Invisible Work

It’s invisible work. The laundry, the dishes, the bath times, the picking up of the toys and returning the books to the shelves. 

My boys will never grow up and thank me for the sacrifices I made in my life to be their mom. They will likely never understand what it took. They’ll never thank me for breastfeeding them, for keeping them clothed (for the most part) and knowing that probably the reason the can’t deal in a particular circumstance is because they’re hungry. It’s invisible work. 

As they grow older they’ll take for granted the home I’ve created for them and the life the Viking and I have built so they can have a happy childhood. We all did as children. Our parents did invisible work too. 

It doesn’t always bother me. But anyone who has struggled with mental Heath issues and/or depression knows that some days you just wake up in a fog and there is nothing you can do about it. You just have to muddle through the day somehow knowing that sleep and a new day are the only things that are going to help. The fog makes everything invisible. 

Is those days where the invisible work is the hardest. Where it all seems futile because they won’t remember it anyway. I wonder why I try so hard and if it even matters. No one sees, no one appreciates, no one even knows. it’s invisible. 

Motherhood is the hardest job I’ve ever worked, for the least amount of recognition and certainly the least amount of pay, and I’m not gonna lie to you, recognition and pay sound pretty nice these days. 

I’m not fishing for compliments here. I don’t need a bunch of comments that I’m a great mom and all that. I guess it’s just a shout out to all the invisible workers out there. You aren’t alone in your feelings, and from what I hear it gets better..?

And maybe consider reaching out to your own mom and thanking her for all the invisible work she did so you could grow up to scroll Instagram for three hours a day. Just kidding. About the Instagram part, not about the calling your mom part.