Parenting is hard. It’s physically and emotionally draining. The days can seem endless and perhaps worse, the nights can seem even longer. Is there anything longer than endless? Yes. Webster’s defines “longer than endless” as nights spent with children who don’t sleep and also the amount of time it takes for children under the age of seven to get dressed in the morning.
I know I’m not breaking any news here, but when you’re a parent, especially a stay-at-home parent whose primary job is to care for children all day, the boredom and routine can obscure larger truths. Children are remarkable. Being a parent of children is remarkable. I’ve been a parent for over a decade, I have three children, and when I think about how far we’ve come together, I’m still amazed.
These little people growing, learning, and blossoming before my eyes are a part of me. They are funny and charming. They constantly surprise me with their insight. But all of these good qualities can get lost in the frustration of crayons thrown on the floor and unruly stubbornness during dinner.
Sometimes I go days without appreciating what I have. Instead, I focus on completing tasks and checking them off my mental list. Wake up. Get the kids out of bed and feed them. Dress them. Take them to school. Pick them up. Get them doing something that doesn’t involve a screen. Snacks. Homework. Play. Dinner. Bath. Change out of pajamas. Bedtime. Wash. Do laundry. Go to bed. Repeat.
Because I’m a task-completion junkie, any problem in the routine can irritate me. And so, if I’m not careful, I get really irritated. I get irritated because my kids don’t get dressed fast enough or won’t eat or won’t stop watching TV. I get irritated when they get too dirty playing outside or refuse to come inside when a Florida rainstorm suddenly comes. I often realize in the moment that I’m getting frustrated for no good reason, but acknowledging it isn’t enough. The frustration persists even when I can put a name to it.
Telling myself I need to do better doesn’t help. What does? Writing.
I usually write in the evening, long after the kids are in bed. I stay up too late, so I’m always tired, but it’s worth it because writing allows me to process and recalibrate the events of the day. The little annoyances I experience usually seem funny when I write about them. And the sweet moments that barely register as they happen often bring tears to my eyes as I put them into words, type them on my laptop, and protect them from the vagaries of an unreliable memory.
When I write, even if it’s just a hundred words, a short anecdote or notes about a day I’ve lived, I feel different. Better. Stronger. The next morning when my day starts, I’m usually a little more patient. A little less vulnerable to the lurking demons of annoyance and frustration. Well, for a few hours anyway. Writing doesn’t turn me into an enlightened yogi, it just helps me remember that there’s a forest, not just trees. And despite all the boredom, I experience something transcendent when I’m with my children. Even when there are crayons strewn all over the floor and forgotten bananas in the playroom.
If parenting is getting you down, try writing it down. Or if writing doesn’t work for you, find something that will help you see it more clearly. You’ll be better for it. And your kids will be better for it, too.
Writer and father. Founder of Frazzled, a humorous parenting publication on Medium. Author of the novel Love’s a Disaster (2024) and the humorous essay collection Fatherhood: Dispatches From the Early Years (2016). Probably sweeping off the trampoline right now.
