It’s Memorial Day weekend, and my family and I are at the cabin, a time meant for relaxation and reflection on those who have fought for our freedom. My partner has been juggling overtime and freelance gigs, so we’ve been eagerly anticipating this trip for weeks. We even bought our twin 2-year-olds their first fishing poles and planned an exciting treasure hunt.
And then there’s me—a swirling mass of exhaustion, feeling like I need a break from reality. One of my boys just looked at me and said, “Mama’s tired.” Yes, Bennett, Mama is indeed quite tired. I try my hardest to shield my emotional struggles from the boys, but as they grow more perceptive, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the facade. I’ve come to understand that it’s not just those with mental health challenges who grapple with these feelings. The pressures of parenting can drive anyone to the brink.
We’re all trying our best to raise our children, to keep them safe and shielded from the harsh realities of the world. Yet, what happens when the world implies that we are the issue? That we aren’t cautious enough, or attentive enough? My greatest fear as I entered motherhood was the notion that I wouldn’t be good enough. For a long time, I was convinced that having children was not meant for me, given my past and struggles with anxiety. The current cultural climate doesn’t help, either. It seems like there are endless rules, and quite frankly, by those standards, no one seems fit to parent.
The night before our trip, I stumbled upon an article about the most harmful sunscreens. Naturally, the one I had just purchased was at the top of the list. Great. Do I toss it and waste $30, which is significant for us, and go find that “perfect” sunscreen made by mythical beings infused with love? Or do I cover my kids in this supposedly toxic cream, risking the label of an uncaring mother? It’s frustrating.
I’m truly drained—it’s not just my husband’s long hours or the chaos of raising twin toddlers who oscillate between 0% and 120% energy. They exist in what I like to call “Captain Me Planet,” where logic doesn’t apply, and they’re zooming around at full speed. But hey, I can handle it, right?
Please, don’t alert Child Protective Services; I’m just overwhelmed by all the do’s and don’ts. Guidelines about food, hygiene, clothing, education, development, medications, sleep methods, playtime, friendships, car seats, breastfeeding, babywearing, television—it’s endless. You can swap the word “rules” with opinions, studies, beliefs, or policies, and the list just keeps growing.
I’m done. From the depths of my weary heart, I wish people would stop bombarding me with scientific findings. I never realized that, despite my anxiety and fears, I might not be the one at fault. Loving my boys and providing for them with the resources available to me, without losing my sanity or breaking the bank, is what responsible parenting looks like.
Being bipolar or on medication isn’t what keeps me awake at night. Instead, I lie awake fretting about whether I washed the boys’ new clothes before they wore them today, due to reading about harmful chemicals they might contain. It seems like everything around us is a potential threat—can we just agree that life is hazardous and move on?
I just want to prepare one meal for my kids without that nagging voice in my head questioning if it’s potentially harmful. I’m not against being proactive or caring; I admire those who excel at it. But I’m exhausted.
Every night, when I tuck my boys in, I see the happiest, healthiest little beings I’ve ever known. They are the greatest achievement of my life, regardless of what the latest parenting trends suggest. Sometimes, I wish I lived in simpler times, free from the barrage of daily articles.
My father runs a facility for trafficked children in Thailand. Recently, they took in a 3-year-old who has never spoken and is severely malnourished. Meanwhile, we’re fretting over bedtime routines. Perspective is key.
So, post all the judgmental articles you want; I’ll pass for now. Life is already challenging. I’ll focus on soaking in every moment with my boys. When I see articles with titles like, “10 Things You Didn’t Know Were in Your Air” or “Did You Know Opening Your Eyes Could Be Dangerous?” I’m shutting my computer and dreaming of our next outdoor adventure instead. Because honestly, I’m exhausted—truly, deeply tired. And I’d rather embrace life with my children than worry about what might harm us.
Summary
This article expresses the overwhelming fatigue of modern parenting amid a plethora of rules and guidelines. The author reflects on the pressures of ensuring children’s safety and well-being while grappling with personal struggles. They emphasize the importance of perspective, recognizing the joys of motherhood over societal expectations. Ultimately, the focus is on cherishing time with family rather than succumbing to endless worries.