Loving our kids is the easy part.
Caring for them, nurturing them, showing up with hugs, bedtime stories, and scraped-knee kisses – that comes naturally.
It’s everything else that makes motherhood feel so heavy sometimes.
We’re not burnt out because of our kids.
We’re burnt out because society handed us a plate stacked with impossible expectations and told us to smile while balancing it on one hand.
Yes, women fought for the right to work – and we needed that.
But no one fought to redistribute the rest of the load we were already carrying.
So now we work full days…
and raise the babies,
and keep the house running,
and make meals (preferably organic, homemade, and screen-free),
and manage schedules, doctor’s appointments, school events, birthday parties, emotional labour, relationship labour, financial management, and still somehow maintain “self-care” because apparently, we’re supposed to glow while doing it all too.
The standards are a moving target:
Today it’s “Fed is Best.”
Tomorrow it’s “If you’re not breastfeeding, you’re failing.”
Screens are bad – until someone needs five minutes of peace.
Formula is poison – unless you’re shamed for breastfeeding in public.
Homemade everything is the gold standard – but make sure your house is spotless too.
No additives, no colourants, no processed foods, no mistakes.
Smile more. Complain less.
The messaging changes depending on who you talk to – but the underlying tone is always the same:
You’re not doing enough.
The truth?
It’s not our kids we need a break from.
It’s the crushing pressure.
It’s the unattainable standards.
It’s the lack of real support.
It’s the noise from everyone telling us how to parent without ever lifting a finger to help.
It’s the expectation that we can work as if we don’t have children, and parent as if we don’t have jobs.
It’s the way the village disappeared, and the load stayed.
Motherhood doesn’t break us.
It’s the everything else.
