I recently got back into one of my favourite TV shows, Mad Men, a series set in the 1960's surrounding the happenings in a New York advertising agency. The first episode of Season 5 shows two gentlemen, Pete Campbell (an advertising executive) and Howard (an insurance broker) travelling to work on a train. Pete is a new father, and a conversation ensues about the impact babies have had on their spouses– and their relationship with said spouses. Both men express a mutual understanding of waiting for their wives to ‘get back to their usual self’, empathising with one another about how there was a time when Pete’s wife ‘wouldn’t leave the house in a robe’, and culminating in an ultimate agreement on how difficult it is to be a working man. Howard confides in his comrade an instance when he had to resort to not only coming home late (as had become the norm) but going so far as spending the night at a motel ‘to think’, while continuing to contend with his wife questioning him on ‘What do you do at work all day?’. Pete responds with a sympathetic nod and the reassurance that 'They don't understand.'

This scene got me thinking, and I came to the conclusion that as badly as I think I am doing at being a wife, I would absolutely have failed as a 1960’s housewife. And if Pete Campbell had been my husband, there would have been a lot more things to complain about. For one, since having children one of the only things I have managed to perfect is my ability to go from zero to crazy in less than ten seconds– sometimes less. As for dressing in public, it is an achievement simply ensuring that my extremities are reasonably covered. The great thing about having triplets, however, is that I can leave the house wearing Hubby’s tracksuit, covered in stickers and texta markings, hair in a bird’s nest formation and pulled back in an offspring’s headband, mismatched socks and an oversized backpack for a handbag and STILL get applauded for simply having left the house. I am in absolute awe of mothers who actually look like human beings when they are out and about. Their hair brushed, lips glossed, the familiar jingle of accessories which they have actually picked out to match their outfit, perfume that obviously did not come from of a Disney Princess bottle, and recently purchased pants that no longer possess the familiar comforts of a maternity stretch waistband. As for me, compliments such as “wow, your hair looks good- did you cut it?” are not so complimentary when the answer is simply, “no, I just washed it.”

What struck me most about the Mad Men scene was the familiarity of the last words spoken and the complete turnaround in the way they are used today. All too often, my mother’s friends get asked by their partners, 'what do you DO all day?' and we marvel at the audacity of such a question. Despite the stay-at-home parent cliché of days filled with daytime TV and manicures, the label is quite inaccurate as the thing we do least of all is stay at home. Most conversations I have with mothers are fleeting instances in between catering to our offspring’s multitude of activities and tending to household duties that prevent the house from looking like it has been taken over by a herd of buffalo.

Some partners have certain expectations as to what they should come home to, after sacrificing many hours away from the family to earn a crust– which is indeed, a hard role to be in. They might expect a hot meal, a tidy house, children who have been bathed and dressed, ready for some enjoyable quality time with the other parent. Thankfully, despite my shortcomings in wifely duties, another perk of having triplets is that Hubby has never asked me what I do all day. Either he is very accepting of the standards I have set, or too frightened to complain. The one certainty is our mutual understanding that that just surviving the day is an achievement.

Most days, he comes home from work and walks right into Cyclone Triplets. As communication can sometimes be difficult at that point, he has been trained to look out for certain clues about how the days gone. For example, if I have managed to answer the door after having lifted myself up from my foetal position and am standing on both legs, that is a good sign. If the house is in one piece with no new dents and adequate clearings on the floor where feet can be placed to get from one room to another, that is an excellent sign. If I am wearing clothes different to ones I woke up in, that is an extraordinary sign. If, after putting the kids to bed, I offer to prepare dinner for him -which basically involves pouring yoghurt, nuts and honey into a bowl– that is a sign of a great day. The sign of an amazing day is if I also stir it a little prior to serving.

