When you're a stay at home parent and your spouse comes home and asks "what did you do today", I don't think they realize the magnitude of that particular question.  Better yet, you go to a fantastic dinner party, looking all fabulous and someone comes up to you and asks "what do you do?" Grrrrr
Do you want the detailed version or the usual generic. In fact, yesterday, I didn't even have time to sit down except for when I folded clothes.  I went to dance class, came home, vacuumed the whole house, had lunch, went grocery shopping, did dishes, then went to back to school night, came home, grabbed some cold pizza and sexed up my husband.  I'm sure there were a few more details I may have left out, like homework with the kids or the usual after school unlicensed therapy, but you get the gist. Really what does it matter what I do or did, the question should be, "did you have a good day?" or "did you enjoy it?"...always.
We do so much on a daily basis that it's unimaginable to remember it all unless we write EVERYTHING down.  But why, for our own self acknowledgement to let someone else know what we are actually doing.  We do it because we love it and we chose to do this "job".
Just like it takes a special kind of person to teach or care for the elderly, it takes a special kind of person to be a stay at home parent.  To be yelled at, pooped on, have vomit in your hair, and still get up every morning with absolutely no expectations and do it all over again.
Sometimes I wonder about the "special"part, because there is a bit of insanity at play with this monotonous chaos that ensues on a daily basis and a little deranged irritability that could render a novice into a debilitated state.  The lack of sleep, the noise, the psychological warfare, and incessant cleaning of all forms of bodily fluid. It sounds a bit like Apocalypse Now of course without the Napalm in the morning, but it is just another day home with the kids.
On the flip side, you get so much love that it can knock you over at times, literally. The swell in your heart that you are making a difference when your child does decide to share their cookies at the park or their other toys.  You've done good.  Raising kids is definitely not a sprint, but a marathon and definitely not for the faint of heart.  I've always told people you couldn't pay me enough to run a marathon, but this marathon is beyond priceless.