By Abby Waychoff OTR/L, RYT, PMH-C
There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from being responsible for another human being all day, every day. It isn't just the physical exhaustion of getting everyone fed, dressed, bathed, and where they need to be. It is the mental exhaustion of constantly thinking about what comes next.
Did I remember the appointment?
Do they have clean socks?
What are we eating for dinner?
Did I sign the permission slip?
When was the last time we bought toothpaste?
Are they getting enough sleep?
This list is endless.
And then there are the countless decisions that come with trying to keep our children entertained, stimulated, learning, developing, and, ideally, happy.
We are surrounded by information telling us how to do all of this better. Parenting books, podcasts, Instagram accounts, TikToks, blogs, apps, routines, schedules, and hacks.
A few years ago, when I was a fairly new mom, I wrote about my futile attempt to find the most creative ways to entertain my then-14-month-old son so I could make a healthy meal for our family. After reading it, I’ll shed some light on how I think about that effort now…
My Pinterest Fail
It has been 14 months since my son was born, which means it has been 14 months since I’ve made a decent meal. Sure, here and there my husband and I have been able to team up to whip something together, but I’m very often on my own to prepare meals. Hence, meals don’t happen. My son mainly survives on healthy foods hidden inside a tortilla since that’s the only way he’ll eat it; however, I think he’s onto me, as his zest for all things quesadilla is waning. When I try to make something more complicated, he loses his mind because 100% of my attention isn’t laser-pointed in his direction. This weekend I decided that there must be a way to keep a one-year-old relatively busy while making him something decent to eat.
So to Pinterest, I went.
On Pinterest I was greeted with list after exhaustive list of “fun activities to keep your one-year-old busy”. I picked out a few activities that I felt sure would entertain my busy boy. I felt empowered. Excited. I could do this. I stocked my basket at Michael’s full of felt, pipe cleaners, colorful puffballs, and finger paints. My solution lived in that basket, and I had a plan for the following day.
First came breakfast. I dutifully showed him how to put the puffballs into his shape-sorter, which he got the hang of and quickly got bored with. I remembered an idea that one mom said kept her son busy for an hour: give them kitchen tongs and have them try to pick up the puffballs. Great idea in theory, right? Unfortunately, I had recently taught my son the sign for “help” so his version of this keep-‘em-busy activity consisted of him picking up the tongs, making a medicore effort at using them, then aggressively making the “help” sign and crying until I helped him.
Fail #1.
Next came the felt project. While my son napped, I cut out a bunch of shapes he could stick onto a larger piece of felt I hung up in the kitchen. I had no expectation that he would create elaborate patterns, but maybe some interest? Nope, other than to rip all the pieces off and promptly shove them into his mouth.
Fail #2.
My hope was fading, but it was diner time, and I needed a break, so I pulled out my last piece of ammo: finger paint. I didn’t plan to give him finger paints to actually use with his bare hands in paint…wasn’t ready for that mess. Instead, I used what I thought was an ingenious Pinterest idea: I put the paint in a gallon-sized Ziploc bag and taped it to his highchair so he could move the paint around and make fun designs, sans the mess. As I prepped the bag, he was very observant and interested. I thought, “heck yeah, this one’s gonna be a winner”. Nope. Just as soon as I taped the thing to his tray, he was attempting to pull it off with no interest whatsoever in the paint. I futilely tried to show him how much fun it was to move around the paint, but he responded by ripping it off his tray and throwing it on the ground.
Fail #3.
What started as a day of “I got this” ended in the feeling that “I’m never going to make a meal again”. I was hopeful, but alas, Pinterest has failed me (and I didn’t even mention the pipe cleaners that were a fail last night when he poked himself in the face). In the end, I tried. I survived. He survived and he got a quesadilla for dinner. After fail after fail, I resorted to our old faithful: a pacifier and books. I don’t know what the answer is or when I will ever have any time when I’m not either on the ground with my son, standing with him clinging to my legs, or with him in one arm while I do everything else with the other, but I’m trying hard to turn my attention away from the fails and instead to how our night ended, with sweet snuggles and my naked boy running around his room while I chased him with lotion and his jammies.