Some failures in wifely duties are out of my control. For example, the responsibility of a caring and attentive wife probably involves asking Hubby how his day was- in the short window between debriefing him in extreme and exaggerated detail on the absurdities and intricacies of the day and passing out on the couch. The standard for household tidiness is directly related to the kids’ responsiveness to be herded into designated areas to allow for cleaning activities to ensue, and then their adherence to respecting the aforementioned activities and agreeing not to laugh in the face of them and disperse in a path of degradation only moments after their completion. What do I do all day? No... Hubby has said he would love to be a stay-at-home Dad, and he may have hinted he would do a better job than me, but he has never asked me that. Because if he ever did, this is how the conversation would go (based on real events):

Hubby: Hi, Sweety. Good to see you. You look great.
Me: Hi babe. Thanks. I’m wearing one of my own t-shirts today. And I think I remembered to brush my teeth this morning. How was your day?
Hubby: Oh, tough day today. Had lots of meetings.
Me: Oh, right. That’s too bad.
Hubby: (sigh) Yeah.
Me: So... you had a fair few conversations today, then?
Hubby: Yes...
Me: With adults? About adult things?
Hubby: Well, yes...
Me: That’s good at least. I hope to do that too one of these days.
Hubby: I’m an adult.
Me: (silent stare)
Hubby: The clients were asking all these questions which we just spent a week writing a report about, and they obviously either didn’t read it or disregarded it. So many absurd questions! So frustrating!
Me: Really? Did you have to answer a question about “why does everyone have a bottom?”
Hubby: What? No...
Me: I did.
Hubby: Kids are so funny. What else did they ask?
Me: Irini wanted to know if people can sneeze on other planets.
Hubby: Well, can they?
Me: I said they’d probably be dead if they tried to take a breath on another planet.
Hubby: Not if they are wearing a space suit.
Me: That’s what she said.
Hubby: Smart girl. Takes after me.
Me: Of course. Then she wanted to know “why does sound always come to my ears?”
Hubby: What did you say?
Me: I showed them a diagram of the ear on the computer.
Hubby: And?
Me: And they went off at me because they have an ear drum in their ear and they can’t play it and also that it does not look like a drum and it should not be called a drum if it doesn’t look like one.
Hubby: That’s true.
Me: Then they started naming all different animals and wanted to look at the diagrams of their ears.
Hubby: Excellent.
Me: And then Evangelia asked, “What happens when rhinos run?”
Hubby: What happens?
Me: I had no idea. It took me about five minutes to decipher what she was asking me about. Was I to explain about gravity, or the way the muscles work together with the skeleton to make the body move...? Finally, she got tired of me not giving her the answer she wanted and she told me what happens.
Hubby: What?
Me: Dust comes up.
Hubby: It does.
Me: Yes. Then Irini got angry with me and wanted to know, “why do mummies and daddies have special powers that make things difficult for little kids?”
Hubby: Like what?
Me: She couldn’t do up the buttons on her coat.
Hubby: But we didn’t put the buttons on it.
Me: Yes, but we bought the coat. And I gave it to her to put on.
Hubby: Indeed.
Me: Then she wanted to know “why does everything have switches to turn things on and off all the time?”
Hubby: She couldn’t reach the light switch?
Me: Yes. Then Evangelia wanted to know “what happens when the sky is alive?”
Hubby: What does that mean?
Me: I don’t know. But apparently, it rains.
Hubby: Of course. So what about Katerina, she didn’t have any questions?
Me: Not really, I did spend the whole morning consoling her, though.
Hubby: Why?
Me: Well, first I found her on the trampoline, crying on the top of her lungs.
Hubby: Was she hurt?
Me: No. She was upset that she can’t fly.
Hubby: Right...
Me: She was heartbroken actually. She’d been practising for ages and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t stay in the air. She really, really wants to fly.
Hubby: That’s a tough one.
Me: Then she was upset that she ‘never ever can see a real fairy’, even though she made an amazing fairy house for her to live in. And then there was about a ten minute rant about how unfair it is that her toys are not alive and they don’t talk.
Hubby: Those kids’ movies come back to bite you in the ass.
Me: Yep. Anyway, tell me more about your day.
Hubby: Well, I had coffee with Marcus today...
Me: Coffee?
Hubby: Yes.
Me: Was it hot?
Hubby: Yes.
Me: Did it have any blobs of glue in it?
Hubby: Glue?? No.
Me: How about glitter?
Hubby: No.
Me: Pencil shavings?
Hubby: No. Just plain coffee.
Me: So you had a hot cup of coffee, free of glue, glitter AND pencil shavings today?
