Crying on a bench in my front garden instead of going for a run

The straws that broke Mama Donkey's back

Yesterday, my husband finished work early so I could take the dog for a run whilst he finished giving the triplets their dinner.

Instead of going for a run, I sat on the bench in our front garden and cried.

It had been a long, wet afternoon. Jerry and Frankie have just learned how to ride pedal bikes so they had their helmets on, waiting by the back door all afternoon for the rain to stop. They were literally like puppies looking longingly at the door handle. I tried to distract them with stories and Play-Doh, but there’s only so much of that active boys will take before they get destructive.

That’s what was going on in my physical plane. In my mental plane, I’d mindlessly checked my emails and got a very scary, threatening one that I hadn’t had time to read properly, let alone process that had racked my stress and fear levels up and up. Dealing with both planes, and flipping from one to the other was exhausting.

Then it all kicked off at dinner time.

It was one of those situations (which I think you’ll recognise) where asking another adult for help actually results in more work than if you’d have just done the damn thing yourself. Plus, you have to deal with the incredulity of the other adult, seemingly not knowing how to do something you do multiple times a day. I’m not proud to say I snapped at James, then walked out the front door, sat on the bench and sobbed, hoping my neighbours wouldn’t see.

(Pic: Me holding Jerry with Frankie and Rafa in the background)

When the little things pile up

That doesn’t sound like enough to break a pretty capable mama on a Monday afternoon, but like I said the other week, it’s not the straw that breaks the donkey’s back, but the millions of unprocessed straws Mama Donkey has been carrying as she’s climbed up Mount Motherhood every single day. There’s hardly anyone offering to carry some of those straws for us, but plenty who want to pile on more. So on we go, ever upward, pushing harder and harder until we hit a moment where it all gets too much.

So please, one donkey to another, give yourself that circuit breaker, take those regular 10-minutes for yourself so you don’t end up snapping and crying on a bench. But also, if you find yourself there, show yourself some compassion. We’re dealing with a phenomenal challenge here, day after day, it’s going to take it’s toll.

How heavy are those straws feeling for you right now, Mama?

If this hit a nerve, you’re not alone.

I write about mum guilt, the mental load, and what it really looks like to stop putting yourself last.

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