The Mental Load: Why Moms Deserve an Olympic Medal for Remembering Everything

People always ask, "What's it like being a mom?"

Oh, you mean besides being the unpaid CEO, COO, project manager, scheduler, chef, chauffeur, event planner, inventory manager, therapist, and human reminder app?

It's great.

Take today, for example.

Before my feet even hit the floor this morning, my brain had already started running through its daily checklist.

What time do the kids need to be up for swim practice?

Do we have enough time for breakfast before we have to leave?

Do I have enough time to leave and take Ry to daycare and come back and take them or do I wait, drop the kids off at the pool then take her?

Do we have clean towels?

Then, while everyone else is blissfully eating cereal and existing, my brain has already moved on to summer survival mode.

I need to make chore lists because if I don't, my children will somehow spend eight straight hours watching YouTube videos about people playing Minecraft while insisting they're "bored."

How is that even possible?

So now I'm creating daily chore charts that include things like:

• Empty the dishwasher.

• Fold your laundry.

• Feed the dog.

• Touch grass.

  
  

Because apparently "clean your room" is far too vague.

Then comes the pool logistics.

Not just...

"Let's go to the pool."

Oh no.

It's...

What time do I need to leave to pick up my youngest from daycare so she gets enough pool time?

But don't leave too early because if we get there during Adult Swim, I will have three disappointed children standing at the edge of the pool for fifteen minutes asking every thirty seconds:

"Is it over yet?"

No, it's been forty-five seconds.

Please stop asking.

Then I have to calculate backwards.

If we stay until this time...

Then we'll have enough time to get home...

Cook dinner...

Get everyone showered...

Do baths...

Find pajamas...

Convince at least one child that yes, brushing your teeth is still required even during summer...

Unless...

It's swim meet night.

Then everything changes.

Because obviously we aren't cooking dinner, we're packing picnic dinners.

Which means I have to remember juice boxes, sandwiches, fruit, snacks, napkins, chairs, sunscreen, bug spray, extra towels, water bottles, goggles, Sharpies for event numbers, and approximately seventeen other items that no one else will remember until we've already left the house.

And if I forget one thing?

Everyone notices.

Nobody notices that I remembered the other 47 things.

Just the one I forgot.

That's motherhood.

But wait, we're not done.

Because while everyone else is enjoying July, my brain has skipped ahead to...

Back-to-school shopping.

It's JULY.

JU-LY.

The school supplies haven't even gone on sale yet, but I'm already wondering:

Who needs new shoes?

Who's outgrown every pair of shorts they own?

Whose jeans are suddenly capris?

How much has everyone grown since spring?

Do I clean out closets now or wait another month and risk them growing two more inches?

And then it hits me.

DJ's in middle school this year and trying out for school sports.

Which means...

Sports physical.

Which means...

Well visits.

Which means...

Panic.

So, I called today. Today is July 15th. I figured this is good, this is responsible, this is trying to get ahead, trying to win at parenting...The first available appointment?

November 25th.

November.

Twenty-fifth.

The DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING.

Fantastic.

Because nothing says "prepared for fall sports" quite like a physical four months after school starts.

FML.

Meanwhile, everyone else is asking me what we're having for dinner.

I don't know.

I used all my brain cells remembering literally everything else.

That's the thing about the mental load. It isn't one giant responsibility. It's one thousand tiny responsibilities.

It's remembering that one child hates strawberries this week but loved them last week.

It's knowing there are only six Gogurts left.

It's remembering library books are due on Thursday.

It's signing camp forms.

Ordering birthday gifts.

Checking swimsuit sizes.

Scheduling dentist appointments.

Buying more sunscreen.

Replacing the toothbrush the dog chewed up.

Figuring out dinner.

Again.

Every.

Single.

Day.

It's exhausting because it never turns off.

There is no "clocking out."

No one sees the tabs open in your brain.

They only see the meals magically appear, the appointments magically get scheduled, the backpacks magically get packed, and the kids magically show up where they're supposed to be.

The magic is us.

We're carrying the invisible checklist that keeps the whole family running.

So, if you're reading this while mentally calculating whether you have enough milk for breakfast tomorrow, wondering if you switched the laundry, trying to remember if anyone has a birthday party this weekend, and debating whether you can get away with breakfast for dinner tonight...

Welcome.

You're among friends.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go set a reminder to schedule another reminder for the thing I just remembered I forgot.