reminding myself it’s okay to rest, I opt to cozy up on the living room couch with my family rather than retreating to isolation in my bedroom for the evening. Groggily, I shuffle down the hallway to find my partner sprawled on the livingroom floor, playing with our daughter. My heart swells with happiness: I adore my family. In my usual manner, I blurted out, “don’t forget it’s almost time for charlies ‘baba’ and dinner.” With an eye roll, he responds “I know, Skylar.”
In my thoughts, I ponder the transition from being a loving girlfriend and boyfriend to embracing the roles of mom and dad. We’ve shifted from prioritizing each other to wholeheartedly loving someone else more. In my opinion, society doesn’t talk about it enough. Some days, I silently struggle with desires for my partner to approach parenting differently, while on other days, I vocalize a little too much. Sometimes I worry I’m just complaining, but at times, I do know I’m justified. Being a new mom is challenging, but juggling that with being a loving partner adds another layer of difficulty. Perhaps it’s the hormones, the constant touch from our baby, the hours of overstimulating play, or maybe it’s just me. But surely, I can’t be alone in feeling this way, can I?
As the night progresses, I offer minimal assistance to my partner as he tackles nighttime and bedtime duties. Finally, I managed to eat something– he had dinner delivered, opting for one of my favorites: a chicken pho bowl. Hopefully, it will make me feel a bit better. I give my partner minimal love and attention before retreating to bed. I take a deep breath and pray that Charlie sleeps through the night. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.
Wednesday, April 3rd
At 7:10 am, I awakened to silence. Sunlight streams through my bedroom windows illuminating my partner’s vacant side of the bed and Charlie’s monitor displaying a black screen. My initial reaction is one of fear. I quickly leap out of bed and grab Charlie’s monitor, anxiously checking for a sign of life. Relief floods over me as I observe her chest rising and falling rhythmically. “Wow, what a relief,” I think to myself. “Charlie slept through the night.”
As I make my way to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee, I pause to take a deep breath, feeling oddly alone in my pajamas. In that moment of solitude, I reflect on my morning routine, realizing it feels incomplete without my baby girl awake beside me.
At 7:36 am, Charlie finally wakes up, and I realize I had a precious 26 minutes to gather myself and prepare for the day ahead, determined to make the most of it. Both of us feeling incredibly well-rested, I practically sprint to my daughters bedroom to greet her with a loving good morning and plant kisses on her adorable cheeks. I open her blinds, turn off her noise machine, and gently remove her sleep sack. As she greets me with a radiant smile, I am filled with joy. During my brief moment of solitude, I had already prepared a clean diaper, wipes, and a full bottle, ready to start the day on the right foot.
We enjoyed a slow morning together, savoring two cups of coffee, a hearty breakfast, playtime, two diaper changes, watching Good Morning America, and bouncing around in the jolly jumper. During this morning “shift,” Charlie began getting herself up into a crawling position all by herself and I cheered her on. Before we knew it, nap time arrived swiftly at 10:02 am, granting me another moment of solitude. Contemplating my options, I decide to prepare a crockpot meal; white chicken chili. I set the mood with some music playing from my speaker, inviting in the refreshing spring breeze through the open back slider door, and gathering all of the necessary ingredients. Fueled by this positive energy, I dive into a cleaning spree, meticulously scrubbing and organizing the kitchen. Nearly, two hours pass by in a blur, until Charlie signals that nap time is over.
At 11:49 am, I plop Charlie into her high chair, placing a plate filled with yogurt, sliced cucumbers, cut-up strawberries, and shredded mozzarella cheese in front of her. As she digs into her lunch, I sit beside her at the kitchen table, keeping a close watch as she explores her food. Though I’m gradually becoming more accustomed to baby-led-weaning, I still find myself rarely taking my eyes off her during meal times. Like clockwork, my daily routine involves rinsing Charlie off in the sink, wiping down her high chair, and scrubbing the floors.
The sun streaming through the living room windows yells at me to step outside. Quickly, I grab Charlie’s CarHart jumpsuit, a pair of socks, and a hat to prepare her for a stroll. As Charlie happily plays in her activity center, I swiftly change out of my pajamas. Together, we venture outside to retrieve the stroller. My partner, Steve, calls me crazy, but I am certain my daughter said mama during this walk, I won’t ever forget it (and yes, I wrote it in the baby book). With no particular destination in mind, we embark on a leisurely walk down our road, simply reveling in the warmth of the sunshine and the crispness of the fresh air.
Following our walk, at 2:36 pm, it was time for Charlie’s second nap. Uncertain of its duration, I persisted in tidying my house, finding solace in the orderliness of freshly made beds, folded laundry, and gleaming floors. I also remembered to call my daughter’s dentist to schedule her first appointment since she has two teeth now. Dada walked through the door around 3:15 pm and I figured it was a good time for me to clock out. Heading to the gym always gives me a reset and a feeling of achievement. I prepare my gym bag, remind my partner to wake Charlie up around 4:30 pm, and to feed her dinner by 5:00 pm if I’m not back yet. He offers reassurance and encourages me to savor my time away from home.
Entering my house at 5:07 pm, the lively chatter of my family in the kitchen greets me, accompanied by the enticing aroma of chili emanating from the crockpot. Ascending the stairs into the entryway, I make my way to the kitchen with a big smile on my face. Thoughts of gratitude and contentment flood my mind as I reflect on the joy of motherhood, feeling blessed. As Charlie enjoys her pureed sweet potato with her dada, I dish out bowls of chili for us. Gathering around the table, we relish the moments of being a family.
At 5:42 pm, I began running the bath, gathering a fresh washcloth, a clean pair of pajamas, and a diaper. Each evening, my partner and I alternate between tidying up the kitchen and bathing our daughter. On this particular night, Steve volunteered to tackle the kitchen, leaving me to bathe our sweet girl.
Over the next hour and a half, I squeezed in a quick shower, and then we savored some quality time in the living room, engaging in toy play, reading books, and having the tv playing in the background. By 7:30pm, Charlie finished her final 7 ounce baba for the day, signaling that it was time for our bedtime routine, which I typically handle. I plant a gentle kiss on my baby girl’s forehead, tuck her into her sleep sack, and wish her a good night’s sleep. I happily ended my night snuggled next to my partner on the couch watching a movie.
Our day was brimming with important little moments, serving as a poignant reminder of the joys of motherhood and the fulfillment of being a stay-at-home mom. However, it also highlighted that while I may not have a traditional job, there’s little time for relaxation or basking in the sun. My days are consumed with nurturing and safeguarding my child’s well-being and contentment– a role I believe to be the toughest and most vital in this challenging world.
While I understand that every moms experience is unique, along with fathers. Whether they are single parents, full-time working parents, part-time working parents, or stay-at-home parents, I have chosen to share this story to highlight the significance of seemingly small moments in our lives as mothers/parents. My aim is to foster a sense of unity and understanding, so that no mom/parents ever feels alone. I hope to connect with those who have yet to experience motherhood/parenthood or may never experience it at all.
Reflecting on these two contrasting days with my daughter reminds me of the beautiful unpredictability of motherhood. While one day may overflow with laughter, play, and precious moments, the next might present unexpected challenges and tests of patience. Yet, within both the highs and lows, there’s a common thread of love, resilience, and the unwavering bond between a mother and her child. Through sharing these experiences I hope to convey the raw authenticity of the stay-at-home mom journey and offer solidarity to fellow moms navigating their own unique paths.
