A few weeks ago, I received a text from my sister, who welcomed her third child in February. It read, “Please tell me you have days when everything feels overwhelming. When stepping outside seems like the only way to cope. I just need to hear it from someone else.” I chuckled, even though I knew she was utterly serious. My mind raced with responses like “every single day” and “just this morning” and “on a minute-to-minute basis.”
Let’s face it: parenting is tough. It’s the most challenging thing I’ve ever done. I used to run six miles every morning in sweltering humidity before commuting an hour to my job at a local newspaper. I’ve trained for marathons while pushing a double stroller with a three-year-old and a four-year-old inside. I’ve endured the demands of a difficult boss. Yet, nothing compares to the trials of parenting.
There are countless moments in my day when I feel like giving up and escaping to the Riverwalk in downtown San Antonio, where my husband and I enjoyed life before kids—a life free from panic every time a child wanders too close to the edge of a path, making me imagine jumping into murky waters to save them.
Just last week, while I was moving laundry from the washer to the dryer, my three-year-old twins made their way outside into what is usually a safe backyard. In less than two minutes—yes, just two—I finished my task to discover one twin had returned indoors and the house reeked of gasoline.
“Why does it smell like gasoline?” I asked, half-expecting an answer. The guilty look on my son’s face said it all. I knew he was up to something. His twin soon followed, smelling like a gas station himself. A quick glance outside revealed their father’s gas can, typically stored behind a locked door, sitting on a deck chair. Somehow, in under two minutes, these little rascals had managed to get into it.
They had splashed gasoline everywhere—on the deck, the grass, and themselves. Thankfully, no one in our home smokes, or we could have been in serious trouble. I quickly tossed them into the bath (not part of the morning plan) while the baby wailed downstairs, unhappy to be left alone in his jumper seat. Meanwhile, my husband was outside, hosing down the deck and soaking the grass, fearing the blazing Texas sun would ignite the gasoline.
That morning was one of those moments when I wanted to give up. It felt impossible to stay one step ahead with toddlers. I can’t child-proof every room or keep them away from every potential source of mischief. Honestly, it would take twenty-three of me to do that!
I used to feel guilty for feeling this way. I often found myself wishing for a moment that they weren’t twins, that I didn’t have to juggle two of them all the time, and that they weren’t so endlessly curious and three years old. But over time, I’ve learned an important lesson: just because we have moments of wanting to escape or trade our kids for easier ones doesn’t mean we love them any less.
These little humans can be a mix of joy and chaos on any given day. There are times I want to sit and color with my three-year-olds because they’re playing nicely together, and then there are days when I contemplate offering them up for free on Craigslist. I’d have to embellish the ad, of course—something like “Two charming twins, ages unspecified.” After all, who in their right mind would willingly take two three-year-olds?
Some days, I love to look through old photo albums, recalling how they fought to survive as premature babies, and then there are days when I can hardly connect those memories to their present mischief—like when they decided to explore the toilet with their hands. (Trust me; they’ve been there, done that.)
There are fleeting moments when I’m smothering them with kisses, overwhelmed with love as they giggle, and then moments when I’m holding back their big brother to prevent him from clobbering them for decorating his journal with a permanent marker (which, by the way, can we please stop receiving?).
Parenting is not for the faint of heart. It’s the most significant responsibility we’ll ever face, and there will be many times we feel like giving in. But those moments are part of the journey, shaping us into stronger parents and better people as we deepen our understanding of love.
So, I texted my sister back, “Yes, I feel like that almost every day. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom.” Because it doesn’t.
It’s these moments of tension between wanting to escape and knowing we can’t that strengthen us. They push us to embrace the chaos and love our kids even more deeply. Just when I think I’ve seen it all, my toddler finds an unsecured can of paint, turning our pantry wall into a vibrant masterpiece.
By the time all this is behind me, I’m going to be incredibly resilient!
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Summary
Parenting is a challenging journey filled with moments of chaos and love. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed and consider giving up at times. However, these experiences help us grow as parents and deepen our understanding of love. Remember, feeling this way doesn’t make you a bad parent; it’s part of the process.