I often find myself rearranging the cozy blankets in our living room. There are several crocheted throws and a wool blanket, all meant to add warmth and comfort. However, the moment I tidy them up, one of my children or my partner, Jake, seems to feel compelled to drag them back into disarray. In our more formal sitting area, we have some luxurious throws: a beautiful Irish wool blanket, a soft cashmere one, and a plush faux-fur blanket that seems to attract chaos. My children, especially my three boys, love to toss them aside, turning them into makeshift forts or leaving them on the floor for our dog, Max, to lounge on. So, it falls to me to pick them up—time and time again—folding each one neatly and placing them back on the couch. This cycle repeats several times a day, and somehow, it appears to go unnoticed by everyone else.
It’s a similar story with the little things around the house. I’m the one who consistently straightens the throw rugs, from the kitchen to the living room. I pick up the pillows that my kids toss around, whether they are building forts or just enjoying the thrill of tossing soft objects. These are the everyday tasks that mothers typically handle, yet they often go unrecognized. Over time, this lack of acknowledgment can weigh heavily on the spirit. You begin to feel insignificant, as though your efforts don’t matter or aren’t valued. And honestly, it stings.
I don’t mind taking care of the larger chores. I manage the laundry—washing, drying, sorting, folding, and putting it away. I clean the bathrooms, albeit irregularly, but I do it nonetheless. These tasks don’t bother me because they get acknowledged, at least by Jake, who is kind enough to express gratitude, even if I have to remind him that I swept the kitchen floor. His recognition gives my work some meaning, a small affirmation of love for my family.
Then there are the tasks that go unnoticed. Every time I spot a stray marble—thanks to my youngest, who loves to scatter them—I pick it up and return it to its container. Whenever I find one of the kids’ collectible coins, I make sure to place it in their bank. I have a little station on the side table in the living room where I stash miscellaneous items like Lego pieces, plastic soldiers, and marbles. My family seems oblivious to this effort, which can be disheartening.
There’s a well-known story in Catholicism about cathedrals, highlighting how we recognize the architect but often overlook the quiet laborers who actually bring beauty to life. This story is often likened to the selfless nature of motherhood. Sure, I’m not looking to escape my responsibilities, but it would mean so much to hear someone acknowledge the small things I do daily—like when I’m bent over, retrieving crayons from the dog’s bowl, for someone to say, “You’re doing great, Mom.” Or perhaps, “I noticed you folded that throw six times today; you’re amazing.”
Some might think I’m being overly dramatic. They might say, “Suck it up, this is part of being a stay-at-home mom.” And maybe they’re right. Perhaps a sprinkle of Mary Poppins’ cheer could help, but it’s tough to summon that spirit while digging Lego shards out of our dog’s paw. It’s not that these chores are particularly onerous; it’s just that my family either doesn’t see them or assumes they will always be done. Both scenarios leave something to be desired.
I’m the one who hangs up the hand towels in the bathroom, takes out the trash from every room, and lays out the kids’ clothes, including their pajamas and underwear. I ensure their shoes and hats are ready, especially since they burn easily. After bouts of illness, I put the medicine away and regularly check for expired items, making a list of what we need. I make sure the kids have sunscreen and their favorite snacks. All of this goes unnoticed, and it raises the question: is this what it means to be a mother? Is this love? To be completely honest, it can be quite overwhelming.
I tried discussing it with Jake. He seemed to understand and suggested I shouldn’t get so upset over the messes because I end up cleaning them. He advised me to adopt the mantra “Not my mess” and encourage the kids to help. I’ve been trying, and it does ease some of the burden, but I worry about placing too much responsibility on my oldest, which feels unfair.
So I continue to fold, pick up tiny toys, arrange pillows, and put pens away, all while hoping for someone to recognize my efforts.
For those navigating similar feelings of invisibility in motherhood, exploring resources like this article on pregnancy can be beneficial, as well as looking into fertility supplements for a deeper understanding of the journey. And if you’re interested in home insemination, this blog post could provide valuable insights.
In summary, the myriad tasks of motherhood often go unnoticed, contributing to feelings of futility and insignificance. Acknowledgment, even for the smallest contributions, can make a world of difference in feeling valued and appreciated.
Keyphrase: The unseen efforts of motherhood
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