Why Rest Looks Different as a Working Parent (And What Actually Works)
I've been thinking about rest all wrong, and I suspect every parent juggling multiple responsibilities has too.
Not the sleep kind of rest—though that's also complicated when you're mentally planning tomorrow's meals while your head hits the pillow. I mean the kind that happens when you're awake, the kind that's supposed to restore you but feels impossible to find when you're simultaneously managing tiny humans, building a business, and keeping a household running.
For years, I thought rest meant stopping completely, doing nothing, earning it through enough productivity to justify the pause. But last week I noticed something while testing a new recipe that shifted everything. For once, I wasn't thinking about whether the kids were too quiet in the next room or mentally writing my to-do list. I was just focused on the way the batter came together, the smell of vanilla, the simple satisfaction of creating something with my hands. My shoulders weren't hunched up around my ears for the first time in weeks.
I realized I'd been waiting for rest to happen to me instead of actively creating the conditions for it.
When you're constantly scanning—is that cry urgent or just whining? Did I respond to that client email? When did anyone last eat something green?—your brain doesn't automatically switch off just because you have a free moment.
I started tracking when my brain would actually quiet down. Not the poetic moments, but the functional ones. Chopping vegetables while the kids played nearby worked because the repetitive motion plus problem-solving (what to feed everyone) occupied the part of my mind that usually plans ahead. Standing in the shower for an extra minute worked because warm water was the only thing in my environment that wanted nothing from me.
The pattern: I needed to be actively engaged in something that used my brain differently than the constant triage, not trying to empty my mind completely.
The real problem: when you do get a rare window of quiet, you're too wired to use it. Your body doesn't remember how to stand down. Or the guilt kicks in immediately—you have twenty minutes while the kids are occupied, and you're mentally calculating whether you should prep tomorrow's ingredients, answer emails, or just sit. Even your rest time becomes another optimization problem.
What actually works: giving your brain a specific job that isn't monitoring anyone else. Testing a recipe while the kids eat lunch nearby. The drive to pick up ingredients with music playing. Washing dishes slowly, because it's the only task that doesn't require decisions about anyone else's needs.
The key is actively telling your brain "for the next 15 minutes, I'm not the person in charge" rather than hoping it figures that out on its own.
Rest when you're running everything isn't about finding perfect moments of peace. It's about actively clocking out of the role of "person in charge" for small windows of time, even if someone still needs you in the background.
Find a moment this week to give your brain a job that doesn't involve monitoring anyone else's needs. Even if it's just for the length of time it takes to make coffee, or stir a pot, or stand in your driveway before going back inside to everything that needs you.
