Posted by Natasha Red on March 8, 2025
Let’s talk about weekends. Remember when weekends meant relaxation? Spontaneous brunches? Maybe a movie or sleeping in past 7 AM? Yeah, me neither. Those memories have been replaced by what I now call “workends” – those precious 48 hours when I don’t have my paying job but somehow work harder than I do all week.
Here’s what my “time off” actually looked like this weekend. Spoiler alert: there was no time off.
Saturday Morning: The Sports Shuffle
6:15 AM: Woken up by Lily jumping on my stomach asking if it’s “soccer day.” It is, in fact, soccer day – along with basketball day and swimming lesson day. Mark and I lie in bed negotiating who takes which kid where like we’re dividing assets in a divorce.
7:30 AM: Making breakfast while simultaneously filling water bottles, finding shin guards, and explaining to Jake why he can’t wear flip-flops to basketball practice. Emma emerges from her room looking like she’s been awake for hours, fully dressed in her team uniform, and asks why we’re running late.
8:45 AM: Drop Emma at basketball. Check the email I got from her coach last night and realize I was supposed to bring snacks for the entire team today. Panic, text five other moms asking if anyone can cover, then drive to the nearest grocery store while Jake complains that we’re going to be late for his practice.
9:30 AM: Jake is late to basketball. I blame traffic. The coach gives me that look that says, “You’re that mom.” I want to explain about the forgotten snacks and the missing shin guards and how I’ve been awake since a toddler used my internal organs as a trampoline, but instead I just smile apologetically and retreat to sit with the other parents, none of whom seem as frazzled as I feel.
10:15 AM: Leave Jake’s practice early to deliver emergency oranges and granola bars to Emma’s game. Mark texts that Lily is having a meltdown at soccer because her sock seam “feels funny.” I suggest turning the sock inside out, which apparently makes me a genius because it works.
12:30 PM: All three kids collected from their respective sports. Everyone is hungry NOW and can’t possibly wait the 15 minutes it takes to get home. Stop for drive-through where we spend $47 on food that disappears in minutes.
Saturday Afternoon: The Chore Marathon
1:30 PM: Home again. I survey the disaster that is our house and make the tactical decision to ignore it temporarily because Lily needs a nap, Jake has homework, and Emma needs to be driven to her friend’s house for a study session that I strongly suspect involves TikTok and zero studying.
2:45 PM: With Lily finally asleep and Jake grudgingly working on math, I start the weekend cleaning frenzy. Three loads of laundry, two bathrooms, and one kitchen later, I realize I haven’t checked my work email since yesterday and feel a twinge of anxiety.
4:00 PM: Quick email check turns into 45 minutes of putting out small work fires while standing at the kitchen counter. Jake interrupts every 7 minutes with homework questions that make me question whether I ever actually learned fifth-grade math.
5:30 PM: Mark returns with Emma and starts dinner while I finish folding laundry and FaceTime my mom, who asks if we’re “doing anything fun this weekend.” I laugh so hard I wake up Lily, who is cranky from her too-long nap and now won’t sleep tonight.
Saturday Evening: The Social Obligation
7:00 PM: We’re supposed to be at our neighbors’ house for dinner by now. Instead, we’re still at home where Jake suddenly remembers a permission slip that needs signing, printing, and scanning for a field trip on Monday. Emma can’t find her “good” jeans, and Lily has decided that she will only wear her swimsuit to dinner, nothing else.
7:45 PM: Arrive at neighbors’ house with semi-presentable children and a store-bought dessert I’m pretending I had time to make. Their house is immaculate with white furniture. They have one perfectly behaved child who is already in pajamas and will be asleep by 8:30. I immediately spill red wine on myself.
10:30 PM: Home again. Children overtired and wound up from socializing. Bedtime routine takes twice as long as usual. Mark falls asleep on Lily’s floor while reading her third bedtime story.
