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Three little ones moving through the day in different directions - one declaring he’s bored (because his toys are at home), one toddling around grabbing everything within reach, and one still so tiny, needing constant care and calm.
Their dad is holding the fort from afar - working whilst we hold the kids.
Their mum is here - squeezing in moments to breathe between feeds, spills, and cuddles. She gave birth to baby number three less than three months ago.
Her daughter is 18 months, her eldest is five and in full ‘curious-question-asking’ mode.
Her hands (and heart) are more than full ….. and her energy tank?
Let’s just say the light’s been blinking empty/low for a while.
And me?
I’m the grandmother.
I’m here to help with wiping noses, finding missing socks, holding the baby, prepping meals, answering the occasional work message… I’m just doing what I can, when I can, but I’m also running a business, and, oh yes, I’m also trying to arrange the repatriation of my 91-year-old mother from Spain to the Netherlands.
We decided to make the most of it here in Spain whilst navigating it all, and I thought I might get a bit of a holiday out of it, you know, a change of scenery, maybe even a moment to rest… but I’ve let go of that idea now.
Trying to force it to feel like a holiday only makes it harder. This isn’t rest, it’s real life, just in a warmer climate, with more yoghurt pouches and fewer functioning routines!
It’s definitely not a normal week, but let's be honest... what even is a ‘normal’ week anymore?
Everything is urgent, everyone needs something.
And my own needs?
It’s just background noise, insignificant, easily postponed… until when?
Somewhere in between wiping a nose, replying to a work message, reviewing my team’s progress, and packing my mother’s suitcase I realise I’m not truly present.
I’m managing, I’m reacting, I’m juggling, I’m functioning, but I’m not really connecting.
I’m not connecting to the kids, not connecting to my daughter - heck, I’m not even connecting to myself.
And in that moment, it hits me…
This is where things start to fray. Not because I’m doing anything wrong (I mean, look at me go!), but because I’ve lost the space to respond with intention.
That’s the real cost of being stretched too thin. It’s not just exhaustion, but disconnection. And maybe, just maybe, this is the exact moment where things can shift.
Not by adding more to the list, but by pausing... and asking better questions.
It’s moments like this that I remember that parenting (or grandparenting) isn’t a job title or a performance. It’s a relationship, one with tiny humans who are still figuring themselves out.
(and if we’re honest, so are we.)
So when the wheels come off, oh and they will…, what helps isn’t more control, but more clarity.
In moments like this, I turn to four deceptively simple questions - inspired by Berthold Gunster’s Omdenken and shaped by the Functional Fluency lens I use each day to support people in using their energy more effectively.
Of course, these questions won’t clean your kitchen or fold the laundry, but they will help you stay connected when chaos reigns.
Four questions to reset as a (Grand)parent - without losing your mind
1. What exactly is the problem?
Can I pause the swirl and name what’s really going on - no drama, no overthinking?
→ This is where the Accounting mode comes in: factual, clear-headed, honest.
2. For whom is this a problem?
Is it my frustration? Or is it their frustration? Are we tangled in a dance neither of us signed up for?
→ This invites a moment of self-awareness (and maybe a deep breath).
3. What am I modeling at this moment?
Am I showing the kids what calm leadership looks like… or what meltdown management feels like?
→ Spoiler: They’re watching, and copying.
4. What invitation is hidden in this mess?
What does this moment need - more structure, more connection, or just a snack and a cuddle?
→ Every sticky moment is a door. Sometimes the handle is just hidden under a pile of toys.
You don’t have to get it perfect.
You don’t even have to get it right the first time.
But you can show up - with presence, curiosity, and the willingness to reset.
That’s the heart of (grand)parenting.
It’s not about control, and it’s not about perfection. It’s about connection - even in the middle of a not-so-holiday, holiday.
If you are now sat wondering how I managed to write this at all amongst the chaos …
Well - I’m currently hiding in the bathroom, perched on the closed toilet seat, stealing a rare moment of quiet, whilst the baby naps and the toddler explores the bookshelf! This is what (grand)parenting sometimes looks like: It’s not so glamorous, not so polished - but it is honest, tender, and ever adapting.
Now… it’s time to go back to the kids.
Love,
Leona
