The invisible work of stay-at-home parenting, small-town life, and why feminism needs to start at home
Tiny Town Tuesday
This morning started at 1AM, 3AM, 5AM and 7AM. Again. The baby needed to nurse and be comforted back to sleep numerous times before sunrise. By the time daylight broke (somewhere behind thick gray rain clouds), I was dreaming of a cup of coffee, trying to remember if I’d fed the dog or just thought about it. It’s been raining HARD all night, and the yard is basically a mud pit. Mud that gets tracked inside by the kids, the dog, and—let’s be honest—me too. I’ve given up on the floors. What’s the point when you mop and ten minutes later there are tiny boot prints and paw prints leading straight to the fridge?
My five-year-old had to be carried to the bus stop because I wouldn't let him sit on the soaking-wet porch and wait. He clung to me the whole way there, minus a coat (he refused to wear). When I got back to the house, baby still asleep (thank god) and dog waiting to be dried off (again), I realized I’d already done more before 8AM than most people do before lunch.
But no one punches your card for this kind of work.
Here in my small Midwestern town, there’s a quiet pride in doing it all. We wave from porches, hold doors open at the post office, and show up for garage sales and band concerts. But underneath the charm and close-knit community lies an uncomfortable silence: the kind that grows when you’re burning out, and no one notices—because you’re “just at home.”
Being a stay-at-home parent is the hardest job I’ve ever had. It’s not just the physical labor (though that’s relentless). It’s the emotional multitasking. The invisible spreadsheets in my head tracking who needs what, when. The constant toggling between “fun mom” and “disciplinarian,” between meal planner, nurse, chauffeur, therapist, and janitor. There is no lunch break. No finish line. And—especially in small towns—there can be very little validation.
That’s where feminism walks in.
Feminism, to me, has never just been about marches or megaphones (though I love both). It’s about value. And we have to start valuing the work that happens inside homes. Feminism means re-centering the conversation so that unpaid labor—especially care work, mostly done by women—is acknowledged, supported, and honored.
Because here’s the truth: staying home is a privilege, but it’s also a pressure cooker. And when we romanticize it without recognizing the mental load, the lack of boundaries, and the cultural expectation to be endlessly selfless—we’re not being honest. Or fair.
I’m raising kids who I hope will understand that worth isn’t tied to productivity. That real work sometimes looks like managing chaos in sweatpants. That strength can sound like a whisper of “you’ve got this” to yourself over a sink full of dishes.
So if you’re feeling like what you do doesn’t “count,” let me say this:
It does. You do. And you don’t need a punch card to prove it.
👩👧 Let’s talk about it:
What’s one invisible task you do every day that never gets noticed—but keeps your family running? Drop it in the comments or DM me. Let’s make the unseen seen.
#SmallTownStrong #ModernMotherhood #FeministAtHome #PeoniesAndPopsicles #UnpaidLaborIsWork #MentalLoadMatters
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