I remember taking all three kids to Target when Abe was a baby. (Jeanie was 1 and Van was 4.)
Strangers would comment: "Woah! Supermom!!" or "You have your hands full!" as if the physical burden of wrangling three young children in a store was solid proof that I was an incredible mother. Those comments gave me a deep-rooted sense of pride:
I echoed to myself: "YES. I am a supermom. YES. I am good at what I do."
The difficulty of raising three young children is obvious. The difficulty of raising 3 older children seems invisible.
In 2024, as a mom of a 10-, 12-, and 14-year-old... I can confidently proclaim that I have never worked harder, been more exhausted, more overwhelmed, and more invisible as a mother of three.
I long for the "simple" task of taking my kids to Target. However, the comment I get now (if any) is: "At least your kids don't need you as much as they used to."
This comment seems to imply that the weight of motherhood has lifted now that my children have aged. It is implied that somehow my schedule has simplified and what is needed of me has diminished.
That is not the case.
I would really like to put in words the "invisible burden of motherhood" to communicate the required menial drudgery involved in being a "supermom" to older kids these days because so many seem to forget or not understand the impact, value, and need for one parent to take on the weight of these things for their family.
I am blown away by the demands on mothers and would have loved to have understood this a few years ago so that I knew what was on the horizon. I also wish mothers of older kids got a deeper sense of pride from taking on so many hard tasks for their families that are literally invisible from the outside.
My goal in writing this is that maybe if mothers continue to explain and advocate the demands on themselves, that parents can learn to divide these parenting burdens more evenly and eventually allow mothers more equal opportunities working outside of the home without having to primarily and simultaneously juggle the parenting burdens.
That is hard though, as one of my kid's teachers asked him yesterday: "Why did your mom buy you shoes that are way too big? Do not wear those again." [Dad bought the shoes, which I appreciate because it is one less thing for me to do. But why was it assumed this was my fault? Spoiler alert: Because it is always the mom's fault.]
I struggle with how best to communicate the steady pace of disruptions. I have heard it described as "It's like I have 1,000 tabs open in my brain and they never get closed." If I listed out the daily tasks I aim to do each day, someone (including myself) might misjudge the amount of time needed to complete a seemingly simple task.
For example: "Reschedule a child's tutoring appointment as it now conflicts with a sport practice." Anyone would assume this might take a quick email...five minutes maximum. An hour later...you realize this "simple" scheduling task has now taken 60 minutes of your day and is still not determined but needs to be. You decide to put it on hold, but keep this tab opened because it is important to resolve. However, in those 60 minutes of back-and-forth scheduling attempts, you have halfway completed a T-Shirt order form (that you realize you selected the wrong size for) so you keep that tab open as well. While this is happening, you realize you have 37 notifications from the kids' schools. THIRTY SEVEN. (This is true.) This includes emails, sports app notifications, and text messages (not to mention a missed call from another organization asking if you can volunteer for a week over the summer).
Let's go back to the '90s for a moment. Did the school ever send home 37 forms in one day? Isn't the point of apps to have "all the information in one place?" Yet, I now manage 4 separate sports apps for the kids that ping with details all day long. It is just another thing to filter through and add to the calendar.
Isn't email supposed to simplify the paper trail? But my guess is that the ease of sending an email is leading to MORE expectations and last-minute communication between schools, sports, churches, and allowing (in some cases) poor organization and planning on the front end because "it is so easy to shoot an email" or "we will keep you posted if something changes" or "check the app for updates."
Who is responsible for reading these 37 notifications? Does Evans get all 37? No, he does not. Can I choose to ignore them? Yes. Will there be an impact on me if I ignore them? In some cases-- yes.
For example, thirty minutes before time to pick up the kids from school, one of those tedious "pings" was an alert that one kid's practice time and location had changed. If I ignore that ping, my child misses practice. Whose fault is that? [Mom's fault]
Yet, if I do read all the pings...and I do get my kids everywhere all the time with everything they need...where are the strangers reminding me: I am supermom?
Why does it feel so invisible to work so hard? I have not even tackled the added element of patrolling phones and social media. Keeping tabs on all the devices is an extremely important (and tedious) yet invisible job that mostly falls on mothers.
I do hear: "You must be so proud of what they have accomplished." YES. I am. I am proud of their hard work, good choices, and grit.
But part of me wants to shout out: "They have been successful because I CARE to keep a pulse on ALL the things in their life. And it is HARD to care all the time and stay on top of all the things..." But this feels selfish and greedy to point out...so I don't.
My efforts stay hidden, and the invisible work continues. Am I a better mom than Evans is a dad? Not really.
But I am working so much harder as a parent.
How do we quantify that fairly in a way that is respected and valued by those around us?
