Fake Resting and Real Tired

I’m currently reading Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist. It’s a terrific read for women and especially moms. Tired moms.

One part really stood out to me, about what she calls “fake resting”.

Women are good at fake resting. Again, moms especially. We tend to be responsible moms and tired moms.

On weekends or evenings or even during vacations, the moms are the ones who will be tidying up the house, preparing the meals, cleaning up afterward, finishing up that last load of laundry, or making plans for tomorrow.

It’s like this little graph below, of what “I’m going to bed” means for the wife as opposed to the husband:

I laugh at the above list, but I also nod in agreement. It’s so true! And it makes for a tired mom.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve said something like, “I’m really tired; I’m going to bed early” and invariably end up in bed long after my husband because there’s always “one last thing” to do.

Here’s what Shauna Niequist writes about it:

This is what I call fake-resting. I’m wearing pajamas. The kids are watching cartoons, snuggling under blankets, eating waffles. Aaron [Shauna’s husband] is reading or sleeping. It looks like I’m resting, too. But I’m not. I’m ticking down an endless list, sometimes written, always mental, getting things back into their right spots, changing the laundry, wiping down the countertops.

Some might say this is being a mother, or a homemaker, or this is what women have been doing for generations: tending to the home stuff while men and children go about their leisure. Maybe so, but this woman and mom is exhausted. And tired of being exhausted.

So I fake-rested on Saturday, and then again on Sunday. The kids and Aaron napped. They played with Legos and went to bed early. They watched movies and ate leftover pumpkin pie. And I caught up on emails and ordered Christmas presents and cleaned out a closet and started packing for an upcoming trip.

I fake-rested instead of real-rested, and then I found that I was real-tired. It feels ludicrous to be a grown woman, a mother, still learning how to rest. But here I am, baby stepping to learn something kids know intuitively.

Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for resting your body and your soul. And part of being an adult is learning how to meet your own needs, because when it comes down to it, with a few exceptions, no one else is going to do it for you. …

We … want to be seen as flexible, tough, roll-with-anything kinds of women. And this ends up keeping us from asking for what we need, for fear of being labeled difficult or diva-ish. But what good is it doing to me to have people think I’m laid back and flexible … when really that cherished reputation keeps me tangled up, needs unmet, voice silenced?

Shauna Niequist, Present Over Perfect

Thankfully(?), I have a husband who’s a bit of an over-achiever. What I mean by this is, at least I don’t need to be resentful of him sleeping or reading while I’m working … he’s working, too.

It’s Saturday, and with us both being self-employed, weekends are the times to catch up on all the things.

Sometimes it’s good for at least one of the partners to be good at real-resting, to encourage the other one to slow down a bit.

We’re both good at fake-resting … or, not resting at all.

But Shauna’s point is one I need to keep in mind: “Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for resting your body and your soul.”

Is this something you also struggle with?

Are you a tired mom or are you taking responsibility for resting your body and soul?

We tired moms are good at taking responsibility for all the other things. The laundry and the lunches, the meals and the dishes, the schedules and the drop-offs.

But maybe we need to adjust our priorities if those long lists of ours never have “rest” in the middle or at the end.

Maybe we tired moms need to do some real-resting instead of fake-resting so we won’t end up perpetually real-tired and unable to connect with the deep parts of ourselves or connect more deeply with others from the best parts of ourselves.