A friend and I once had a candid conversation about our daily lives. At the time, I was a stay-at-home mom while he held a high-ranking position at a prestigious advertising agency, something grand like “Chief of Creative Brand Synergy.” I couldn’t help but ask what that truly involved.
“I orchestrate creative brand synergy,” he said.
“What does that mean in layman’s terms?” I pressed.
“I manage creative initiatives,” he replied, slightly annoyed.
“So, what do you do when you arrive at your office each morning and grab your coffee? What keeps you busy until 6 p.m.?” I asked, simplifying it like I was explaining to a child.
“I send emails,” he admitted. “And you?”
“I clean up messes,” I answered.
Motherhood comes with various labels: homemaker, full-time mom, working mother, stay-at-home mom, or work-from-home mom. We can dissect these titles all day, but when it comes down to the core responsibilities of being a mom, it’s mostly about cleaning up after everyone.
To be fair, it isn’t just wiping. Occasionally, I’m engaged in scraping, scrubbing, folding, or sweeping. The title hardly matters, as a closer look at my daily tasks reveals I’m mostly a cleaning service.
This isn’t a huge problem, except for the fact that I dislike cleaning. I find chores that need repeating—like dishes, laundry, and tidying up—the most frustrating. (I even feel this way about personal grooming. Sometimes, while showering, I think, “Didn’t I just do this yesterday?”)
When you have a baby, a multitude of surprises await: the pain of childbirth, the costs of childcare, and the unsolicited advice about dressing your child in hot weather. But the most shocking element for me, something no one warned me about, was the exponential increase in cleaning duties. I’d say it’s at least a tenfold increase, but I’m not sure of the term for that—perhaps “dectuples?”
Before children, my husband and I treated chores as minor inconveniences: washing a few dishes daily, vacuuming occasionally, and scrubbing the tub only when it became embarrassingly dirty. However, with kids, a single meal transforms the kitchen into a disaster zone. After breakfast, it resembles a battlefield, complete with toast crusts as casualties. Jam has a way of decorating surfaces that should remain untouched. We end up using about 30 plates and numerous utensils for a single meal. Grit seems to multiply underfoot despite my best efforts to sweep and vacuum.
The dirty dishes could be on a conveyor belt. In my early days as a stay-at-home mom, as my husband left for work, I would quip, “You know who Sisyphus’ wife was? Dishyphus. While he was out making a name for himself with his rock, Dishyphus was home battling eggs stuck to the frying pan.” Then, I would often burst into tears. My insightful husband suggested we might want to reconsider how we share household duties.
But even with both of us pitching in, it feels never-ending. It takes all day, every day, to restore some semblance of order after the kids. Someone has a knack for cutting up tiny pieces of paper that are impossible to sweep. Another one decided that the door was an excellent canvas for marker scribbles. Sand from shoes somehow makes its way into my freshly made bed, and attempts to use the toilet at night often lead to mishaps. (Maybe that was me once or twice.) Then there are the booger discoveries on the walls that nearly pushed me to my breaking point.
My husband, too worn out in the evenings to clean the pots, will stash a single tablespoon of pasta sauce in the fridge, convinced he’ll eat it tomorrow—knowing full well it’s just a temporary home for mold. Coats, shoes, and bags line the hallway, like a trail of clothing left behind on a very short marathon. I’ve given up asking the kids to hang up their things and just kick my way through.
When a baby is born in a hospital, every new mother should be handed microfiber cloths, some rags, and a roll of paper towels. Alongside breastfeeding and bathing classes, a housekeeping crash course should be mandatory. “Get ready,” they should say. “Breastfeeding and diaper changes are fleeting. But cleaning up after your child? That’s forever.”
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Summary
Motherhood is often romanticized, but the reality includes endless cleaning and unexpected messes. The responsibilities can feel overwhelming, and while parenting comes with joy, the daily grind of cleaning is a significant part of the experience. New parents should be prepared for this reality as they embark on their parenting journey.