This is my life, right now: My children, ages 4 and 5, won’t eat anything but plain bow-tie noodles. My 5-year-old won’t go outside because a goose chased her at the park last spring, and now she has a paralyzing fear of the outdoors. My 4-year-old still routinely climbs into my bed every night, in the middle of the night, and sandwiches himself between me and my husband, insisting on sharing my pillow and breathing into my face as he sleeps. I’m sleep-deprived. I’m strung out. Between shuffling one kid off to physical therapy multiple times per week and coaxing the other to get on the bus every morning (there are geese in our neighborhood), I frequently feel like I’m at the end of my rope.
Parenting is stressful. I don’t need a study to tell me that. But sometimes, it feels more than stressful — it feels like total exhaustion. It feels like burnout.
How do you tell the difference between burnout and life being, well, hard?
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