Like most women I know, I’m tired–so, so tired.

So How Tired is So Tired?

A few months ago, I had to prep for a colonoscopy, and as unpleasant as this experience is–as anyone who has done this so (so) knows–I clearly remember thinking: man, it feels good to sit down.

All I could do that night was nothing.

I felt an enveloping (and unexpected) sense of pure, utter relief at the prospect of hours before me during which I could tend to nothing, improve nothing, fold nothing, or put away nothing.

During this down time, I realized that save for sleeping and a few other instances (my uncle’s funeral, being stuck in gridlock traffic, and a mean stomach bug), I haven’t really done nothing since my daughter was born over three years ago.

Now, it’s true that since my late teens, I’ve been on the go, taking on more than I maybe should, filling up every nook and cranny of my life with something.

But, prior to becoming a mother, if I needed to check out for an evening, I could. So, it isn’t so much that I’m busier now juggling all of my various roles (though, OK, I totally am), it’s that it’s almost impossible for me to catch my breath in between.

I seemed to have lost my blank spaces–my mental margins.

What, then, I wondered, is filling up those spaces once reserved for relaxing, rebooting, and replenishing?

It’s called invisible work. It’s constant. It’s real. And it’s why you and I are so exhausted: all. the. time.

The Weight of Invisible Work

Invisible work* is made up of the many, many mental tasks that we as women (all women) compute monthly, weekly, daily, hourly, and by the minute.

It is the sequence of invisible steps (sometimes dozens of invisible steps) we each take to accomplish whatever it is we need to accomplish.

Invisible work includes keeping a mental tab not only on everyone’s schedules, but also on things like RSVPs, school supplies, and snack duty (see my mom fail here).

It includes keeping on top of clothes and shoes that are worn out, suddenly too small, or out of season. It includes things like remembering to treat stains before they set in, and to drop off the dry-cleaning (oh, and also to pick up the dry cleaning).

It includes things like birthday plans for yourself, your spouse, your children, and other people’s children; remembering to send thank you cards; making vacation arrangements; scheduling, keeping, and canceling doctor appointments; juggling the gazillion particulars of extracurriculars; and knowing where things (all of them) are.

Invisible work includes remembering what you need other people to remember.

Invisible work is the reason why right now you are wondering how you are going to get everything done for Christmas.

This time of year, invisible work is the dozen of steps you take to arrive at the end goal of sending Christmas cards (arranging photo shoots, clothes, props; editing and ordering; addressing envelopes, buying stamps).

It is the dozen of steps you take to arrive at the end goal of giving presents to just about, well, everyone.

It is figuring out what will positively delight your children and then–with a smile– handing over most of the credit (along with some freshly baked cookies) to a guy in a too-tight red suit being driven around in a chauffeured sleigh.

And this is to say nothing of the many mental tasks you complete prior to actually decking the halls, decorating the tree, and hosting dinner or brunch.

Invisible work includes knowing when the dental floss/toilet paper/garbage bags/gummie vitamins are almost gone.

It also includes coordinating social plans, making child-care arrangements for said social plans, and remembering when books from the library are due (which, of course, presumes arranging library visits in the first place).

Invisible work includes knowing what groceries need to be bought, from where, and by when. It includes remembering to bring the sunscreen and to apply it.

It includes keeping track of coupons, discount codes, and sales. And their expiration dates.

And don’t get me started on the bags. Oh, the bags: the school bags, the lunch bags, the gym bags, the work bags, and the swim bags. Invisible work means knowing what needs to go in them, what needs to come out of them, not to mention remembering to bring them at all.

Invisible work also includes the extraordinary emotional investment we make in those whom we call family. You can’t see it–but you can feel it.

Invisible work is the mental glue we use to piece together and give motion to increasingly complex lives–our own, those of our children, and often our spouse’s.

Invisible work is piled on top of the visible work we do and the careers we pursue.

And–here’s the real kicker– invisible work goes totally unnoticed UNLESS we don’t do it.

I See You

I know you don’t want a trophy. I know you (mostly) wouldn’t have it any other way. But what I can do–what we all can do–is see one another.

So hear me when I say this: I see you, mama.

I see you remembering what to put in the bag.

I see you calculating the time you need in between your child’s dentist appointment and her ballet lesson.

I see you juggling that ever-evolving grocery store/Target/Amazon/drug store list in your head.

I see you thinking about what would be an appropriate and thoughtful Christmas gift for your child’s teacher. In October.

I see you deliberating between saving time or saving money– often, many times in one day.

I see you scanning the parking lot for your car because, frankly, this parking lot looks a lot like the one you were in yesterday and the one you were in the day before yesterday.

I see you counting days backward on your calendar to be certain the invites arrive in the mail on time.

I see you pondering the merits of piano lessons and ascertaining whether that cough necessitates a trip to the doctor.

I see you figuring out if you have time to shave your legs/wash your hair before the baby wakes up or to pick up cat food before you have to get your kiddos at school.

I see you calibrating and re-calibrating your schedule based on someone else’s schedule.

I see you worrying about whom to call to babysit next month when you go to that work dinner thing with your spouse.

I see you mulling over the benefits vs. the risks of the flu shot.

I see you second-guessing your decision about the flu shot.

I see you brainstorming Halloween costumes. In August (or the night before).

I see you judging milk levels, toothbrush bristles, and soles of small shoes.

I see you digesting the guilt of leaving your children to go to work.

I see you digesting the guilt of leaving work to get your children.

I see you tallying how many school pictures to order and how many apples to buy for lunch next week.

I see you wondering if today is too soon to buy apples for lunch next week.

I see you silently praying for your child’s safety. And health. And happiness.

I see you exhausted, beyond exhausted at 7 pm every night, feeling so, so grateful for a life that is so stunningly beautiful it sometimes takes your breath away, and yet wondering how in the world (how in the world?) you are going to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again, knowing–fully knowing— that you will.

I see the countless things you do that no one–other than us–even knows exist as things that need to be done.

I see you doing all of these things that need to be done while you are sitting in the chair at the dentist, watching Netflix, or stuck in gridlock traffic. I see you doing all these things while you are tending to other things, improving other things, folding and putting away other things.

I see you doing all of these invisible things that need to be done while you are also being a teacher, a CEO, a designer, an artist, a scientist, a nurse, a doctor, an accountant, or a stay-at-home mom (which really just means you are a little bit of all of these things–minus the paycheck and lunch break).

I see you: burdened by the weight of invisible things. I see you doing your best on any given day, mama. I want you to know: I see you. -m.

Finding info about this sculpture proved nearly impossible. Thank you to my Rainbow Preschool mama friend for sharing it with me. The little that I was able to find out is that it is a new installation somewhere in Spain. It may or may not be called “The Weight of a Mother’s Shoulders” or “A Mother’s Love.” But no matter really, because if you think about it–these two are one in the same.

*I can’t take credit for this observation about the invisible workload of mothers, though I do argue that this invisible work is a the burden of all women–not just mothers. Credit belongs to blogger Erin Pepler of The Scary Mommy. For more on the invisible workload of mothers, see her post here.