You made it through the holidays. You made it through the winter. You made it through the slow crawl of February and March and the false promise of spring. And then May showed up and somehow your calendar looks like December exploded on it.

Field trips. Teacher appreciation week. Spring concerts. End of year parties. Volunteer sign-ups you said yes to in September when May felt very far away. Final projects. Sports banquets. Graduation ceremonies for every grade level apparently. Summer camp deadlines that were due last month. And underneath all of it, the regular stuff — the job, the dinners, the laundry, the kids who still need to be places at specific times regardless of how many things are also happening.

Welcome to Maycember. You know exactly what this is.

You love your husband. You also sent that meme. Both things are true and you do not owe anyone an explanation for either one.

The Barbie covering her ears. The eye roll. The group chat that just says “men” with zero context because honestly, what more is there to say. You have been there. You might be there right now, somewhere between folding laundry that is not yours and answering a question your family absolutely could have Googled, but didn’t, because you were right there.

This is not about your husband specifically. Or your dad. Or your brother who genuinely means well and still somehow makes everything harder. This is about the accumulation. The sheer, relentless accumulation of it.

You have managed a schedule, mediated a conflict, answered seventeen questions before 9am, remembered the permission slip, rescheduled the appointment, and kept approximately four other people's lives running on time. And yet, standing in front of the refrigerator at 6pm, you cannot make one more decision to save your life.