Hubby: Yes... well I had three coffees, but the barista did get my order wrong on the third one and gave me a skim latte instead of regular.
Me: That’s tough.
Hubby: Oh, and I had lunch with Evan.
Me: You did?
Hubby: Yes.
Me: Did you eat sitting down?
Hubby: Well, yes.
Me: Did your food come on a ceramic plate?
Hubby: I believe so.
Me: And did it consist of half-eaten sandwiches, mostly made up of left over crusts with slight remnants of peanut butter that may or may not have already been attempted to be licked clean?
Hubby: No, you know I don’t eat peanut butter.
Me: Oh right, yes.
Hubby: And then I had back-to-back meetings the rest of the day. All day listening to the same thing over and over again, answering the same questions, it’s exhausting.
Me: Can’t imagine.
Hubby: Then the last meeting was the worst. We spent an hour just trying to protest the claims that the safety standards we proposed were not necessary and attempting to convince them that the ramifications of their non-compliance could be potentially disastrous.
Me: Wow. That is frustrating.
Hubby: Tell me about it. There were tempers flaring all over the place.
Me: Did anyone throw a tantrum?
Hubby: Sorry?
Me: In the meeting. Did anyone just throw themself on the floor or the table, flail their arms about and bang their head on the surface of choice, screaming for everyone to listen to them and their point of view?
Hubby: No...
Me: Did anyone threaten you?
Hubby: What?
Me: Like, did anyone say things like “if you don’t give me that document, then I’m not going to be part of your company any more and I’m going to take all the papers and pens away so no one can write up any documents any more ever again and also you will all go in Time Out for not listening?
Hubby: We don’t have Time Out.
Me: Then how do you deal with misbehaviour?
Hubby: Passive aggressive e-mails.
Me: Oh.
Hubby: Anyway... glad today’s work is over and I get to come home and spend time with my family. What’s for dinner?
Me: Toasted cheese sandwiches. Or scrambled eggs. You choose.
Hubby: Oh. You didn’t cook?
Me: No. I didn’t have time.
Hubby: What did you do all day?
Me: What did I DO all day?
Hubby: Yes.
Me: Well, let’s see. After you left for work, I had a whole morning of answering questions and dealing with requests and disputes, like “Mum! Katerina put her smelly foot in my eye and tripped me over. Go and tell her that's not fair!” Then I had to try and implement some crowd control tactics by saying things like “Stop acting silly!” and “Don’t hit your sister!” which were refuted with responses like “I'm not acting silly, I'm just singing a huge annoying song!” and “I didn't hit my sister. The plate hit my sister.” In the meantime I did two loads of washing, fed them breakfast and organised their toy room.
Hubby: That’s very efficient.
Me: I know. At about 11am, Evangelia got the idea that they were going on a big adventure and then started to pack things in several different bags, proclaiming “I’m so excited to go on a big adventure and see the world!” She was so excited, kept saying it over and over again. Then Katerina caught wind of it and started packing things too, asking what things we would need when we go to the desert. I packed some water and prepared a picnic lunch and she was super happy. But then I had to deal with her complaining that “we don’t have a camel, that we are not going to the real desert” and when I explained that the desert was really far away and we’d have to catch a plane which takes a lot of money and organisation she began this chorus of “please, please can we go to the real desert on a plane today” as if it’s a simple task, and then she demanded that if we weren’t going on a real plane then I need to at least make a plane from cardboard that’d fit them all in.
Hubby: Did you make one?
Me: Not this time.  I said I couldn’t because I didn’t have a box big enough, and then she complained to her sisters that I was upsetting her and tricking her and they both told me off, instructing me not to upset and trick their sister.
Hubby: You should’ve gone to Bunnings and got a box.
Me: I considered it. Then Irini joined in the preparation by packing dresses, toys and pyjamas into her carry-on luggage bag, so that they could “sleep on their big adventure.” She also asked me to pack a tent.
Hubby: Did you pack one?
Me: No, because I thought they were just going to go to the back yard to ‘explore’ like they usually do, and then have their lunch on the trampoline, but before I knew it, they were calling out to me from the front gate. They were on a mission. They had even put the lead on the dog. So I left everything and took them for a walk to the park. They were so excited, talking about all the wonderful things they were going to see and I thought, ‘great!’ But, halfway there, things started to take a turn. They began to recognise the route and realised we were going to the park. Irini started complaining that I did not pack a tent and Evangelia complained that this was not a big adventure at all and she thought we were going to go to the zoo and see the world. When we got to the park, she was in tears. I could not fathom taking them all the way there, and them being upset about going to a park. I assumed that they understood we were all PRETENDING to go on an adventure.
