The things my husband doesn’t know 

But does now, now that I’ve posted them here for all to see. 

The things my husband doesn’t know about me as a stay at home mom.

He doesn’t know that I’ve started using dry shampoo because I don’t have the time (or the energy) to wash my hair most days. 

He doesn’t know that I let our son eat peanut butter sandwiches for lunch as often as he asks because I don’t always have the time (or the energy) to fix him something else. Or I don’t want to deal with the mess that other foods cause on that particular day. And hey, at least the kid is eating! 

He doesn’t know that I slept in pee this morning because our daughter’s diaper leaked and there was just no way I was going to wake the sleeping children to change the sheets, thus insuring that none of us would be getting more sleep. I need sleep and if that means sleeping in a puddle of pee then I’ll do it. 

He doesn’t know the roller coaster of emotions that I feel all at once every single day at every single moment. 

He doesn’t know that feeling that I get as a mother when I hear my baby cry but I have to leave her crying for a few minutes because my toddler is either trying to kill himself or getting into something that could potentially hurt him or cause a giant mess. 

He doesn’t know the irritation of having a big dog constantly under foot who behaves much like a child and doesn’t help with anything. At all. 

He doesn’t know what it’s like to have the pressure (self inflicted of course) of keeping the house at a certain, bearable level of clean while also not neglecting the children. 

He doesn’t know how much effort it takes sometimes to do even just the minimum that is required of me as a wife and mother. And even that minimum sometime feels like it’s impossible to accomplish. 

He doesn’t know how often I have to just shrug and say “good enough” because if I didn’t, I would be a psychopath and nobody would be happy. 

He doesn’t know how often I evaluate and reevaluate myself, finding myself lacking, and then fighting to remind myself day in and day out that I can’t be perfect, I don’t have to be perfect, and that I’m really doing just fine. 

He doesn’t know what it is like to feel like my body isn’t my own. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have a child (or two) hanging off of me, touching me, and needing me 24/7.

He doesn’t know how incredibly drained I feel at the end of the day. 

And he doesn’t know that all of this isn’t insane or just pure emotion and hormones. These things can’t be “fixed” or made all better when looked at logically. 

Maybe he does know how hard I try but he doesn’t know what all goes into it or how much of myself I have to sacrifice. 

And I know that he doesn’t know these things not because he’s a jerk but because he’s a man and he has his own role to fill that I couldn’t fill as a woman. I know that there are probably things about him as a man in the workforce that I don’t know about because I’m not in it. I get that. But sometimes I do wish we could spend a day in each other’s shoes so that we would better know and understand what it is really like. Because it’s not as easy or as simple as we think it is. 

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