i think i'm cosplaying tess coleman

“Can you guys, like, chill, for a sec?” I yelled the vaguely familiar phrase over my shoulder as I was scavenging in my wardrobe for clothes acceptable enough to wear out of the house.

The sun wasn’t even up, but my almost 6-year-old and almost 2-year-old were already running around the house screaming at the top of their lungs.

I could already feel the weight of having to manage everything. Having to be the one to get everyone changed, presentable, teeth brushed, fed, clean, out of the house, and buckled in the car on time despite all protests or attempts at distraction that would certainly ensue.

It’s a weight that probably sounds familiar to many moms and primary parents out there. When you’re the person tracking and managing everything, “fun” becomes the last thing on your mind. It feels almost irresponsible to have even a moment of joy when your children are causing a ruckus you will likely have to clean up.

Finally, after a chaotic morning, we made it out of the house and to school on time. I felt the knot in my chest loosen just a bit. I kept wondering where that phrase had come from, and finally Googled it. Freaky Friday! The epic 2003 one with Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis. The teenager is in the mom’s body and says it.

GIF of Tess Coleman saying “could you like chill for a sec?”

I almost gasped out loud when I figured that out. As much as I love that movie, I had to ask myself… When had I become Tess Coleman?

I am studying to become a therapist. I start my practicum in just a few months. I have young kids. I’m the (self-promoted) “manager” of the family. I don’t understand my son’s sense of humor when he’s talking about poop, or 6-7 insert wild hand motions here. I haven’t yelled “make good choices” out of the car as he gets into school, but I’m not far off.

The thing is… I’ve lost touch with my younger self. The part of me that used to have fun. Everything feels so serious when you’re a parent. For some reason, I’ve adopted the belief that constant vigilance is the best way to show love for my family.

That belief is eating me alive and turning me into someone I’m not. (No shade, Tess Coleman’s cool, but she’s not me. I’m clearly more like her when Anna’s in her body.)

The problem is that I don’t remember how to “let go” and have fun. This is something I’ve been working on with my therapist for a long time, and seeing it in this new light is mildly alarming. Fun isn’t supposed to feel like work. So why does it?

I’ve sat and thought about this a lot today. I read some articles and cracked open some of the books I’ve read that touch on this subject. It all goes back to the mental load discussion and the expectations I’ve absorbed that aren’t my own.

This starts so small. And it’s so easy to absorb these expectations without even realizing it. A comment here, an innocently funny reel there, something you see another mom doing that makes you feel a little jealous or inferior… It all seems so inconsequential, but it’s adding up in your mind.

For example, my son and I made it to one of his classmates’ birthday parties a few weeks ago. It was the first birthday party we’ve actually been able to make it to, and one of the moms said, “Good for you, only going to one party so far!” I just stared at her. Was she keeping count? I had only met her a handful of times. Did I miss a memo, a spreadsheet that keeps track, or something?

The other things that come to mind are the Instagram reels and Pinterest ideas for your children, like taping balloons to a closed door on their birthday, having an indoor playground, setting out traps for leprechauns, making their snacks themed or cut into little flowers, or planning the perfect party.

Consuming all this content adds up quickly, and it’s easy to fall into the trap of comparison.

There’s a line where helpful parenting content becomes harmful. It sets an invisible, completely unattainable standard for “good parenting” that you constantly measure yourself against.

You start to wonder, should I be cutting his cucumbers into flower shapes? Should I be recording everything he says to turn into a memory book? Should I limit his screen time to 30 minutes per day?

Anyway, after realizing today that I’m basically cosplaying Tess Coleman, I realized the most imperative thing I can do for myself and my family is to drop the constant vigilance. It’s exhausting me and turning me into someone who is… no fun.

But… how? When I search for ways to “care for myself,” the ideas are tailored content suggestions like bubble baths or other things I can buy that will most certainly make me feel like “me” again. (That was sarcasm. I’ve tried a lot of bubble baths, and while they can be relaxing, they aren’t a magical cure.)

I’m still figuring that part out, but I have a feeling this may be when I need to stop looking for ideas online and start turning inward and listening to my own intuition about what sounds fun. I need to start listening to myself to figure out what matters to me as a parent, a wife, a homeowner, a student, a therapist-to-be, and myself.