Parents provide the ‘safe spaces’ for their children

By Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher
Young Adults

There are many things that the parenting books fail to tell us. The most important aspect missing is the balance between parenting and other aspects of our lives.

Most of the time, having three young children means that there is never a dull or less-than-chaotic moment in my house. But, the biggest obstacle for me has been time.

We don’t have extra help. On the weekends, it’s all hands on deck as we care for the children, play and find things to do. During play, snacks and feeding, we’re surrounded by boxes that have yet to be unpacked from our move this summer.

And lurking – always – in the back of my head are the school-related duties that fall outside of classroom time and office hours: the grading, the feedback, the lesson planning.

It’s a constant battle: How do we find the time to get things done?

As more privileged people tell me, the answer is to hire help. One of my family members has, in fact, done that: On Saturdays, a sitter comes to watch the kids while the parents run errands or do house projects. That’s not in the cards for us.

And, of course, mom guilt eats away at my anxieties. The kids are in daycare during the weekday; weekends are supposed to be for family time. Or, as the twins like to yell loudly on Saturday morning: “Mommy-Daddy day! No school!”

Instead, we’ve resorted to figuring out priorities. Our Friday, at-home date nights consist of binge watching some series on one of the streaming platforms, a glass of wine and folding the never-ending mound of children’s clothing.

Saturday nights and nap times become devoted to unpacking one or two boxes, sorting through where things will go and what might need to be donated.

Even then, it feels like the mountain is only getting higher, the obstacle looming ever-larger. Because those are only the physical reminders of a life that gets pushed aside.

Parents of all ages tell us of the constant and invisible mental load that heavily weighs us down.

I don’t have any answers. Instead, I have empathy. I see in the exhausted faces of parents at the playground similar concerns. I see a fellow mother pushing the grocery cart through the store, trying to keep it all together while her child is pulling things off the shelf.

And, I also see the joy and delight of children looking back toward their parent, knowing that, while they may be at the top of the slide, careening into the open air, their safe space is right there, watching and waiting.

And, I suppose, in the end, that’s what matters.

As one of my twins ran headlong into the crowd at a recent fall festival to play on hay barrels, he glanced behind him, expecting to see me. But, I had gotten stuck in the sand while pushing the stroller, so I was slightly out of eyesight. When I looked up, I saw his almost-teary breakdown and called out to let him know where I was. His face lifted; he ran to play.

Because, after all, toddlerhood is just a season. And we, their parents, are their safe spaces. Their security blankets. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

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