As I find myself crawling on the floor beneath the dining room table, retrieving what seems to be an entire ear of corn from under my 18-month-old son’s chair, I can’t help but reflect, “How did I end up in this situation?” My attention drifts to our cat, Oliver, who has been largely ignored since my son’s arrival and even more so since the birth of our twins five months ago. He looks at me longingly, caught between his cat toy and my presence, as if to say, “Since you’re already on the floor, why not play with me?” Unfortunately, I can’t engage. It’s not that I don’t want to, but rather that the twins are wailing in the living room, their diapers overdue for a change and their onesies speckled with spit-up from earlier.
Fortunately, my partner, James, takes charge of the twins while I tackle the mess of dinner dishes and bottles. This is what our evenings have become; this is our daily routine. I vaguely remember my professional life—running programs and teaching psychology in the evenings, engaging in adult conversations, and enjoying casual Fridays. Now, I struggle to recall when I last fed the twins.
Taking a simple walk or even retrieving the mail has become a monumental effort, a far cry from my pre-children existence. Am I complaining? Perhaps. Do I resent it? Not exactly. If someone had told me five or ten years ago that I would marry, get pregnant immediately (and I mean immediately), stop working, have a son, and then conceive twins just four and a half months later, I would have laughed uproariously. Even more so if they had suggested that I would actually enjoy the chaos.
My collection of nail care products and makeup has sat untouched for nearly two years, and my professional credentials lapsed as a high-risk twin pregnancy kept me from fulfilling mandatory training. I mourned the loss of my career for quite some time, but the arrival of twins alongside an already-active toddler swiftly shifted my perspective.
In my 32 years, I have never been busier or worked harder. The skills and education I once held dear have taken a backseat to my role as a stay-at-home mom. Though there are days filled with frustration and exhaustion, I would be even more disheartened if someone else witnessed my children’s first smiles, crawls, or words while I was too fatigued from work to appreciate those moments myself.
My days are consumed with discussions about diapers and spit-up, relishing brief moments of silence at day’s end before collapsing into sleep. I take immense joy in hearing my son say “thank you” correctly or watching him learn to comb his hair and brush his teeth. I see the once-stoic faces of my family soften when they meet my babies.
My feelings of discontent and lack of fulfillment faded away the moment James leaned down to kiss our twins, Noah and Lily, for the first time. That unexpected moment of connection surprised me and renewed my perspective.
For now, I’m okay with where I am.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the chaotic yet rewarding life of a stay-at-home mom navigating the challenges of parenting multiple young children. It touches on the sacrifices made in professional life, the joys found in everyday moments, and the unexpected fulfillment that can arise from embracing this new role.
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