Four months pregnant and sitting on my parents’ couch in the midst of Christmas vacation, a commercial for Family Guy came on the TV. It’s the one where Stewie just stands there whining, “Lois. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mommy. Mommy. Mom. Mom” over and over again at Lois, while she lies on the bed in despair.

“You better get used to that sound,” commented my own mom. I just rolled my eyes.

Fast forward two years.

A small child sits outside our bathroom door, banging on it and crying, while I’m inside. Suddenly, I both recall that commercial and truly understand the depth of the phrase, “I just want to pee alone.”

As a mom, especially of young children, you’re never truly alone. Even when you’re physically separated from your kid, they’re still in the back of your mind crying, “Mamamamama!” But they’re a whole lot louder in person.

My Life Isn’t My Own

This constant need is in no way new. The first few months of Sprout’s life, he wouldn’t tolerate sitting or lying by himself for more than 30 seconds without crying. Just going to the bathroom or making food to shove in my mouth felt like I was torturing my baby. While some moms adore having someone rely on them for every need, the pressure and weight of it was almost painful to me. Personally, it was a huge relief both to go back to work and have Sprout gain some small measure of independence as a toddler.

Now, it’s less his specific, constant need to stay alive than the constant need of simply being a mom. While he’s fine when I leave the house, any moment I have in his presence belongs to him.

The Morning Overwhelm

His voice is typically the first thing I hear in the morning. While he seems to have moved it back again (at least temporarily), this was starting as early as 5:45 AM. Unfortunately, I am not a morning person. If it’s staggeringly early, I retreat with him to the couch to close my eyes for a bit longer. If not, I get his breakfast ready, then mine. Around 7, we bounce into the bedroom and Sprout wakes Chris up.

Unfortunately, Chris is groggy at that time and Sprout isn’t interested in his company. Instead, he stands outside the bathroom whining “Mamamamama” while I take my shower. It’s not the whole time, but it’s just enough to make me feel guilty.

As soon as the water turns off, he’s back. He follows me to the bedroom, where I spend a quarter of the time getting dressed and three-quarters of the time keeping him from ransacking my nightstand. Once I’m done, I shuffle him out the room. As I go about my morning routine, I have to repeat this several times. He’s not allowed in our bedroom, the bathroom, or the spare room alone and I always inevitably forget something. Often, he’s trying to shove a book in my hands (despite Chris offering to read) or reaching for something he’s not allowed to have.

The Evening Routine

When I come home around 6:15, I play with Sprout as Chris makes dinner, then bathe and put him to bed by 8:30. By that time, I have about 2 1/2 hours to do every non-kid, non-work thing, including talking to my husband, washing the dishes, exercising, activist work, writing, reading or watching TV. Once a month, I miss a single weekday bedtime to go to a bike advocacy or church meeting.

On weekends, I try to schedule anything without Sprout during his nap time. Being a working mom with a long commute, I hate the thought of missing more time with him than absolutely necessary. Also, because Chris is the primary caregiver, I like giving him a break. So all of the noise about how “Mom should take time to go to a yoga class” falls on deaf ears. When on earth could I do that?

Frankly, I’m freaking exhausted.

It Could Be Much Harder

But the worst part? I have it easy compared to so many other moms. I don’t need to cook dinner or do laundry much of the time. There’s no picking him up from daycare or needing to stay home when he’s sick. There’s no reason I couldn’t take a vacation away from him if I wanted. I could get more sleep if I cut back on my extracurriculars (although they keep me sane).

More dramatically, I don’t have to work two jobs to pay the bills. I look at the stories of single parents who finish one shift at 11 PM and start another one at 4 AM and bristle in anger that our society requires that to survive.

Unfortunately, no one has it easy.

There is absolutely no question that many people have it worse than others. But we’re all here together on earth and life. People are messy and messed up. There are only 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week worldwide. We simultaneously never have enough time and entirely too much time with the people we love, especially our kids. We may not all have a little voice whining “Mamamamama,” but we all have competing demands that push each other aside for our attention and energy.

We’re All In It Together

When I was a teenager working at Target, I wondered why the women’s clothing section was always the messiest. Clothes were everywhere: the shelves, the dressing rooms, the floor. I liked to imagine the customers were all harried mothers who spent so much time picking up after everyone else that having one place they didn’t need to was a relief. (And that was before all of the mom/Target memes!) That thought made me feel like I was doing some sort of public service through my shitty summer job.

In the end, we need to extend grace towards each other as moms, recognizing the continual fight between the neediness of the world and the limits of our sanity. Remembering each others’ inner and outer toddlers demanding attention might just just allow us to forgive them and lend a helping hand to clean up their mess a little.

Being a mom is the hardest job I’ve ever had. For more on learning to handle the weight of being a mom, check out A Season of Smothering. For more stories of parenting, be sure to follow the blog’s Facebook page!