I know you’re tired.

I know you need a break. A break that is eight months overdue and is nowhere near in sight. 

You’re tired of trying to entertain your children all day, every day, and are running out of ideas to entertain them. You’ve been resorting to television too much and have watched Mickey Mouse Clubhouse over and over (and over) again. You wish you could get the “Hot Dog” song out of your head. 

I know you’re sick of the social distancing and you’ve been stuck in your house for far too long.

You’re disappointed that even though you’ve spent so much time in your home, the house hasn’t had a deep-cleaning in months and it’s disgusting. And so, part of you is grateful you can’t have company over because it’s just straight-up embarrassing. 

I know you’re frustrated because you put your toddler in a time-out four times today for the same thing (not listening) and he just kept testing you and pushing your buttons. 

I know you have a headache because your baby girl just cried and cried every time you put her down and she just wouldn’t take a nap.

I know you’re exhausted because everywhere you turn, your son was making another mess behind you and you can’t keep up with him. 

I know you’re heartbroken every time you watch your son watch the neighbor kids playing but in your heart, you’re just not ready for that yet. You wish you could be ready for it, not just for him but for you too because you desperately need that break we just talked about. 

I know you don’t remember the last time you got to pee in peace. (Enough said, moving on.)

I know you wish you could have just one afternoon to yourself. One afternoon to roam aimlessly around Target, sipping that latte and buying pointless stuff you know you don’t need. 

I know you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom because you needed a good cry. It’s OK to cry and it’s OK to be angry at yourself for being so short-tempered or for feeling like no one appreciates you. Don’t be so hard on yourself, mama. 

You’re weary and even when you do get to sleep, you’ve got one ear open to all the noises of the house, listening for someone to call your name.

I know, mama, because I am you.

I’ve had my share of tears these past eight months. 

My house is a mess but no one would know or has seen it in months because of this pandemic.

I’m sick of not seeing anyone and the feeling of being lonely is getting to me. I’m tired of the only conversations I get to have every day are with a 3-year-old because everyone else has gone back to work or they’re too busy to call up the stay-at-home mom to check on her

I’m tired of the baby who screams and screams and no matter what I try, she just can’t be consoled.

I’m tired of not letting my son play with others, not just to give myself a break but to give him a break from me too because I know how bored he is with me. 

I know mama, it’s hard. They told you it was hard but you didn’t believe it until you signed up for this stay-at-home mom life. And the world we’re in right now, it’s not making it any easier, that’s for sure.

So mama, if you’re feeling tired, I’m here to tell you that you’re not alone. I’m worn out. I’m beat. I have “pandemic fatigue” too.

I’m right there with you, mama.

I need that break, too. 

I’m in need of a break that’s eight months overdue and nowhere near in sight.

PS—If you haven’t in a while, check on your strong friend . . . she’s faking it.

Courtney Devich

I am a mom of two little ones (God blessed me with one of each) and a former HR leader turned stay-at-home mom. I write with a heart for the mom struggling with mental illness, but I write about all things motherhood, marriage, and faith on my blog, Her Strength & Dignity. You can usually find me in the Starbucks line at my local Target, watching Fixer Upper, or chasing after a toddler (or two) in my home in Michigan.