My kids are definitely stretching my brain to its limits. I’m not referring to that tired old notion of “mommy brain,” which is often dismissed as mere fatigue from sleepless nights with little ones. My kids are older now, well past the age where I can expect a mental fog to be my only excuse. They are capable, semi-reasonable beings who, in theory, should need less of my constant attention. So, why do I still feel like my brain is in a blender?
Every day presents a fresh challenge in articulating even the simplest thoughts. The other morning, as we were racing to leave for a family obligation, I uttered, “Where’s my…uh, bag? The leather…that bag I put my things in. Ugh! Where is it? I left it right here on the…where we eat. Gah!”
Purse. Table. Basic English. Am I losing my mind? No, I cast the blame firmly on my children and the chaos of parenting. That fragmented sentence emerged amid a barrage of other frantic thoughts: reminders to get shoes on, questioning whether my 7-year-old had “gone to the bathroom,” and yelling at my 11-year-old for leaving the milk out again. Seriously, how many times do we have to go over this? And why are the upstairs lights still on?!
This is just a snapshot. Increasingly, I find myself resenting how much of my mental energy is consumed by managing children—whether it’s giving them reminders, helping with homework, or planning activities. I was aware that parenthood would demand sacrifices, but there are elements of parenting that are hard to grasp until you’re knee-deep in the whirlwind.
I never anticipated spending 30 minutes untangling a shoelace, getting interrupted from work because someone wedged their head under the couch, or having to halt everything because an entire roll of toilet paper mysteriously ended up in a toilet full of, well, you know.
The constant barrage of sounds from my kids is another factor—singing, humming, banging, yodeling… it’s a cacophony. How can one think with all that noise? I miss the days of having uninterrupted thoughts. I long for the time when I could engage deeply with an idea or a subject, and have the mental space to analyze it.
These days, I’d be grateful for any moment of clear thinking. As soon as I settle into a thought, I hear a dispute brewing, a crash, or a cry. Just like that, I’m pulled back into the chaos.
Recently, I asked my partner how anyone could possibly manage more than two kids. I confessed that I’d lose my mind if we had to deal with more. He reminded me to cherish these moments, as one day, the quiet will feel heavier than the noise ever did. That’s nice to hear, but right now, my brain is so stretched thin that I find it hard to appreciate anything beyond the chaos.
So, until that day filled with blessed silence arrives, I’ll keep fighting the good fight. I’ll carve out moments of stillness, keep my office door locked, and gently shoo my kids away when I really need to focus. At least, until the next time someone finds a way to get their head stuck under the couch.
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In summary, motherhood is a wild ride that stretches mental capacity to its limits. While it can be overwhelming, it’s also a time filled with precious chaos that one day we may miss. Until then, we’ll keep navigating this intricate balance of parenting and self-care.