Sometimes I find myself longing for a time when extended family could be relied upon to lend a hand. Living in close proximity, one would think that my relatives would step in to assist when I’m overwhelmed by my four kids, especially during those early mornings, late nights, and all the tantrums in between. Surely, if they heard the chaos, they would want to help—for my sake and for their own sanity.
However, the reality is that my in-laws can drive me up the wall, and the fantasy of a supportive family unit quickly dissipates. I’m not trying to play the victim here; I can handle a lot as a mother, and I often do. We all know that when it comes to parenting, moms get things done. Yet, I’m exhausted from the expectation to manage everything on my own, despite having been promised a supportive village.
The truth is, while my family lives nearby, their presence feels distant. They make offers to assist, but I take those promises with skepticism. Their lack of follow-through is disheartening and has made me see them as increasingly unreliable. When they say they might take the kids for a weekend, I’ve learned that “maybe” often translates to “unlikely.” With each unfulfilled promise, I’m left disappointed and wary of their intentions.
I don’t want to feel bitter toward my loved ones, but it’s difficult to maintain hope when their offers of help rarely materialize. I understand that life gets busy, but the frequency of excuses—from headaches to forgotten commitments—has left me feeling let down.
I signed up for the challenges of motherhood, and I embrace them wholeheartedly. But the absence of my family’s support stings, not just for me, but for my children as well. They look forward to seeing their relatives through FaceTime, only to be let down when plans fall through. It’s disheartening to have to explain to my kids why their family didn’t show up as promised, leaving them waiting by the door in their coats and shoes.
The disappointment isn’t limited to me. My children are affected too, developing a sense of distrust toward their family’s commitments. While I’m not saying my relatives are bad people, it’s perplexing why they are unwilling to help as I would for them. Despite numerous attempts to secure assistance, I’ve managed just one evening away from the kids—a break that hardly felt like a break, as it started just before bedtime and ended shortly after morning wake-up.
What troubles me is not just my need for alone time, but the realization that my family is missing out on the chance to connect with these wonderful little beings while they are young. I cherish their uniqueness and brilliance, and it’s painful to think that my extended family may not appreciate them in the same way. It feels as though they don’t value these relationships as deeply as I do.
Perhaps the absence of a reliable village is the hand I’ve been dealt, and it’s forcing my family to realize that we still thrive together without outside help. In the end, it may just be enough for us to gather around the table and find joy in our own little world, even if it isn’t what we envisioned.
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In summary, while I grapple with the challenges of motherhood and the disappointment of unfulfilled promises from my extended family, I am reminded that our immediate family can still thrive together without the outside world’s help.