I thought by 41 I’d be sleeping more.

Not a lot more. I’m not greedy.

Just… enough to wake up without feeling like I’d been lightly assaulted by my own responsibilities.

Instead, it’s only Tuesday and I’ve already lived a full documentary.

One kid was at school at 6:30 a.m. for color guard.

Not practice life.

She didn’t finish school and practice until 9 p.m., which feels illegal for a minor but here we are.

Another kid is deeply invested in whether McDonald’s will give him a raise while simultaneously pretending his college applications are “basically handled.” (They are not. They are vibes-based.)

Meanwhile, I’m proofing a book to publish final edits, cover decisions, the kind of choices that require brain cells I used up in 2009.

Add work.

Add normal mom crap.

Add emotional whack-a-mole.

Stir.

Serve cold.

And listen I love my life. I really do.

But no one warned me about the overlap years.

What Are the Overlap Years?

The overlap years are when:

• your teens still need you desperately

• your adult kids are launching but keep circling back like confused boomerangs

• your younger kids are still feral

• your body has opinions

• your ambitions didn’t die like everyone said they would

It’s not the baby years.

It’s not the empty nest.

It’s everything at once.

You are simultaneously:

• a chauffeur

• an emotional support human

• a project manager

• a short-order cook

• a crisis counselor

• and somehow expected to “work on yourself”

Ma’am. When.

I Thought 40 Came With Freedom

I truly believed that by this age I’d be:

• sleeping in

• doing unhinged but chic things

• maybe disappearing to Europe

• definitely not tracking Google calendars like a federal agent

Instead, my midlife crisis is:

• cold coffee

• unread emails

• and wondering how everyone else needs me at the same exact minute

I didn’t want chaos at 41.

I wanted wine with no explanation.

The Lie No One Tells Moms

Everyone says:

“It gets easier.”

No.

It gets different.

The overlap years aren’t easier. They’re heavier but quieter.

There’s no baby shower. No congratulations. No “you’re doing great.”

Just you, holding everyone’s timeline together with caffeine and spite.

And if you feel tired?

You’re not lazy.

You’re not failing.

You’re not crazy.

You’re in the middle.

If You’re Here Too…

If you’re a mom in this season

tired, capable, laughing a little too hard at dark jokes

this is your permission slip to stop wondering what’s wrong with you.

Nothing is wrong with you.

You’re just parenting and launching and surviving and still dreaming.

No one warned us about the overlap years.

But if you’re here?

Yeah. Same.

And honestly

if there is a padded cell with snacks and no one calling your name?

Tell them I’ll be late. I have carpool.