I just strolled through my home and let out a sigh – or perhaps a curse word – at least six times. My partner is busy at her full-time job, and my three kids are off at school. Here I am, navigating my house in search of my desk to kick off another day of remote work. Balancing writing, advocacy, and various side projects is no easy feat. The house may be empty, but my responsibilities certainly aren’t.
I sighed again at the stark reminders of how little time I have. With no nearby family to help or bail me out when things get tight, I feel the weight of parental duties. My own family is dysfunctional and absent from my life, while my partner’s family lives far away and is aging. Friends are in similar situations, juggling their own kids and jobs. I can’t help but envy those who have family support to ease the daily grind of parenting.
As I made my way through the chaos, I groaned at the stack of school papers from my oldest daughter that I still haven’t tackled. I stepped around baskets of laundry; one contains clean clothes waiting to be folded, while the other is overflowing with dirty items and miscellaneous clutter that has migrated downstairs. Somehow, a bunch of random things have taken residence alongside underwear in my kitchen.
I rolled my eyes at the endless to-do lists, the sink full of dishes, bills that need paying, and appointments waiting to be kept. I even muttered at the frozen chicken that I forgot to take out earlier for dinner. My family insists on having dinner every night, despite my kids’ complaints about most of the meals I prepare. So here’s hoping that chicken thaws in time, even if they end up turning their noses up at it.
I grumbled about the toys strewn everywhere and the dress-up clothes that look like they were intentionally scattered across the floor as a breadcrumb trail. Scarves, masks, and shields litter the space, creating a maze that I navigate while picking up after the kids, only to realize I’ve just gone in circles.
This cycle of chaos is exhausting. I’m overwhelmed and fatigued, feeling like I’m constantly working on something but never making any real progress. It feels like I’m chasing my own tail, and the idea of taking a break seems impossible.
My partner and I sometimes drift through the house like frustrated roommates, taking our irritation out on each other. She can be short-tempered, and I can turn cranky. We blame the kids, our conflicting schedules, and the lack of quality time together. I hear stories of parents who manage to schedule a date night weekly or even monthly, and I wonder how they do it. Who has that kind of time or money? Can I borrow a grandparent to take care of my kids? It’s been months since my partner and I had a date night; I can’t even recall what we did last time.
Hiring someone to watch our three kids for a few hours can be pricey, so we sometimes swap babysitting with friends. We attempt to connect on weekends, but often our movie nights or Netflix binges get replaced with work, paying bills, or tackling the to-do list. Sorting through bins of summer clothes for the kids isn’t exactly romantic, but if we don’t do it on Saturday night, when will it get done?
Juggling the demands of three energetic children, a full-time job, and trying to nurture a marriage and friendships is a delicate balance. There are moments when I feel like I’m failing at everything, as if I’m not excelling in any area. It’s a heavy burden to carry.
When you never get a break, everything can feel overwhelming. Sure, I could take a day or two for myself, leave the chaos behind, maybe schedule a massage, or enjoy some couch time while the kids are at school. But that idea feels counterproductive. I don’t have the extra funds for massages, and I often find myself irritable because I’m already behind on everything. It’s hard to imagine lounging around would make me feel better.
This is who I am: someone who prefers to keep busy, striving to stay afloat amidst life’s endless responsibilities. I can’t help but feel envious of those who enjoy a two-to-one parent-to-child ratio or those who have family nearby to take care of their kids for a few hours. I crave a night out or a weekend away with friends, free from the guilt of leaving my partner with our three needy children.
Still, I remind myself that this phase is temporary. While I won’t magically have family support, my kids will eventually grow up and require less of my attention. The constant juggling act of managing a busy life with three kids will always exist, but I’ll gradually reclaim some time. I’ll find those much-needed breaks as I can accomplish more without the interruptions of wiping someone’s bottom or cleaning up spilled yogurt. Any break is worth it, and I desperately need one.