Motherhood... Not a Walk in the Park

It's Mother's Day this Sunday, but recently, I've been struggling with my role as a mum. Not even as a stay-at-home-mum, but just being a mother. The kids have been testing my patience endlessly, and there is no joy in my everyday routine anymore, even though I get some precious me-time in the mornings when the kids are in school. Every day seems to be a never-ending cycle of me waking up with the best of intentions to be a loving and patient mum, then going to bed feeling totally defeated after yelling at the kids for the umpteenth time.

I tell myself that this is just a phase, that the twins are just not used to doing extra learning with me, that N is just adapting to life in his new school, that everyone is just adjusting to the new routine for the year. But it is already May, and things seem to be getting worse, not better. How long is this adjustment period supposed to be anyway? #askingforafriend

I can't tell you how many times I've asked myself if this is what I'm meant to do, if I'm doing more harm than good by staying at home with the kids, if life is meant to be like that. I wonder what it would be like to run away, to be alone, to not be responsible for anyone or anything.

And you know what? I don't think I'm alone in feeling like this. I believe that many mums feel burnt out, because I see so many mums who give and do so much for their families. I don't know how working mums do it: they go to work, do their jobs there, then come home to do even more things with/for their children. It's a miracle that these mothers are still alive and well, because I don't think I have it in me to do what they do, and live to tell the tale.

I started this post with the intention of sharing an article I wrote for 'The Birthday Book 2024' but ended up reflecting on what life has been like recently for me. It feels like somewhere along this journey called motherhood, I seem to have lost myself, and I don't quite know what to do about it.

Interestingly enough, even though I wrote the article below a year ago, the issues are still relevant today. We may never be able to divide the mental load equally, but can we at least try to support each other, rather than compete to see who has it the toughest?

To all the struggling mums out there, you are doing the best you can, and you are more than enough. Happy Mother's Day.

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"Raising kids is a walk in the park. Jurassic Park."

We snigger to ourselves when we read that quote, but I'm sure many, if not all, parents can relate to it. I can't tell you the number of times I've wished bedtime would come earlier, just so I could lie flat in bed and just enjoy the peace.

Don't get me wrong. I love my kids, and I love being a stay-at-home-mum: I love that I get to be a big part of my children's day, and have the leeway to be involved in their lives - volunteering in school, coaching them at work, and even, in my case, sharing their love for hockey.

Parenting is equal parts satisfying and fulfilling - the rosy bits we all like to talk about, and share proudly on social media - and frustrating and confidence zapping. The days (and nights) can get really overwhelming and downright exhausting.

Some days, I wonder if I'm truly cut out for this job, this role, this... dare I say, calling? Why is parenting so tough, and why does it seem that our parents and grandparents didn't face the same issues or pressure?

The simple answer is probably that life today is different. We have the luxury of worrying about our parenting styles, because we know that different styles exist. There's no "one size fits all" method that works, as parents of multiple children will tell you, so despite the unending cries of "It's not fair", we plod on, changing the rules as we go along, because we recognise that each child is different. The proverbial "parent the child you have, not the one you want".

Then there is the inherent dad-mum divide, with the former often able to play the "good cop" to mum's "bad cop", but should that really be the case? Should we not present a united front so that we don't send mixed signals? Is it fair for one person to be the bad guy, the one who receives less affection from the children, and more importantly, the one whom the children won't turn to when they have problems? Do we really want our children to resent one parent, and care only for the other?

While we're at it, why does most of the burden of child-rearing fall on mothers? In many households, even if both parents are working full-time, the mums are the ones in the class WhatsApp chats, comparing information from the Parents Gateway and Class Dojo apps, while the dads don't even have those two apps downloaded onto their phones.

The invisible load of motherhood, mixed with that inevitable mum guilt, is a weight that many of us carry every single day. We juggle a hundred little things - organising each child's schedule, planning meals, trying our best to ensure that the kids are happy and healthy - tasks which go unnoticed until we don't do them. Then, there's the guilt that eats at us, constantly making us question every choice we make. Did I spend enough time with each kid today? Was I too harsh when I was tired and snapped? That little inner voice questions our every move, and makes us feel like we're never doing enough. It's a tough balancing act: trying to be everything for everyone, yet wondering if we're doing it right. There's no need for others to judge us, secretly or otherwise, because we judge ourselves all the time.

It's clear that the invisible load and mum guilt are heavy burdens many mothers bear alone. It's time we start having open conversations about these struggles, acknowledging the emotional and mental labour involved in motherhood.

There is no shame in admitting that we don't know it all, and that we don't have it all under control. By talking about it, we can support each other, challenge unrealistic expectations, and find ways to share the load more equitably - with our husbands, extended family, and mothering tribe.

Let's create a community where mothers feel seen, understood, and valued for all they do.