*bzzz* “Please send in more clothes.”

I was out when the message from daycare flashed across my screen. I was supposed to be enjoying my day off (at least that’s what my out of office said), but that didn’t actually mean I was “off.” Because when you’re the default parent, you’re never truly off.

This one message was simple enough on its own, but when factored into the overall picture, it was…

One more thing.

A week ago, my car was hit while it was parked on the street. Thankfully no one was injured, and there didn’t appear to be any major damage to the car. It didn’t seem like a big deal.

Until it became my deal.

Insurance calls. New car seats. Auto body shop research. Scheduling repairs. Figuring out the rental. Dragging a baby along for all of it because there isn’t always another option.

All of this around work, daycare and nap schedules.

That’s when it hit me just like it always does: It’s always one more f*cking thing. But there is no such thing as just one thing when you’re the default parent.

When you’re the default parent, it’s not the big moments that totally crush you. It’s the mundane ones that seem simple enough, but send you into a spiral.

If my daughter needed more clothes, that was simple enough. Except that likely meant her current outfit was somehow wet, meaning laundry (more laundry).

I’d have to see what clothes are already clean (or do a load of laundry tonight). Then figure out what still fits because somehow she grew again. Then label everything with her name. Then remember to put it in her backpack instead of leaving it folded on the kitchen counter.

This pattern shows up everywhere for the default parent.

It’s remembering the pediatrician appointment that needs to be rescheduled while also remembering the work deadline, the grocery list, the fact that you’re almost out of wipes (and probably diapers), and that everyone needs new shoes soon but you don’t know when you’ll have time to figure it what size you need now.

These things aren’t hard. But every “one thing” is made up of other “one things”.

This is the mental load people talk about, but I don’t think “mental load” fully captures it.

It’s more like being the operating system for your family.

You’re constantly running in the background, processing information no one else even realizes exists. Anticipating problems before they happen. Keeping track of who needs what, when, where, and how. Updating the mental checklist that never actually gets checked off because new items are added faster than old ones disappear.

That’s why hearing, “Just tell me what needs to be done,” can feel so infuriating.

Because figuring out what needs to be done is the work.

The work is remembering. It’s planning. It’s following up.

The laundry isn’t just laundry. The grocery store isn’t just groceries. The daycare clothes aren’t just daycare clothes.

No one sees the mental checklist running in the background or the hundreds of tiny decisions made before breakfast. They only see that everything somehow gets taken care of.

Until one day, one more thing lands on your plate, and you realize it was never just one more thing.

It was everything attached to it.

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