It was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times: What my husband doesn't know about Motherhood

So a few months ago, Mike and I bought these awesome electric toothbrushes we kept seeing at Costco, we love them and they have fulfilled all their teeth whitening, plaque erasing promises. Except unlike normal toothbrushes you have to actually replace the brush heads every 3 months. We noticed they weren't working as well, so Mike began reminding me to buy more. At least 5 Costco trips have come and gone and we still do not have the brush-heads. My hygenic husband is getting annoyed with me but I do all the shopping so he's at the mercy of my super-spotty memory.

Yesterday around noon, I went into the bathroom and saw that his toothbrush was black. Like either one of the kids brushed their teeth with chocolate in their mouth, it had a run-in with some potting soil, or (most likely) someone used it to wipe their butt. I noticed... but then a zillion other things happened and I forgot-- until Mike came home, went to blow his nose, and totally freaked out.

I already felt on edge, because #lifewithfourkids but at first gave him the benefit of the doubt because hey, if we're entitled to anything in this world it's a poop-free toothbrush. However, after hearing again...and again, then realizing he never said "thank you" for dinner or complimented me on our clean-ish house, the whole situation began to get under my skin.

And after a few minutes, I was full on fuming. In my mind a slideshow played of all the crap I had put up with so far this week.

Let's start with Mack, the best behaved kid.

Monday I gave him an impromptu haircut: "Mom, I just wanted to see if the gum would stick to my forehead!" Tuesday I caught him peeing on Archie's Little Tikes car in the backyard: "But you said I could pee outside!"

Archer. I could tell a thousand tales...
Wednesday I found him with the box of tampons I had just bought the night before (rushing to the drugstore right before it closed, during the witching hour with 4 cranky kids in tow!) dipping them into the toilet one at a time and licking the toilet water off the plastic wrapping like they were popsicles, the big kids were super confused why I was in the shower with my clothes on, scrubbing Archer from head to toe!

I had a good cry Thursday morning because I had lost my temper with the kids immediately after we talked about our verse for the day: "Love is patient and kind," so glad I can give them a great example of the OPPOSITE of love.

These are just a few *bonus* moments on top of the daily rhythms of housework, instructing, playing, cooking, driving, ecetera... and let's not even mention all the wonky health issues we've had the last month.

A lot of times when Mike gets home and says, "Honey how was your day?" I respond with a simple, "yeah." Or sometimes if it was really bad, I'll just say, "Ummmm...." It is our code for the fact that my days can no longer be summed up in a few simple phrases. In this house, with these people, and it being the heightened intensity that is SUMMER with all 4 little people home all day, every day, words can not often describe the roller coaster I am on for the next 18 years and all the mamas said, Amen.

So although I wanted to FREAK OUT on Mike for being critical about the toothbrush incident, because seriously-- stop complaining, rub some bleach on that thing and move on to the next catastrophe, I had to stop and realize there is just so much about my life he will not understand. He might get frustrated that my "negligence" led to Archer escaping into the bathroom and doing who knows what with Daddy's toothbrush, but what he doesn't know is that that ish happens all day every day, there just aren't enough stains around here to notice (or in my case, I am married to an unobservant man who doesn't always notice the dings in the walls, the fact that we have 2 plates left from a wedding gifted set of 12, avoids the laundry room, and has no idea the amount of crap piled up on my side of the bed).

On my more dramatic days I walk around saying things in my head like "I've died a thousand deaths today" which is probably something I read in an Emily Bronte books back when reading was an actual thing for me. On easier days I just roll my eyes at everything and drink coffee as I hustle about, saving everyone's lives a dozen different ways and tracking their bowel movements.

My husband is my all-time parenting lifeline. There is no way I could survive without Michal's support. He is the actual BEST person I could have ever married-- encouraging me when I have my head in the sand, telling me I'm a great mom when the voice in my head says otherwise, and helping me to function like a real-life grown-up. When he gets home from work, he is there beside me washing dishes, handing out bandaids, rescuing Charlie from being the landing pad from Archer's superhero leaps off the couch. Like all good husbands, he shares my load when he's home by his physical presence and when he's away by praying for us and fighting to stay emotionally connected.

But he also really has no idea what it's like to be the default parent, the one handing out rations of soda crackers and ginger ale by day and then cleaning up their puke covered sheets by night. So really, the toothbrush is the least of my worries especially since he hasn't seen what the boys did last week with a permanent marker in the loft!

A few days ago it felt like I was walking on sand. I couldn't figure out the source of  this awesome new texture on my floor until I saw this empty 5 lb container of sugar sitting on my counter. 

This is just something we will always "agree to disagree" on. It used to be my mission to make Mike understand what being a stay-at-home mom is like. But just like I can't understand what it's like to work in the blazing heat all day, pouring concrete and moving bulldozers around, he will never understand what it's like to take four kids to the pediatrician for a check-up.

There is a huge population of people who totally get me-- other moms! We are all doing our best, poopy toothbrushes and all. If you're husband doesn't understand you, I promise to. I might even have just locked my kids outside and told them to check the garage deep freeze for a snack if they get hungry. I'm pretty sure there is just raw meat in it but if they're lucky they'll find a frozen pizza or half an old popsicle to hold them over.

Cheers to surviving summer!