Some days, it feels like I’m barely holding on. The noise level escalates, leading to arguments and tears, followed by more shouting and additional tears. In these moments, I find myself silently pleading for a moment of peace. As I gaze upward, mouthing the Serenity Prayer, my children shoot me skeptical glances, probably questioning my sanity.
These chaotic days are filled with desperate pleas. I urge my kids to focus on their schoolwork so that I can tackle my own responsibilities. I beg them to stop bickering and simply enjoy each other’s company. After weeks of constant sibling interaction, big brother Jake has reached his limit, while little sister Emma is gearing up for her next round of hide-and-seek—her 5,000th, to be exact.
I wear two hats each day: full-time employee and full-time teacher. After a conference call, I instantly switch gears into educator mode for Jake, following the guidelines of his IEP. I prepare his materials, create step-by-step instructions, and allow for breaks as his teacher would. I’m grateful for my past experience as a speech therapist, which helps me navigate the unique challenges of his learning needs.
Then, I rush into the other room to help Emma with her online learning. Is her assignment in OneNote or Teams? Why is it always so hard to find the worksheets? Did I catch those updated emails from earlier? What’s her password again? My work emails are piling up, but I have no time to address them.
By 1:00 p.m., I retreat to my makeshift “office” to lead therapeutic sessions for the next two hours. My kids know better than to disturb me during this time, but I often find notes slipped under the door: “Can I use my iPad? I’m hungry! Emma is bothering me! Jake won’t play with me!”
In moments like these, I’m torn between the needs of my clients and those of my children. It feels like I’m juggling the demands of two different worlds within one person. Like many parents, I’m both physically and emotionally drained. The thought of what summer might bring is daunting.
Yet, I find a strange sense of comfort in the chaos. It’s not due to my background in mental health or therapeutic strategies; it’s because this overwhelming situation mirrors my life before the pandemic. I was already fatigued, overwhelmed, and stretched thin. The dual role of supermom and super employee was my everyday reality.
What’s perplexing is how little my current emotional state differs from my regular life. I’ve always been on the go, juggling breakfast prep, laundry, and school bags, all before heading to work. I’ve raced between activities, managed homework, and fielded calls—all while maintaining a mental checklist of tasks to complete.
Even with the support of my husband, I’ve neglected my own well-being. When did I start expecting myself to be superhuman? This pressure crept in slowly, and I suspect I’m not alone in feeling this way. The demands of family life can be overwhelming, and the to-do list never seems to end.
If there’s a lesson to be learned from this experience, it’s that I need to prioritize my own needs more often—not just with a quick pampering session but with real lifestyle changes. It’s time to recognize that I’m not superwoman; I’m just me.
For further insights on managing the challenges of parenting during these times, check out this blog post. Additionally, if you’re looking for resources on fertility, Make A Mom offers helpful information. For more guidance on pregnancy and home insemination, the CDC is an excellent resource.
Summary
The pandemic has intensified the exhaustion many parents already felt, with the dual responsibilities of work and home life creating an overwhelming environment. The author reflects on the challenges of balancing these roles and recognizes the need for self-care amid chaos.
Keyphrase: pandemic parenting exhaustion
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