My text alert goes off before I’m out of the driveway. It’s been 7.9 seconds since I left my husband and son, so something must be wrong. I imagine worst-case scenarios involving beds as trampolines, sprained body parts and glitter explosions. I check my phone. It’s a message from my husband.
“What should I have for lunch?” It’s 9:30 in the morning.
The next text from my 11-year-old reads: “When should I start my homework?” Huh. Life-or-death — not so much.
Still, the urgency behind their words doesn’t go unnoticed, and more messages fill my screen before I can finish typing my answers. Then my phone rings. My son needs help navigating a hitch in his friend group — and I haven’t even pulled out of the driveway.
Welcome to my day. I’m honored to be the go-to for my crew’s latest question or crisis, but the emotional fatigue from constantly being needed is already sitting heavy in my stomach, along with my morning coffee.