11:45 PM: Finally alone. Consider watching a show or reading a book or having an actual conversation with Mark, who has relocated to our bed. Instead, I spend 30 minutes meal planning for the week and making an online grocery order. Fall asleep with my phone on my face.
Sunday Morning: The Illusion of Leisure
7:00 AM: Jake and Lily are up and have decided to “make breakfast” which means every mixing bowl we own is now dirty and there’s pancake batter on the ceiling. I’m actually impressed by their initiative until I step in syrup.
9:30 AM: Mark takes all three kids to the park so I can have “me time.” I spend it cleaning the kitchen, finishing the laundry, and prepping lunches for the week ahead. I also shower without interruption, which feels so luxurious I almost cry.
11:00 AM: Family returns from the park. Jake has a scraped knee, Emma is mad because she’s too old for parks, and Lily has found a collection of rocks she insists are “special” and need to be washed immediately in the sink I just cleaned.
Sunday Afternoon: The Birthday Party Circuit
12:30 PM: Emma has a friend’s birthday party at the mall. Drop her off with a gift we bought weeks ago but I forgot to wrap, so it’s in a Target bag with a card Emma filled out in the car.
1:15 PM: Take Jake and Lily to a different birthday party at a trampoline park where I spend $25 on socks with grips that we will lose before the next trampoline party. Make small talk with parents I know from school while monitoring Lily, who believes she’s invincible and tries to do flips despite not being able to do a somersault.
3:30 PM: Both parties ending. Mark picks up Emma while I handle the extraction of Jake and Lily, who are now sweaty, overtired, and have acquired goodie bags full of candy and tiny toys designed specifically to be stepped on in the middle of the night.
Sunday Evening: The Week Ahead Looms
5:00 PM: Sunday dinner is always a proper family meal in theory. In reality, it’s a hodgepodge of leftovers while I quiz Emma on her spelling words, sign Jake’s reading log that he “forgot” about all weekend, and try to find Lily’s favorite stuffed animal that’s necessary for sleep and has mysteriously vanished.
6:30 PM: Bath time for the younger two while Emma showers. Realize we’re out of clean towels despite doing laundry all weekend. Use beach towels and make a mental note to do more laundry tomorrow, somehow, between work and life.
7:45 PM: Kids in bed earlier than usual because everyone’s exhausted. Mark and I collapse on the couch and look at each other. “Productive weekend?” he asks. I laugh until I’m crying, or maybe I’m just crying.
8:30 PM: Spend an hour prepping for the work week. Check the family calendar and realize we have dentist appointments, a teacher conference, and Emma’s science project due all within the next five days. Consider calling in sick to work for the rest of my life.
10:00 PM: Finally in bed. Set alarm for 5:30 AM. Mentally run through all the things I didn’t get done this weekend and add them to the never-ending list in my head. Wonder if other moms feel this constant sense of falling behind or if they’ve discovered some secret to having it all together that I missed.
11:00 PM: Just as I’m falling asleep, remember I forgot to switch the laundry to the dryer. Again. Decide it can wait until morning. Everything can wait until morning, except sleep. Sleep can’t wait another minute.
And that, friends, is the reality of a working mom’s weekend. No spa days. No binge-watching Netflix. Just a 48-hour marathon of meeting everyone else’s needs while trying to prepare for the week ahead.
But you know what? Despite the chaos, there were moments—Jake figuring out his math problem and beaming with pride, Lily’s face lighting up when she jumped higher than ever at the trampoline park, Emma actually hugging me goodbye at her friend’s party instead of being embarrassed by my existence. Those tiny slivers of joy somehow make the exhaustion worth it.
So here’s to another week ahead. May your coffee be strong, your children’s drama be minimal, and may someone else remember to switch the laundry to the dryer.
What does your “workend” look like? Comment below – we’re all in this together!
Natasha Red somehow writes this blog between the hours of 11 PM and never-getting-enough-sleep o’clock. When she’s not juggling work, kids, and the illusion of having a clean house, she can be found hiding in her car eating chocolate she doesn’t have to share.
