Minutiae

Every so often I read a little article or blog about how hard moms work, describing in detail the stains on clothes, Cheerios in couch cushions, LEGOS on the floor, etc. Before I had kids, I think these articles made me subconsciously uneasy at the prospect of motherhood. Since kids, it’s strange to say that I’ve caught myself thinking, “Oh, quit griping—mothers aren’t the only ones who work hard.” In fact, everyone I know works hard, parents or not. It is an understatement to say they work hard.
    But I do it too. I chronicle the minutiae of child-rearing—the clothing stains, Cheerios, LEGOS, and so very much more. And I know it sounds like I’m griping, and on one level I am, but that isn’t really the reason for it. And it isn’t even about bragging, although I’m doing a little of that too. It’s that there’s no other way to convey to you what I did all day.
    Other jobs have quantifiable tasks associated with them. You’re a student? You can say: “I wrote a 40-page paper.” A sales rep: “I made 30 calls today.” An artist: “Look, I painted that.” And we’re duly impressed. We understand the time-consuming nature of these activities.
    The fact is, when I’m home with the kids all day, I feel suspicious that no one will ever know how busy I was. Anders does know, but it’s easy to believe that he won’t unless I tell him, and telling him involves chronicling the minutiae. If I say “today we baked cookies,” that doesn’t come anywhere close to explaining why it took three hours or why he should be so, so impressed that the kitchen at this moment is relatively clean.
    Being with kids is about minutiae—minutiae on top of minutiae. It’s putting a pacifier into a baby’s mouth, over, and over, and over. Wiping a runny nose a thousand times, repeating the same phrases, singing the same songs, cleaning the same messes.
    These words seem like complaining, but they’re not. At the end of the day, my ears are full of the sound of my children’s voices; I close my eyes and see their pink plump cheeks; I smell the fragrance of my baby’s wonderful milky breath, and I feel as rich and blessed as any woman that ever walked the earth.
    I’m just telling you that sometimes the house is messy, and the art project we started two weeks ago is still sitting on the table, and there’s so much that hasn’t been done, that it may look like nothing was done at all. So let me chronicle the minutiae now and then. It adds up to a very full day.