I’ve picked up the same Paw Patrol toy three times today. I’ve told my 3-year-old to pick up that toy at least 50 times. Usually, I walk him over to the toy and make him pick it up and put it away, but today I was exhausted.
Fresh, clean laundry always appears in my children’s dressers—as if by magic.
Momma magic.
They never question how it got there, but expect it to happen every week.
The dishes are always cleaned and put away. The toys are returned to their cubbies, ready for the kids to find them the next morning. Breakfasts are made, bags are packed, blankets are washed and supplied for nap time.
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Our electricity never gets shut off because the bill always is paid. Trips are meticulously prepared for and planned. There is always food in the fridge and the pantry.
Birthday gifts are wrapped and ready. Same with Christmas, Easter, and Valentine’s. They always have appropriate attire for preschool. Costumes are prepared or purchased for dress-up days.
I do all the things that need to be done to make our lives run smoothly.
All of it is behind the scenes. Secretly and quietly. I ensure their needs are met as every other momma does. No one ever questions it unless it doesn’t happen.
I never hear thank you. I often feel invisible. These expectations are on me and me alone, yet no one notices I am meeting them unless they don’t get done. Then I am noticed.
I forgot to pay my bills at the end of last month. I pay the bills every month. This is usually not acknowledged, but I did hear about it when we had to pay a late fee. It wasn’t unkind, but it was noticed.
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It’s not that they don’t appreciate what I do. I know they enjoy the electricity and the clean laundry and the meals. But it sure would be nice to have my efforts commended. To get a thank you or some sort of acknowledgment.
It would be nice to be visible. To be seen.
But someone has to make sure things keep going. And in my family, that someone is me. I don’t mind taking care of my family. I love my family, and I have always been a doer. So I will press on, working backstage, behind the curtain, allowing my husband and children to waltz on stage and shine in the spotlight in their freshly laundered clothing. Supporting roles are important. Maybe someday I will get a turn on stage.