Dear Husband

My husband always comes home with the same question-are you in the mood? Wait a minute! That is the second question… His first question is always the same though. “What did you do today?” Those four words seem simple enough, but for some reason hearing those particular words, in that specific order, changes me into a stuttering idiot who looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Do? Uh, yes, I recall doing stuff all day, but my mind is totally blank at the moment.” My eyes quickly dart around the house, searching for something; anything, that would release me from this state of amnesia. I can’t seem to find any proof, however, that suggests me “doing” anything at all; the evidence, in fact, leads one to believe that the only thing that I did was stand helplessly by while someone or something trashed our house.

I have studied this peculiar situation, searched out a reason for my inability to vocalize the accounts of my day to my husband. I have come to the conclusion that after living an entire day in “my shoes” that I must be so overloaded that my internal memory must block out certain factors of my day; call it self-preservation if you will. There are certain things in life that are better left buried in the deepest realm of a mother’s mind.

While I still have some use of my faculties, I have decided to transpose a quick written account of my day thus far that I can later hand over to my spouse when he asks me that infamous question.

Dear Husband,

You have asked me “what did you do today?” and I am going to the best of my ability give you a brief glimpse into my Mommy world. Actually, my day began in the middle of your night. Two of your children were sick and needed attention. I let you sleep. I didn’t; at least not what you would consider a complete, restful sleep cycle. I heard your alarm bright and early. Yes, I also saw the “nudge, nudge, wink, wink” as well as heard your stomach rumble. I chose the lesser of the evils and made you breakfast while you showered. For your information, I never had the time for a hygiene moment today.

Okay, reliving this day is already making me lightheaded and my head to hurt…the rest of what I have to say is in no particular order. Please forgive me if I sound disoriented…

I fed and watered five kids (not to mention packed nutrients to send for their survival outside of our home), two dogs, and some withering looking things that once were green plants. I cannot recount all I did to get the kids off to school, too traumatic. Let’s just say; they survived, I barely did.

I cleaned up: spilled beverages, dropped plate of eggs, squashed banana on my carpet, something that was hopefully just chocolate that was all over the bathroom tiles and the toothpaste that somebody painted with. I am not going to list every item that I cleaned up, but perhaps just mention a few of the more “colorful” highlights.

I rewound an entire roll of toilet paper back onto the proper placement of aforementioned paper product. For future reference; the second time I just piled it, neatly as possible, in the corner next to the toilet.

Do you remember the billion plus jewelry beads that we bought for the kids for hours of creativity and fun? I spent more hours of cleaning them up than the children have ever used them.

Somebody decided to decorate the house with Easter grass and candy wrappers galore. While I totally celebrate the true meaning behind this holy day, next year, be warned, I might have to do bodily harm to that dumb bunny that visits our house! Which reminds me, I searched the house for the lost Easter egg to no avail…how long before the smell gives the hiding place away?

I unplugged the toilet-not once-not twice-but THREE times-and the day is not over. I almost had to call Guinness Book of World Records…WOW! At least we know our children are eating-what?-I’m not so sure.

I did dishes and went to put them away…when I opened the cupboards I was pummeled by a tower of falling debris left by the last person who had this chore.

I vacuumed, cleaned the bunnies cage, wiped up the chocolate syrup trail that somebody was drinking in the middle of the afternoon (that somebody was not me, no matter what you think!), filled out paperwork, answered the phone 50 times for somebody named Penny (and, no, we don’t have anyone named Penny in our household), changed the sheets on the bed of our youngest, changed our bedding because same child peed on our bed, too, found the wet clothing that pee-boy tried to hide as evidence of his misdeeds, did laundry (btw, our washer may be dying…), goggled MapQuest to plan my escape route, I mean, I looked up driving directions from child #1’s music lesson to child #2’s karate class, sat with the bag of mismatched socks, rocking and mumbling, “I think I can, I think I can…”

Okay, my mind can’t handle much more…let’s fast forward.

Your school children came home, dropping book bags, shoes and coats. They demanded food. I consoled a child (for more than 2 hours of crying and whining!) over her boyfriend and best friend trauma drama. I broke up fights, directed chaos, cleaned up baby spit up, and helped with homework. I prepared a nutritious and delicious meal for your homecoming. Now, at this moment, your children are out of sight and out of mind…I cannot be held liable for the conditions you come home to later in this evening.

I know I have not revealed to you everything that I have experienced today. Some things just cannot be put into words; trust me. Anyhow, by the time you come home tonight and ask me “what have you done today?” I will be oblivious to my surroundings; possibly even in a catatonic state of mind. Hopefully you can at least pry this paper from my weary fingers and gain a little bit of understanding about my day…