There are days when I long for the simpler times when extended families lived within arm’s reach. Perhaps then, someone would step in when my four children are crying, whining, and demanding my attention in the early hours of the morning and throughout the night. If not for my own sanity, then maybe for theirs. But then I remember the way my relatives can drive me up the wall, and that nostalgia for the “good old days” fades as quickly as the offers of assistance I receive.
Let me clarify: I’m not looking for sympathy. I can handle everything that comes my way—I’m a mom, after all, and we all know that moms are relentless. However, I’m running on empty from having to juggle it all when I was promised a supportive village.
The reality is that my “support system” may live nearby, but they are emotionally distant. They frequently extend offers of help (the key word being “offer”), but I’ve learned to take those words with skepticism. Their lack of follow-through stings, and their reliability is dwindling in my eyes.
When offers of assistance come my way, they often begin with a hesitant “maybe.” “Maybe I can watch the kids this weekend if I don’t have other plans.” As a fellow mom, you know what “maybe” usually means. At this point, I simply let those words wash over me with a resigned, “We’ll see when the day arrives.”
I don’t mean to sound bitter or resentful toward my loved ones, but there’s only so often you can hear someone promise help without it materializing before you stop believing them. I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment, which may seem absurd—getting my hopes up for a little time to myself—but it’s true. I have work to do at home, and when my supposed village makes empty promises, rearranging my schedule only to be left disappointed, their words start to lose significance.
I’ve heard all the excuses:
- “My head hurts.”
- “I forgot… I have to do this and that.”
- “I’m SO sorry, but…” [insert any excuse here].
- “I can’t because of… (wait for it)…. MY PETS.”
The pets. I love animals, but please, just admit you’ve changed your mind instead of giving a half-hearted excuse.
I know this is part of the package deal when becoming a mom—being available for my children’s every need, day and night. I wouldn’t trade the joy of motherhood for anything, but the absence of my so-called village is disheartening. It affects not just me, but my children as well.
We often rely on FaceTime to stay connected with family, probably because it’s the only way for the kids to see their relatives regularly. It’s disheartening when family members tell the kids during a video call that they’ll pick them up, only to backtrack at the last minute with one of those many excuses or, even worse, no explanation at all. It’s tough to see my children eagerly waiting by the door, dressed for a family day that never comes.
I’m left grappling not only with my own disillusionment but also with my kids’ growing skepticism. Their attempts to lighten my load often only add to it with their empty words.
I’m not suggesting they’re all bad, but it’s hard to fathom why no one steps up to help in ways I would gladly do for them. It’s frustrating, especially considering that out of all the promises made, I’ve only had one night away from the kids. ONE. And that “break” started just one hour before their bedtime, and I was back to pick them up an hour after they were supposed to wake up. So, it hardly felt like a break at all.
What troubles me more than my lack of alone time is that my family is missing out on these wonderful little beings while they’re still young. They are the most caring, clever kids, and while I know my extended family values them, they don’t seem to cherish them in the same way my family cherished me growing up. It saddens me, but perhaps an unreliable village is exactly what my family needs. Maybe we’ll learn that, even without outside help, we still have everything we need with each other gathered around our table every day.