He jumps on top of you at 6am, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and somehow, no matter how tired you are, you find a smile for him. — 123rf
It's nearly the end of 2025 and of course I’m seeing the “top lists” of the year. Top songs. Top movies. Top books. I thought, hey, that’s a fun column, and then I realised I haven’t listened to any new music, I’ve read zero books this year, and if I made top 10 list of movies, the list would be seven movies long.
That is to say, like most people with kids, I’m juggling a career, my boy, and all the other stuff in between, which means, my top 10 list is: The Five Things I’ve learned Though Exhaustion (mostly against my will). (Yes, I can count, I’m just too tired to get beyond five.)
Free time isn’t free.
When you’re super busy, your free time isn’t free because you’re always thinking about all the other stuff you probably should be doing instead of doomscrolling and slouching so deep in the couch you’re giving yourself a neck injury.
A fellow dad was over on a playdate (not ours, our kids’) and he mentioned his wife and daughter had recently gone away for three days, leaving him alone for three whole days. My eyes went wide. Sleeping in? He nodded. Quiet lunch? He grinned. Just sitting on the couch with no chaos? He gave me a thumbs up. That’s the real free time.
Being needed is overrated.
Yes, I’m needed. Every morning at 6am my boy reminds me how needed I am when he stomps into the room, tosses himself on the bed, rolls onto his head and starts telling me he dreamt of dogs laughing at him, and then he asks me why, and I can only say, I have no clue, buddy.
I’m also apparently needed when I use the toilet. I’m sitting there for a few minutes of quiet. And there’s my boy knocking on the door, he needs me. Then I come out and he grins and runs away. Yes, being needed isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Most people give you advice assuming you have energy that you do not, in fact, have.
Get out of my feed all you lifestyle influencers in your early 30s telling me what you’ve learned now that you’re getting old. People saying get a good work out in. Eat healthy. Get eight hours of sleep. Take time to meditate. Yeah, do all that stuff with a kid.
I’d love to work out but I’ve been up since 6am building boats out of bread with my son and when I get any “free time” (see above), I’m going to spend it sleeping with a pillow over my crotch to prevent being woken up by a crotch punch. Eat healthy? At this point I’m eating anything I can for a quick hit of dopamine. And meditate? Ha! Enjoy your mediating with a kid poking your shut eyes with his grubby finger.
Your kid doesn’t need the best version of you – but it would help.
Yeah, my boy doesn’t need me to be perfect. He just needs his dad there for him. And I’m there. Cursing in the closet when I hit my head and my boy is at the age where he quickly notes “You said the F word!” to which I tell him, I muttered it which is different than saying, but I understand what he means.
Then he’s telling it to the neighbours and also starting to practice saying it with an elongated F noise, which I always stop but, man, it’s tiring.
My boy does a lot of crazy stuff. Stuff I think I probably should police but when he’s doing crazy stuff at the speed of light, it’s hard to police it all. So mostly I sit back and if he’s not bugging anyone or causing damage I’m not insured for, I try to let it go. Maybe I’m not the best, but I’m there. Give me a participation trophy.
No matter how heavy life feels, your child still believes today can be the best day.
I took my boy to Canada to spend time with his grandparents and my wife stayed in Singapore for work. It was 30 days of just me and my boy. Every day was exhausting. By bedtime, I was aching just to doomscroll and give myself a neck injury (see above), and every morning the little monkey woke up way too early, pressing his head into me, and I would pry my eyes open from much needed sleep and he would be smiling quietly. Just happy to get started. On whatever chaos he needed to perform. Eager for life. And so I would get up, rub him on the head, and say “Let’s go”.
The thing about being exhausted and burnt out when you have kids is, they smile at you once, and you’re ready to burn yourself out all over again.