Looking at This Story Differently
Reading this now, years later, I can laugh about the puffballs, the felt, the finger paint, and the pipe cleaners.
But I also see something else.
I see a parent who was already doing an incredible amount of mental work. I wasn't just trying to make dinner. I was simultaneously trying to solve the problem of how to make dinner while keeping my child occupied, engaged, safe, stimulated, and happy.
And when the first idea didn't work, I immediately moved to the next one.
Then the next.
Then the next.
I was planning, organizing, problem-solving, shifting strategies, managing frustration, monitoring my child's response, and trying to accomplish a completely separate task at the same time.
That is executive functioning. And parenting asks us to use these skills constantly.
The Invisible Work of Parenting
When we talk about parenting being exhausting, we often focus on the physical work.
The laundry.
The dishes.
The driving.
The bedtime routine.
But another layer is much harder to see: the mental load.
Mental load is the ongoing cognitive work of managing a household and family. It's noticing what needs to happen, remembering it, planning for it, anticipating problems, making decisions, and tracking all the moving pieces. And much of that work happens in our heads.
This is one reason parenting can feel so overwhelming even when we aren't technically “doing” anything.
You might be sitting on the couch while your child watches a show, but your brain is running through tomorrow's schedule, wondering what you're going to make for dinner, remembering that you need to buy more diapers, thinking about the email you haven't answered, and trying to remember whether you ever scheduled that dentist appointment.
Your body may be sitting still.
Your brain rarely is.
And Then There Is Executive Functioning
Executive functioning refers to a group of cognitive skills that help us manage ourselves and accomplish tasks.
Planning.
Prioritizing.
Organizing.
Initiating tasks.
Managing time.
Remembering information.
Shifting from one task to another.
Managing emotions.
Regulating our attention.
Parenthood puts an enormous demand on all of these skills. And the demands don't stop. In fact, they often multiply.
You aren't just managing yourself anymore. You're managing another person's schedule, needs, emotions, belongings, appointments, activities, meals, school requirements and preferences, often while simultaneously managing work, relationships, household responsibilities and your own needs.
For parents who are neurodivergent, particularly those with ADHD or other executive-functioning challenges, these demands can feel especially overwhelming. But you don't need a diagnosis to struggle.
Sleep deprivation, chronic stress, too many responsibilities, lack of support, and simply having too much to manage can affect anyone's ability to plan, organize, remember, and regulate.
Sometimes the problem isn't that you aren't trying hard enough. Sometimes there is simply too much to hold.
So What Do We Do About It?
One first step is to stop assuming every struggle is a personal failure.
If you consistently feel overwhelmed by the demands of parenting, instead of asking:
“What's wrong with me?” try asking: “What am I being asked to manage?” Then get curious about whether all of it actually needs to be managed by you.
A few things that can help:
Externalize the mental load.
Don't make your brain responsible for remembering everything. Use calendars, reminders, lists, visual schedules, shared apps, whatever works for you. Your brain is for thinking, not storing every piece of information your family needs.
Simplify.
Not everything needs to be optimized. Dinner can be easy. The activity can be skipped. The birthday party can be simple. Your child does not need a Pinterest-worthy childhood.
Question the “shoulds.”
Ask yourself: Does my family actually need this, or do I feel like I should be doing it because I've seen other people doing it? And then stop “should-ing” all over yourself!
Share ownership, not just tasks.
There is a big difference between “Can you help me with dinner?” and “You are responsible for dinner tonight.” The second version has taken on the planning and mental load, not just the execution.
Build systems that work for your actual brain and family.
You don't need the “best” organizational system. You need one you will actually use.
And give yourself some compassion.
You are managing an extraordinary number of things. You don't have to do all of them perfectly. And you certainly don't have to turn every moment of your child's day into an opportunity for enrichment. Sometimes the best thing you can do is make the quesadilla.
Read the book.
Give the pacifier.
Let the felt pieces stay on the floor.
And then chase your naked kid around the bedroom with lotion and pajamas.
Because those moments count, too. Maybe even more than the ones we spent so much energy trying to create.
And if parenting feels harder than you think it should, maybe the first question isn't “How can I get better at this?”
Maybe it's: “How can I make this easier?”
