Last night, I texted my mom, “That’s it. I’m quitting.”
She responded, “What, putting the kids to bed? 😂”
“No,” I said, “my job.”
The week prior, my husband had switched to working night shifts so that I could work. I had been interning at a law firm downtown for spring semester, and wanted to extend my internship into the summer. The only problem with this plan was that we had no childcare. Well that, and the summer position isn’t paid.
So Kevin agreed to work from 4pm until 11pm, that way I could work from 9am until 3pm, and one of us would always be home with the kids.
Week 1 of this arrangement we just had the twins, and it was tough, but manageable. I missed seeing Kevin, since now I only saw him briefly in the morning and for maybe half an hour before he went to work, but I used my newfound alone time to write, bake, and catch up on chores.
Week 2, however, our older kids returned from their other parents’ houses. Thanks to my husband and I’s joint-custody arrangements, we live our lives in these weekly increments — one week we have five kids, the next week we have just the twins. Over and over and over, for the next twelve or so years.
The three older kids — ages 8, 5, and 5 — came barreling into our house at full speed on Sunday night. Transition days are always chaotic, as the kids are coming from two different households with two very different ways of living and sets of rules than my husband and I have in our house. That, and the kids haven’t all been together in a week, so they tend to be bouncing off the walls.
Sunday was hectic, but Kevin was home to help. He handled getting the twins to bed, and I handled the older kids. I showed them a few ways I had reorganized the house in their absence, helped them change into pajamas and brush their teeth, mediated an argument over whose turn it was in the top bunk, and tucked them into bed.
But Monday night, I was all alone. Dinner time, bath time, and bed time were all my responsibility, and I was having a Not Good Time.
So I texted my mom, “That’s it. I’m quitting.”
And she responded, “What, putting the kids to bed? 😂”
“No,” I said, “my job.”
Because if I quit my job, then Kevin could change his schedule back to more normal hours, and be home in the evenings to help. If I quit my job, then I’d have all day to work on laundry and dishes and homework, not just a few hours.
Growing up, my dad worked full-time, and then some, while my mom held down the fort at home. During his work’s busy season, it wasn’t uncommon for my dad to work upwards of eighty hours a week. Legend has it that he even stayed the night at his office on a few occasions, not bothering with the one-hour commute home from Chicago just to go back the next day.
I was the oldest of three, and my siblings and I are spaced out around three years each. So every day, my mom managed to feed us all three meals, bathe us, and keep us from killing each other, while often tackling an outing to the pool or baking a batch of cookies, too.
She handled the cooking, the cleaning, the grocery shopping, the paying of the bills, and probably dozens of other administrative tasks that went unnoticed by me at the time, day in and day out. It wasn’t until I became a mom myself that I realized how much she did.
My mom did it all by herself for years and years., and here I was in shambles after just a few hours.
So I texted her as much. I said something along the lines of, “Every time I think I’m having a hard time, I just remember that you did this daily for basically two decades.” I meant it as a compliment, and I think it was received as such, but her response surprised me:
“Well I didn’t have a set of twins, and you basically have two.”
I paused. Thought about it. As usual, she was right. My “real” twins are almost four months old, but my daughter and stepson, at only a few months apart, are functionally twins, as well.
My mom asked what specifically I was struggling with, if it was the little kids or the big kids, and I couldn’t really pinpoint it. And then in that moment, I realized just how fine I was doing.
Sure, dinner wasn’t going to be done until 7:00pm, but dinner was also a homemade casserole that I had whipped up with random ingredients in my kitchen.
Sure, the twin in the bath was screaming and so was the twin waiting for her turn in the bath, but once they were done, all five kids would be bathed and clean.
Sure, this was all happening a little later than I would have liked, but that’s because I walked all five kids and the dog down the street to the playground, by myself.
Sure, I felt overwhelmed and a little tired. But maybe that’s because I was actually doing a pretty darn good job.
The version of me that had my first daughter was born would be floored if she could see everything I was juggling now. Back then, I could barely take care of myself and one kid. Now, I balance the needs of five kids, a dog, myself, my husband, and the demands of law school, while also running, writing, hiking, hanging out with friends, and living a life I genuinely love.
I have been asked how I “do it all” many times, and I never have an answer that is helpful. But what I do know it that somehow, your capacity will grow as your family grows, and even if it seems impossible, you will figure it out.
And it might not feel like it every single night, but without realizing, you will be doing an amazing job.
Although I have more articles scheduled through the end of July, this summer I also want to write more pieces like this: written in one sitting, usually while I pump, just short reflections on motherhood based on whatever is happening in my life. I hope you all enjoy!
Step by Step Parenting 