There’s this specific kind of tired that hits somewhere around the last week of April.
It’s not the tired from staying up too late or skipping the gym. It’s a bone-deep, soul-level exhaustion that comes from holding approximately eleven thousand things at once — the calendar, the emotions, the logistics, the snacks, the permission slips, the group texts, the end-of-year everything — while also somehow still being expected to show up, smile, and make it all look normal.
I talked to so many moms this week who were feeling it. Like, really feeling it. The kind of conversations where someone starts with “I’m fine, just busy” and ends up crying in a Target parking lot. You know the ones.
Late April and through May is its own special category of chaos. Spring sports are on full blast. School projects multiply like gremlins after midnight. Teacher appreciation week (bless those humans, truly). Spring concerts. Volunteer asks. The end-of-year countdown that somehow makes everything feel more urgent and more emotional at the same time. Every single week feels like a sprint to a finish line that keeps moving.
And then — because life doesn’t pause for your already-full plate — the real stuff happens on top of it.
This Week, For Us, Was A Lot.
Last week we had Oscar’s brain MRI.
If this is the first time you’re here, Oscar is our 11 year old and has a Chiari Malformation — a condition where brain tissue extends into the spinal canal. Three years ago he had decompression surgery, which went well, but a few weeks ago his headaches and extreme exhaustion came flying back. The MRI was supposed to give us answers. And it did, just not the ones we were hoping for on Friday when the radiology report landed in my hands and implied that surgery was necessary.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you I aged ten years between Friday and Wednesday.
I had way too much Starbucks (sorry, Mike — it’s my nervous tick and I have zero regrets). I cried in the car. I googled things I should not have googled. I held it together in front of the boys and then absolutely did not hold it together when I was alone. I was on an emotional rollercoaster I could not get off of no matter how hard I tried to just breathe and stay present and all the other things you’re supposed to do.
Then Tuesday came and our neurosurgeon’s team called and asked us to come in Wednesday. And if you’ve ever been in a situation like this, you know exactly what that call feels like. You don’t get fast-tracked for good news. At least that’s what my brain decided at 11pm Tuesday night.
Wednesday afternoon we sat in that exam room and I held my breath.
And then — by some absolute act of God, and I genuinely believe it was every single prayer that went up this week — our neurosurgeon read the MRI with us and got numbers that were vastly different from the radiologist’s. No surgery necessary. Not right now. Not what we feared.
I don’t have words for what that felt like. Relief doesn’t cover it. Gratitude doesn’t cover it. I just sat there in complete shock.
We still have some follow-up testing to do with our pediatrician, and we’re not completely in the clear of questions, but we are not looking at more brain surgery and that is everything right now.
So Yeah. It Was That Kind Of Week.
And here’s the thing — while I was white-knuckling my way through Oscar’s situation, I was also still doing all the other stuff. Because that’s what we do. The lunches still needed to be made. The practices still needed to happen. The other three boys still needed their mom present, not just physically in the room but actually there.
I talked to a mom this week who was juggling a sick kid, a work deadline, and her other kid’s spring concert all in the same 48-hour window. Another who was managing end-of-year teacher gifts while her own mom is in the hospital. Another who just needed someone to tell her that the reason she felt like she was failing at everything was because she was trying to do everything — not because she was actually failing.
We are ALL in it right now.
But Can We Also Talk About How Incredible This Season Is?
Because I don’t want to just sit in the hard stuff. That’s not the full picture.
Late April and all of May is also magic.
It’s your kid scoring the score goal and you catching their face when they look up to find you in the crowd. It’s spring concerts where they’re singing slightly off-key and you’re crying anyway because how are they this big already? It’s the end-of-year classroom parties where you show up with cupcakes and they run to you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them.
It’s windows down, chaos in the backseat, everyone talking over each other, and you thinking this — this is the thing I’ll miss someday.
We are in the thick of it, and the thick of it is also the good stuff. Both things are true at the same time.
The exhaustion and the magic. The overwhelm and the gratitude. The “I cannot do one more thing” and the “I would do all of this a thousand times over.”
That’s motherhood in late April. That’s motherhood, period.
You’re Not Behind. You’re Not Failing. You’re Just In It.
If you’re reading this from a carpool line or a waiting room or your bathroom floor with the door locked (no judgment, we’ve all been there), I want you to hear this:
You are doing an incredible job.
Not in spite of the chaos — through it. You are managing the impossible daily logistics of keeping small humans alive and loved and showing up to their things and holding their fears and somehow also keeping the household functioning and still trying to take care of yourself even when that feels like a joke.
That is not small. That is extraordinary.
The memories your kids are going to carry with you from this season? They’re not going to remember that you were stressed. They’re going to remember that you showed up. Every single time, you showed up.
So if this week wrecked you a little — same. You’re in good company.
And if you, like me, consumed an irresponsible amount of Starbucks as a coping mechanism? Also no judgment. Sometimes a venti is just the move.
We’re going to get through the rest of this sprint together. And when summer hits and the schedule exhales, we’re going to look back at this season and know exactly what we’re made of.
A lot. We’re made of a lot.
Feeling this? Come tell me in the comments or send me a DM — I genuinely want to know how your week went. And if you need someone to tell you you’re doing great, I’m here for that too.