The Weight of All The Things

 

Some nights I lie in bed and wonder what would happen if I just ..... stopped. 

Stopped answering texts. 

Stopped prepping for meetings. 

Stopped remembering meds, schools forms, the sensory needs, and the fucking ketchup I forgot the third time this week. 

I run a childcare centre. I'm literally responsible for other people's children all day long - which, to be clear, I love - but the irony of caring for a dozen toddlers while my own kid's school is calling because they need "a quick chat about another incident" is not lost on me. 

One minute I'm singing "Baby Shark" and wiping boogers off a snack table, the next I'm sprinting out the door with a bag of emergency pants for my kid at school. 

Again. 

No shade. Just facts. 

I've sat in a school EA meetings still wearing paint on my shirt from toddlers at art time. I've had to explain that my kid isn't being difficult, they're in survival mode - while mentally calculating if I can get back to my centre in time for afternoon pickup. I've rescheduled parent tours because the schooled needed me now - and of course dropped everything. Because that's what we do. 

I am a business owner, a mom, a wife and the glue barely holding this circus together, with a coffee and whatever's left of my patience. 

Marriage? Oh yeah, let's talk about that. 

It's mostly late-night side glances while we silently decide who's more tired. 

It's "Did you pay the internet bill?" and "She didn't sleep again."

It's love, but not the kind in the movies. 

I'm raising brilliant, intense, wildly unique kids in a world that constantly asks them to be smaller, quieter, easier. And while I'm fighting for their needs, I'm also leading a team, writing lessons plans, managing payroll, and calming other people's babies while mine, across town, are falling apart. 

So no - I'm not showing up to life polished. 

I'm showing up covered in cracker dust, answering school e-mail at red lights, and trying to remember the last time I had anytime to myself. 

But I'm here. 

And maybe you are too. 

In the thick of it. The noise, the chaos, the juggling of all the things. 

If today was full of mismatched socks, forgotten lunch kits, meltdowns, and a daycare fridge that smells off again - you're not alone. 

You're doing more than enough. 

You're keeping it all moving. 

And that? That's the kind of strength no one claps for - but it deserves a goddamn standing ovation. 

So here's to us: The woman's running businesses, raising complicated kids, loving hard, screwing up, showing up, and doing it with a heart that just won't quit. 

We're not thriving. We're surviving - with humour, hustle and a bag of extra underwear in the front seat. 

This is Shitshow & Co ❤