Last week was one of those never-ending, exhausting stretches. It marked the first week back after the holiday break, and let me tell you, everyone’s sleep schedule was completely thrown off. We were all recovering from colds, and to top it off, our kitchen sink decided to start leaking. As I returned to work, I was met with an overwhelming pile of tasks, emails to respond to, and worries swirling in my mind.
By the time Friday evening arrived, I was completely spent. As I settled into bed, trying to keep my eyes open during my nightly binge of TV shows, I began to daydream about the weekend ahead. I envisioned catching up on my favorite series, diving into engaging books, enjoying quality time with my kids, and relishing in the sweet embrace of relaxation.
But then came Saturday morning, and like clockwork, the moment I allowed myself to rest and shake off the workweek, I was confronted with the weight of home responsibilities. And wow, did it feel like a ton of bricks.
During the week, I hardly have time to clean, so Saturday mornings become my designated cleaning marathon. In theory, I don’t mind tidying up. I send my family out for a bit while I tackle the housework, which makes it feel a bit like “me time.” My home is small, so I can usually finish up in under two hours. My logic is that if I get it done early, the rest of the weekend is free for enjoyment.
But that’s just not true.
Cleaning doesn’t feel like “me time” at all. Plus, I forget that, alongside my Saturday cleaning binge, I also need to help with laundry (my partner pitches in, but I assist), pick up groceries (we do online shopping, but still have to grab a million little items), and ensure the kids complete their homework, bathe, and do their chores.
The illusion that weekends will magically dissolve all stress and anxiety is just that—an illusion. Instead, I find that my fatigue and tension transform into something entirely different: ANGER.
Yep, weekends often leave me feeling irritable. I get frustrated with everyone and everything around me, and sometimes it spirals out of control.
Last Saturday was particularly rough. I ended up yelling at my eight-year-old for neglecting to put his bathrobe in the laundry and lost my cool with my teenage son for leaving a dirty plate on his bedside table. My partner, clearly intimidated, retreated to the bedroom to listen to music and fold laundry.
I’m not usually one to yell, so when I exploded over the bathrobe incident, my little one was taken aback, crumpling to the floor in tears. He’s always been so honest about his feelings, and it hit me hard when he said, “You scared me when you yelled. Why are you so mad?”
Why was I so mad? His innocent question brought me down to his level, and I sat beside him, tears welling in my eyes. “I don’t want to be mad,” I confessed. “But there’s just so much on my plate, and it’s overwhelming.”
The truth is, my anger and frustration run deep. Raising two kids while both my partner and I work full-time can be daunting. We can’t afford childcare, so we constantly switch off parenting duties. We don’t have the budget for a cleaner or a babysitter, so everything falls on us.
My partner is great and has been taking on more chores, which is a relief. But still, a lot of the planning and organization rests on my shoulders, leading to a significant mental load. I manage our weekends—how to balance chores, social plans, and downtime.
Adding to the mix is my perfectionist streak. I struggle to let my home stay messy, work to slide, or relinquish my role as the family organizer. I’m terrible at asking for help—just awful.
So, I bottle up the overwhelm and resentment until it explodes on Saturday mornings. I hate it. My family hates it. It’s not healthy for any of us.
I’m actively working on making changes. I’m exploring the possibility of hiring a cleaner once a month to lighten the load (and overcoming my pride about it). I’m discussing my feelings with my therapist, and my partner and I are in ongoing conversations about distributing household responsibilities and mental burdens more fairly.
Overall, acknowledging my anger has been beneficial (thanks to my wise eight-year-old). I’m becoming more aware of this pattern and recognizing it’s not how I want to feel or express myself—especially on Saturday mornings.
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Summary
Saturday mornings often trigger overwhelming feelings of frustration for many parents, as the shift from work to home responsibilities can lead to feelings of anger. Acknowledging these emotions, seeking help, and finding ways to share the mental load can make weekends more enjoyable.