Hubby: But they didn’t.
Me: Nope. Then Irini found three skateboards, left behind by someone. They each claimed one and began to play with them.
Hubby: They were skating?
Me: No, they were mostly taking them up to the top of the slide and then watching them roll down. Oh, then they all needed to do a wee, and I realised mid-stream of the third child that I had completely misjudged the trajectory of the hover and she had weed all over my brand new sneakers... and I hadn’t brought any wipes with me.
Hubby: That’s terrible.
Me: After about an hour of pushing them on the swings and lifting them up onto things, I told them it was time to go home. Irini insisted that we take the skateboards home. I told her that we can’t take them home because they don’t belong to us and some other kids might be looking for them. She didn’t accept that. So I told her that they might be dirty and we don’t know if anyone has done a wee on them. She put the skateboard down, giving me the dirtiest look ever. Then, as we started walking home, I realised that she had purposely left her hat behind and refused to pick it up. When I demanded she pick it up, she got upset with me.
Hubby: Why?
Me: Because she really, really wanted to leave something behind so that another mother could tell their child not to pick it up in case there is wee on it.
Hubby: That’s pretty funny.
Me: Yeah. Hilarious. While I tried to contend with that, Evangelia was hiding in the bushes, crying, while still holding on to all her bags, loudly disowning me for never ever taking her on a real adventure. I had to drag her out of there. Then, she spotted a cat and immediately stopped crying. “Oh! Cat!!” she said, and I thought, ‘thank God’. But as soon as she said it, the dog saw the cat and ran for it, and in the shemozzle I let go of his leash and he jumped for it, and then Evangelia was back to hysterical, scared our dog was going to eat this poor cat. By this stage I was hungry and tired and basically like, “Right, I’m walking home. Anyone who wants to join me is welcome.” I had one angry kid, one hysterical kid and one kid skipping along with no cares in the world.
Hubby: Well at least one of them was happy.
Me: Yeah...Then, we got to that little nature strip that leads to the fenced off creek, and they were like “Oh! A spooky forest!” and I was thinking ‘excellent, maybe this can count as an adventure.’ So we walked around there, they picked some berries and some flowers, but then they wanted to go through the gate and “find a bear that is hiding in the trees” because apparently I “never ever let them find a real bear.” I told them that they couldn’t go through the fence because it was locked, but then Irini pointed out that she could easily fit through the gap and it was “only locked because it is blocking off a driveway so cars can’t go in.”
Hubby: She could be right.
Me: Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to go in and find out. I finally convinced them to leave the ‘forest’, they were still angry with me that I didn’t let them find a bear, and Evangelia went back to her ranting that I did not let them go on a big adventure and she said that Katerina WAS right after all and I WAS tricking them. And she also said that I am not smart and not clever and not a good mummy and she wants me to stay old forever and next time she is going to scream really loudly in my ear and break my eardrum.
Hubby: Well, you shouldn’t have taught them about the ear.
Me: Yes, you’re right.
Hubby: By the way, what’s that smell?
Me: Oh, that. When we were about two minutes away from home, the dog rolled around in some rubbish that turned out to be road kill. Of course right after that, the kids decided to rumble him so I had to bath them. I left the dog for you.
Hubby: Well, they seem to be in a good mood now.
Me: Yes, well, I found some pizza bases in the freezer and made them cheese pizzas and let them watch Frozen for the second time today. Apparently this is ‘the best day ever.’
Hubby: So, you didn’t have time to make dinner while the kids watched Frozen for the second time?
Me: (silent stare) Ok... I’m giving you a five second head start. Run.

Born in Skopje, Macedonia, Daniela Ifandoudas is a high school teacher and mother of triplet daughters living in Sydney Australia. When not preoccupied with crowd control, chauffeur duties and keeping up with her offspring’s ridiculously busy social schedule, she makes time to write and spend time with her loving husband Peter... mostly strategising over the best way to tackle crowd control, chauffeur duties and offspring’s social schedule.