The perpetual tidy: life with growing children, perimenopause and the hope that endures!
- Anne-Cecile Dingwall
- May 15
- 5 min read
There are moments when the mess feels endless. Abandoned socks lie twisted in the hallway. A half-finished craft project sprawls across the dining table. Dishes multiply with astounding speed. As parents, we find ourselves in a constant state of tidying, mentally drafting speeches (or perhaps issuing them aloud) on the virtues of picking up after oneself. And yet, the cycle repeats...
Will they ever truly integrate the idea that they need to tidy up? That their actions, however small, ripple through the household? I sometimes wonder if my husband and are whispering these lessons into the void — but then, there are glimmers. A book shelf that remains organised for more than a day. A crumpled towel hung back up without prompting. Small victories...yeah!
And yet, amid the fatigue and frustration, the question lurks: will we miss this one day?!
When the shoes are no longer kicked off carelessly at the door, when the echoes of laughter and squabbles have grown faint, when their rooms stand still and clean — will we long for the chaos? The thought of an empty nest tugs at the edges of our minds. But while the future is inevitable, the present remains ours to hold.
Finding energy in the here and now
In our forties, my husband and I are both in that strange in-between space — not quite young, not quite old. The demands of work, home and children are constant. And then there’s the shift happening within me. The ebb and flow of perimenopause — the waves of fatigue, the heightened emotions, the sudden craving for solitude — all add another layer to the already complex dance of motherhood.
There are days when the world feels too loud. The clutter in the house mirrors the clutter in my mind. The responsibilities stack up and I find myself yearning for a pocket of silence, a moment that is mine alone. And yet, finding that “me time” in a house that rarely sleeps is a challenge.
But what I’ve learned, slowly and sometimes painfully, is that acknowledging those needs doesn’t make me selfish. It makes me whole. And when I’m whole, I’m a better mother, a better partner, a better version of myself.
Speaking our needs out loud without guilt
We often carry so much silently — the mental load of remembering school projects, scheduling doctor’s appointments and ensuring everyone has clean socks. Add in the emotional turbulence of perimenopause and it’s no wonder we feel stretched thin. But the truth is, we don’t have to shoulder it alone.
There’s power in saying, “I need a break.” There’s grace in admitting that today is hard, that patience is running low, that tears might spill simply because the world feels too much. When we communicate these needs — to our partners, our children, our friends — we invite understanding. And in that understanding, we find support.
I’m learning to say, “I need a walk by myself,” without guilt. I’m reminding my children that I’m a person too, not just a provider of snacks and bedtime stories. I’m asking my partner for a little extra patience on the days when my body feels foreign. And in doing so, I’m modeling something important — that self-care isn’t indulgent. It’s essential.
Sharing what we do at home
Set Boundaries: I practice saying 'I need 10 minutes to myself' or 'the shop is closed for 10 minutes' when I feel I need a reset and I need some down time to be able to be my best self and give my undivided attention to each child.
Ask for Support: in my pre-menstrual phase or in period days, I delegate tasks without guilt. My husband and children can be of tremendous help. Sharing the load is not weakness - it's teamwork.
Raising resilient, responsible young adults
Responsibility doesn’t bloom overnight. We’re teaching our children — sometimes with patience, sometimes with exasperation — that being part of a family means contributing. Loading and unloading the dishwasher is not just a nuisance; it’s a reminder that we’re all in this household together. Folding laundry, sweeping floors and tidying toys aren’t punishments; they’re invitations to participate in the rhythm of life.
There are setbacks, of course. Moments when tempers flare, when words are sharper than we intend, when the sheer weight of it all feels unbearable. But then we breathe, we apologise, we try again. And we remember that resilience isn’t born from perfection — it’s forged in the messy, beautiful act of trying.
Sharing what we do at home
One-Minute Tasks: we ask each child to spend one minute tidying before dinner. It's a short, manageable request that reduces overwhelm.
Model the Behaviour: we tidy alongside our children, showing them it's a shared effort, not a punishment.
Building moments of joy into the chaos
Even on the days when the house looks like a tornado passed through, there is light. It’s in the giggles from the next room, the spontaneous hug from a child who still fits perfectly in your arms, the way the sunlight spills across the kitchen table during breakfast.
Love lives in the ordinary. It’s present in the scraped knees we kiss, the homework battles we endure, the bedtime questions that unravel the mysteries of the universe. Love is in the tidying — yes, even that — because it’s a sign that life is being lived here.
And as for us — the mothers balancing the shifting tides of hormones and the endless demands of family — there is light for us too. It’s in the deep conversations with friends who just get it, the cup of coffee sipped slowly before the chaos begins, the laughter shared with a partner who remembers who we are beneath all the roles we play.
So, will we regret these years? Perhaps not in the way we sometimes fear. When the nest is empty, we might miss the sound of feet pounding down the stairs, the Legos scattered underfoot, the persistent calls of “Mom!” and ''Dad''! But we’ll know that we were present. That we gave what we could, imperfectly and wholeheartedly. And that will be enough.
For now, there’s still time — time to guide, to grow, to rest, to love and yes, even to tidy. And in that time, there is hope.
Sharing what we do at home
Create 'no-device' zone: the dinner table is for screen-free conversations and bonding
Embrace the mess sometimes: a messy home is often a sign of joyful living - we have three young children and live in a tiny house so I know what it feels like though my husband would probably disagree with me on that one. I still believe that giving myself permission to let it be - not every battle needs to be fought, is the right thing to think once in a while!
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