Let’s dive into a vivid example of the mental burden I bear as a mom: Last weekend, I attended a work retreat out of town for two and a half days. With three active daughters, our weekends are usually jam-packed with activities, and despite my absence, there was still a lot to juggle.
My partner, Tom, is certainly capable of taking care of the kids and their schedules while I’m away. He has all the events marked on his calendar just like I do. However, what he lacks is the intricate web of details swirling around in my mind. That’s why, after 15 years of parenting together, I left him with a detailed itinerary.
He wouldn’t remember that our 6-year-old’s soccer jersey is freshly washed and still in the dryer. He’s not considering who might drive our middle-schooler to her event, or what to do if family A is unavailable — maybe family B can help. He won’t remember to check how our teenage daughter will get home from her volleyball party, or that she needs to bring brownies, and we need to give the host $20 for pizza and a gift for the coach.
This isn’t about Tom being incapable or indifferent. It’s simply that these ongoing responsibilities reside in my mind, not his. When I ask for help, he steps up — maybe not on my schedule or in my preferred way, but he does respond. He has his own mental checklist that often doesn’t align with our household needs.
There’s also an emotional layer to the asking. Sometimes I feel pressured to ask him for help, as if it’s more urgent for me. I can’t help but wonder why he can’t just anticipate what needs to be done. These conversations can lead to tension between us, and they’re increasingly prevalent in discussions online.
If I hadn’t prepared that annotated schedule? The weekend would still unfold, but it would likely have been more chaotic for both Tom and the kids. And honestly, if I hadn’t laid out those details, I’d also be anxious. I’d worry about all the information he would miss, and whether the kids would be stressed about where their soccer gear is or how they’ll get to parties. By providing that schedule, I’m lightening my mental load, even if just a bit.
I certainly invested time into preparing for my trip. I did laundry, stocked the fridge, wrote checks, paid bills, bought and wrapped a birthday present, and even baked brownies for my daughter’s volleyball party before heading to the airport.
Yet even with all this preparation and knowledge that Tom could handle things, I still found myself mentally running through next week’s tasks: the dog’s medications, scheduling the youngest’s dentist appointment, snacks for the upcoming soccer tournament, and coordinating Halloween costumes and trick-or-treating plans.
Am I complaining? A bit, yes. This mental load contributes to my anxiety and steals my sleep. More than anything, I’m finally recognizing the invisible labor that weighs on many women: managing the logistics and emotions of those around us — kids, partners, and even parents. I’m questioning how to change this dynamic and whether it’s as gender-biased as it seems.
What if we simply stopped doing everything? I suspect my family would adapt. They might figure out dinner, transportation, and even find their own sports gear. Would they start making their own appointments or ask Tom for help? Eventually. And if they didn’t? Life would go on, and the world would keep turning.
The pressing question is: how can I redefine my mental load? Who dictates this work? Is it me, societal norms, or the patriarchal structure? What does it mean to let go of anxiety over emotional discomfort — whether it’s mine or my kids’ or Tom’s?
I had hoped to gain some clarity during my weekend retreat, free from the weight of my responsibilities. I connected with brilliant, witty women and learned what “turnt” means, but I didn’t have a life-changing revelation. That’s alright; I recognize this is a complex issue that will require time and patience to unravel, not a quick fix.
When I returned home, the kids were fed; the older ones were doing homework while the youngest was prepping for bed. Sure, the dishwasher needed loading, and I stepped in dog food that had mysteriously migrated to the front hall, but otherwise, the house was in its usual, chaotic state.
And the schedule? It seemed to have vanished — hopefully appreciated and recycled. As for me, I settled into my cozy bed, enjoying a moment of mental respite, drifting off into a list-free, carefree sleep for one more night.
In addition to the challenges of motherhood, if you’re interested in exploring family planning options, check out this post about at-home insemination kits. They can provide valuable information, especially for those considering self insemination. For more resources on pregnancy, visit March of Dimes for excellent information about pregnancy week by week.
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