Being a stay at home parent is a thankless job and no one wants to feel that unappreciated. In What Happened to the Girl I Married, a man does it for one year and reflects on it. It’s weird because he admits what a jerky observer he had been while his wife stayed home to parent all those years before him. I could not help but wonder why he didn’t want to go out with her at night when he had the opportunity to. Eventually she stopped asking.

My husband and I talk about our “jobs” all the time since I’ve become a SAHM and even more since I’ve read the book. It’s a painful conversation because he doesn’t even know how much of the chores have become my job. He doesn’t want to say that any of them are mine and mine alone for fear of making me too depressed. It’s hard to know who signed up for what when we decided to have children or what it would ultimately feel like.

The woman my husband married had bright eyes that are now dull, especially by 7 PM. If my husband keeps our 3 year old up for an extra 20 minutes I am livid; that is 20 minutes of my life, my time, stolen from me. I thought I would get the weekends off but it’s really awkward and somewhat rude to be standing around watching someone else do it all while you eat a sandwich. (As if I ever take the time to make a sandwich rather than scoop sunflower seed butter out of the jar!)

At the figurative end of the day, I know I am appreciated and it’s not the end of the world not to hear the applause. I can remember who I am without dwelling on who I was. I redefine success as needed and it may include a clean pile of wrinkled laundry that never finds its way to the proper drawer.

So, I blog for a collaboration of moms living in new york city, who may actually be living in a suburb, potentially driving mini-vans. The content is loosely managed by the wives of venture capitalists in Silicon Valley, a mythical place in Cali. So, I decided to start blogging here, just for fun, but it does seem lonely.