Quarterly Meltdown: When Do I Stop?

Anybody else have a quarterly meltdown? You know the one — where you’re crying so hard

snot bubbles are popping out of your nose, braless under a misshapen t-shirt because everything feels too tight, and you’re overstimulated because everywhere you look is a mess… the same mess you’ve been cleaning for what feels like your whole life that day?

It’s like I’m stuck on a loop, doing the same things over and over again. The toys scattered across the floor I just vacuumed, the socks that somehow multiply under the couch, the dishes that never seem to be done. Meanwhile, the cashier at Dollar General smiles and says, “You’ve got your hands full,” while the guy behind me chuckles, “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”

That one — “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it” — that’s the line that gets me every time. Usually, I mutter to myself that I stay home and not to worry about me blinking, because I haven’t slept through the night in eleven years, so I’m definitely not going to miss anything. But deep down, I wrestle with this nagging fear that somehow, I am missing it.

And honestly, that’s where the meltdown really comes from: the fear that I’m so busy keeping up with the laundry, dishes, cleaning, and endless picking up that I’m missing the very moments I’m supposed to treasure. The ones everyone warns me will fly by.

And yet — let’s be real — it doesn’t matter how many times I put those shoes away. Jack is going to pull them out again five minutes later and clomp around in my Hey Dudes having the time of his life.

So today, I’m going to try something different. I’m setting a timer on my trusty (and slightly scratched) smartwatch. Every time I start tidying or cleaning, the timer goes on. When I hit 2.5 hours of cleaning? That’s it. I’m done. The rest of the day is reserved for my kids — for coloring messy giraffes, for playing Candyland even though I can’t stand it, for snuggling on the couch with picture books.

And if 2.5 hours isn’t up by 8 p.m.? That’s my cutoff anyway.

This isn’t really advice — I haven’t tried this yet. But maybe you’re feeling this too. Maybe your meltdown looks like mine, and maybe you’re also wondering when to stop. So I invite you to try this with me.

And if it doesn’t work? If by tomorrow my house is a disaster and the shoes are all over the floor again, we can meet back here — bleary-eyed and over-caffeinated — and remind each other that it was a good idea in theory.

Because sometimes that’s all motherhood is: doing our best, trying something new, and knowing we’re not alone in the mess.