I’m Exhausted by All These Parenting Guidelines

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It’s Memorial Day weekend, and we’re at the cabin with family—an occasion meant for relaxation and gratitude, a time to remember those who sacrificed for our freedom. My partner has been working nonstop, so we’ve been eagerly anticipating this getaway for weeks. We even got our twin toddlers their first fishing poles and planned an exciting treasure hunt.

And then there’s me—a total bundle of stress. One of my boys just looked at me and said, “Mama’s tired.” Yes, yes, Bennett. Mama is beyond tired. I try to shield my emotional struggles from my kids, but as they grow, they become more astute, and there’s only so much “fake it ’til you make it” I can pull off. I’m realizing that you don’t need a diagnosed mental illness to feel overwhelmed; this world can drive anyone to the brink.

Honestly, it’s exhausting. We’re all out here grinding, trying to raise our children and shield them from the harsh realities of life. But what do you do when the world tells you that you are the problem? That you aren’t careful enough, vigilant enough, or responsible enough?

That was my biggest fear stepping into motherhood. For most of my life, I was resolute that I wouldn’t become a parent because of my own childhood and battles with anxiety and depression. And let me tell you, the current cultural atmosphere certainly doesn’t ease those fears. There are just too many “rules,” and frankly, according to these standards, no one is fit to be a parent.

The night before our trip, I stumbled upon an article about the worst sunscreens for kids—and wouldn’t you know it, the one I just bought was at the top of the list. Great. Do I toss it and waste the $30 we can’t really afford, or do I slather my kids with this supposedly toxic goo because, according to the article, I obviously don’t care about their well-being?

I’m fed up, folks. And it’s not just because my husband is working overtime or because I’m managing twin toddlers who operate on their own chaotic schedule. They exist in what I like to call “Captain Me Planet,” where the laws of physics don’t seem to apply. But hey, no biggie—I’ve got this.

Please, don’t call child protective services. I’m just completely over all the guidelines. Guidelines about food, hygiene, clothing, education, development, medication, sleep methods, playtime, friendships, car seats, breastfeeding, and so much more. You could swap “rules” with other terms like opinions, suggestions, studies, and policies, but the result is the same: I’ve had it.

From the depths of my weariness, I can’t be bothered with your scientific pie charts. It took me a long time to realize that loving my boys and providing for them with the resources I have—without losing my sanity or breaking the bank—is what responsible parenting truly looks like. My mental health struggles aren’t what keep me up at night; instead, I find myself awake, fretting over whether I washed their new clothes before they wore them, thanks to an article warning about toxic chemicals.

Can we just agree that everything is trying to kill us? Life is tough enough as it is. I only want to serve my kids one meal without the nagging voice in my head questioning if it’s secretly a feast of doom. I simply don’t have the time to research the ingredients on every label when I’m juggling a million other things.

I’m not saying that being proactive or caring is wrong. I admire all the parents who are nailing this stuff—you have my utmost respect. I’m just tired. Tired of the constant barrage of expectations. When I tuck my boys in each night, they are the happiest, healthiest little beings I’ve ever known. So far, they’re the best thing I’ve ever done, and I know I’m doing it right, regardless of what the latest parenting trends say.

I wish I could go back to a time when I wasn’t bombarded with daily articles questioning my every decision. My dad runs a facility for trafficked children in Thailand, and just two weeks ago, they took in a 3-year-old who has never spoken and is severely malnourished. Only God knows what she has endured. Meanwhile, we’re here stressing over bedtimes.

Perspective is key.

So, share all the scathing articles and the latest parenting revelations. I’ll pass for now. Life is challenging enough, and I want to cherish every moment with my boys instead. When I see titles like “10 Things You Didn’t Know Were in Your Air” or “Did You Know Opening Your Eyes Could Be Dangerous?” I’m just going to close my laptop and dream about our next camping trip. Because I’m exhausted—really, really tired. And I’d rather live fully each day with my children than worry about every little thing that could go wrong.

Thanks for listening, and goodnight.