I neatly arrange the blankets in the living room. There are two sizable crocheted throws, one smaller crocheted throw, and a woven wool blanket. Unless, of course, someone—whether it’s my kids or my partner—decides to bring another one in.
In our formal sitting area, we have the elegant blankets: an Irish wool throw, a luxurious cashmere blanket, and a delightfully fuzzy blanket that looks suspiciously like it once belonged to a Muppet. My husband and three kids—especially the trio of boys—love to drag them down, crumple them up, and toss them on the floor for the dogs to lounge on or to construct makeshift forts. Thus, it falls upon me to collect each one, fold it in order of size, and neatly place it back on the couch. And by “repeat,” I mean “repeat it six damn times a day.” This simple task seems to escape everyone else’s notice. They just keep pulling them down again.
This scenario extends to other trivial chores around the house. I’m the one who diligently straightens the throw rugs, from the kitchen to the dining room and living room. I’m also the one who picks up the pillows (often not very patiently) when the kids decide to use them as building blocks for their never-ending forts or to toss them around for sheer amusement.
These are the small, often thankless tasks that every mom takes on. Yet, over time, this lack of acknowledgment can take a toll on the spirit. You start to feel ineffective, as if your contributions hold no value. It stings.
I’m not bothered by the larger chores—those I tackle with ease. I do the laundry: washing, drying, sorting, folding, and putting it all away. I clean the bathrooms—though admittedly not as often as I should—but I do it. I don’t resent these responsibilities; they are recognized, at least by myself and usually by my partner, Jake, who acknowledges my efforts with a simple “thank you” (even if I have to announce, “I swept the kitchen floor”). That recognition gives my work some significance and serves as a reminder of my love for my family. Because why else would I bother?
Then there’s the unseen labor. Every time I spot a marble—thanks to my 3-year-old’s fascination—I pick it up and toss it in the marble container. Whenever I find one of the collectible coins that their grandfather gifted them for Christmas, I tuck it away in their bank. I keep a little metallic station in the living room for tiny items that I can’t put away right then. This space is filled with Lego pieces, plastic soldiers, and dice. Yet, my family remains blissfully unaware of this private corner of organization, which deflates me a bit.
There’s a well-known story about cathedrals, how we recognize the architects but overlook the quiet craftsmen who brought the beauty to life. This serves as a metaphor for selfless motherhood. We might not seek recognition because we’re simply doing our jobs, creating beauty in our homes. Is this my role? Perhaps. But I’m not looking to escape these duties; I’m yearning for someone—anyone—to take notice when they see me bent over, retrieving crayons from the dog bowl and say, “You’re doing a great job with the details, Mom.” Or maybe, “I saw you fold that blanket six times today. You’re amazing.”
Some may perceive this as whining. They might say, “Tough it out, sweetheart. This is what you signed up for as a stay-at-home mom.” Maybe they’re right, or perhaps a touch of Mary Poppins magic could lighten my load. But it’s hard to muster that spirit when I’m digging a Lego piece out of my dog’s paw. It’s not that these tasks are particularly dreadful; it’s just that my family either doesn’t notice or assumes I’ll always handle it. Neither scenario is particularly appealing.
I put up the hand towels in the bathroom. I empty the trash cans—not just in the kitchen but throughout the house, too. I lay out the kids’ clothes, pajamas, and even their underwear, ensuring everything is the right size. I select their shoes and hats (because they burn easily). After we’ve all been sick, I put the medicine away. Twice a year, I sort through the medicine cabinet, making sure none of it is expired and creating a shopping list for what we need. I ensure the kids have sunscreen and their favorite snacks. All of this goes unnoticed. The bulk of my day is spent on tasks that remain invisible. Is this what motherhood entails? Is this the essence of love? Because, honestly, this part is exhausting.
I tried discussing this with Jake. He seemed to get it and suggested I shouldn’t let messes upset me so much. I explained that it’s precisely because I’m the one who has to clean them that I feel overwhelmed. He advised me to practice saying, “Not my mess,” and to encourage the kids to pitch in. So, I try. It helps a little, but I worry it’s too much pressure on my oldest, which creates a different kind of guilt.
And so, I continue to fold, to pick up scattered toys, arrange pillows, and put away stray pens. I wait for someone, anyone, to notice.
In this whirlwind of parenting, where the small yet significant details often slip through the cracks, it’s crucial to find community and resources that resonate with these experiences. For further insights into navigating the complexities of motherhood, you might explore our blog on couples’ fertility journeys. Additionally, for more on family dynamics, including in-laws, check out this resource. And if you’re seeking information on pregnancy and home insemination, IVF Babble is an excellent place to start!
Summary
The emotional toll of being an unseen caregiver can weigh heavily on mothers, as they tackle countless daily tasks without acknowledgment. While larger chores may receive recognition, it’s often the smaller, repetitive duties that go unnoticed, leading to feelings of futility. Seeking appreciation for these contributions is a common desire among mothers, reflecting the deeper need for connection and validation in their roles.