A clear illustration of the mental burden I carry as a mother can be seen from a recent experience. I was away for a work retreat for two and a half days. With three kids, our weekends are often packed with activities and obligations. While my partner, Tom, is more than capable of managing the kids and their schedules, he doesn’t have the mental blueprint that I do. That’s why, after 15 years of parenting together, I always leave him a detailed itinerary.
Tom doesn’t remember that our youngest daughter’s soccer jersey is freshly washed and sitting in the dryer. He isn’t aware of the arrangements needed for our middle child’s ride, and if family C can’t assist, then who should we reach out to next? He’s not contemplating how our oldest daughter will return from her volleyball party or that she needs to bring brownies and some cash for the pizza and gifts.
This isn’t due to a lack of capability or concern on his part. It’s simply that the intricate details of our family life reside in my mind, not his. When I ask for his help, he responds, albeit not always in the manner or timeframe I envision. He’s helpful when needed, but he’s also juggling his own mental checklist, which often doesn’t align with our household’s demands.
Moreover, I often feel a sense of emotional strain when I need to ask for assistance. It can feel urgent to me, leading to a nagging inner dialogue that questions why I have to remind him—shouldn’t he just know what needs to be done? These issues create a tension that has become a common topic of discussion, both between us and widely on social media.
If I hadn’t provided him with a schedule, the weekend would likely have proceeded with some hiccups. While some things would have gone smoothly, there would have been added stress for both him and the kids. More importantly, if I hadn’t laid out the details, I would have been anxious about everything going smoothly, worrying over what Tom might miss—like soccer gear, party rides, and other essentials. Leaving behind a schedule is my way of lightening my mental load, even if just for a short while.
To prepare for my time away, I tackled a mountain of tasks: laundry, grocery shopping, paying bills, and even baking brownies for my daughter’s volleyball gathering. Yet, even with this preparation and confidence in Tom’s ability to manage, my mind was already racing ahead to the following week, thinking about dog medications, dentist appointments, soccer snacks, Halloween costumes, and trick-or-treat plans.
Am I venting? A bit, yes. It’s all part of what contributes to my anxiety and fatigue. I’m slowly coming to terms with the invisible labor that so many women shoulder—the emotional weight of managing not just tasks, but also the feelings of those around us: children, partners, and parents. I find myself questioning how to shift this dynamic and whether the responsibility really is as gendered as it appears.
I also ponder what would happen if I simply stopped attending to every detail. Would my family adapt? They would probably figure out meals, navigate transportation, and even handle their own activities eventually. Would they manage hair appointments, or would they ask Tom for help? Eventually, yes. But if they didn’t? The world would keep turning regardless.
The pressing question for me is: what would it take to redefine my mental load? Who or what has assigned me this work? Is it societal expectations, my own tendencies, or the structures we live within? How do I learn to let go of the anxiety surrounding emotional discomfort—mine and that of my family?
During my retreat, I had hoped for a moment of clarity, free from the weight of my usual responsibilities. While I enjoyed the company of inspiring women and learned new phrases, I didn’t experience any major revelations. That’s okay, though. Some complexities require time and patience to untangle rather than a quick fix.
Upon returning home, I found the kids had eaten, the older ones were tackling homework, and the youngest was winding down for bed. The house was in its typical, cozy messiness, with the dishwasher needing to be loaded and stray dog food scattered around. And the schedule I had left? It was likely followed and then tossed away. As I settled into my bed, I enjoyed a brief respite of peace, drifting into a blissfully carefree sleep, free from schedules and lists, at least for one night.