The Invisible Workload: A Beach Scene I Can’t Shake

I saw her before I even sat down.

One mom, three bags and two towels slung over one shoulder, a snack container clutched between her teeth, and a beach umbrella dragging like a limp noodle behind her. She had that determined shuffle all moms perfect—half power-walk, half don’t-drop-the-baby jog. Her face was flushed, her tank top clung in all the wrong places, and she hadn’t even gotten to sit down yet.

Dad? He was already in the ocean. Chest-deep, grinning, coaching one kid to ride the waves like an Olympic coach. “Come in, Babe!” he called, like he didn’t see the baby strapped to her chest and the four-year-old covered in Cheeto dust trying to throw sand at a seagull or chase the crab that has suddenly emerged from his underground oasis.

Grandma and Grandpa were parked under the umbrella, smiling. Probably thinking about how cute their grandkids are and how lucky they are to be in their watch-but-don’t-touch era. Grandpa adjusted his chair. Grandma opened a paperback. Neither moved a muscle when a juice box exploded three feet from them.

I sat there quietly, pretending to read while sipping my iced drink, but I was watching her.

The mom. Doing all the things.

She spread the towels, wiped faces, applied sunscreen like it was a contact sport, and tried to keep sand out of the snacks (spoiler alert: impossible). Her “vacation” looked like a full-time job… just with more sand causing discomfort and fewer boundaries. She reminded the toddler not to pee on the sand, reminded Dad to not take their other kid too far into the water, reminded Grandma and Grandpa to drink enough water and finally reminded herself to breathe.

And not once did she get in the water. She looked at it longingly, even walked to the edge to take the toddler to Dad. But she never got in

She didn’t sit down for more than two minutes without being called, poked, needed or summoned. She didn't throw a kid in the air or sip anything cold while it was still cold. Her ham sandwich was overtaken by the eldest. She made sure Grandma and Grandpa had their choice of favorite beverages. Her joy was quiet—the smile she gave when her kid shared a shovel, the exhale when no one was crying for 45 seconds.

She was still the default parent. On vacation.

Watching her hit me harder than expected. Because how many moms are just like her? Holding the whole ship together—packing the snacks, keeping the schedule, watching the clock so no one misses naps or melts into a puddle? How many of us are out there, holding it all, while the rest of the family is “making memories”?

And here’s the thing: she didn’t look mad. Not outwardly, anyway. But there was a tightness to her movements, a clenched jaw that gave her away. A silent sigh that maybe only I heard. A woman trying to be grateful for the moment while also silently screaming, “Does anyone else see me?! I want to have fun, too.”

I saw her.

I hope someday she gets a beach day where she doesn’t have to be the lifeguard, the camp counselor, and the human snack bar. I hope someone else packs the bags, wipes the faces and reminds her to go play.

Because she deserves to be in the water, too.

Hi! I’m MacKenzie, your Self-Care Mompanion

I’m a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and owner of Follow Your Arrow Counseling, LLC and Middle Path Wellness Collective, LLC. I specialize in working with Moms and who are stressed out, overwhelmed and not taking care of themselves as well as they take care of everyone else. I call it the “Mother Load.”

Being a Mom is hard. There are some days I really don’t like it, to be honest. Thank goodness there are other moments when my daughter tells me I’m her best friend that make up for all the crappy days.

Join me as we walk this road of motherhood together. It truly takes a village to raise our kids and maintain our sanity.