Some weeks just knock you flat. The kind where you feel like you’re dropping the ball in every direction—your toddler gets gastro, then you get it, then he gets it again. You start toilet training, then the dad gets gastro, and just when you think you’ve turned a corner, hand, foot and mouth hits. And all this? Still while toilet training. The fridge is empty. The laundry is overflowing. No one’s really eating because no one’s keeping anything down. And at some point—standing in front of that empty fridge, stomach finally growling—you realise: I’ve dropped all the balls. And honestly? That moment hit hard. Because the truth is, when you feel like you’re dropping the ball, it’s easy to spiral into guilt. You see the mess. You feel behind. You snap at your partner. You wonder how other people keep going. But here’s what I wish someone had whispered to me right then: You’re not failing. You’re surviving.
The Myth of Having It All Together
Somewhere along the way, we picked up this idea that we need to keep everything in the air all the time. The clean house. The well-fed family. The progress charts and bedtime routines. The stocked fridge and folded laundry. But what if “dropping the ball” isn’t the disaster we think it is? What if it’s just a sign that your hands were full—and something had to give? As an early childhood educator, I’d never expect a child to juggle more than they can carry. If a toddler’s struggling, we don’t say “just do better.” We slow down. We meet them where they are. We offer rest, reassurance, and a rhythm they can return to when they’re ready. So why don’t we offer ourselves the same grace?
What Really Matters (and What Can Wait)
Once the fog lifted—and we were finally on the mend—I realised I didn’t need to jump straight into catch-up mode. I just needed to do the next kind thing. For me? That meant rest. Letting go of the pressure. And doing what I tell families all the time: focus on the basics first. The fridge didn’t need to be stocked for a week. Just enough for the next meal. The laundry didn’t need to be done. Just a clean set of clothes for each of us. The routine didn’t need to be perfect. We just needed a little rhythm, a little calm. That’s how you begin to feel in control again. Not by doing everything—but by doing something. Just one thing that makes life a little easier. A little lighter. A little more yours again.
Need help with where to begin? I put together this gentle 5-day email series that walks you through a mindset reset to help you feel more grounded when life’s turned upside down.
How to Reframe “Dropping the Ball”
Instead of asking, Why can’t I keep up?—try asking:
What needs my energy most right now?
What can wait until I feel stronger?
What’s one small step I can take today that will help me feel just a little more like me?
Because truthfully? You are allowed to let the mess be. You’re allowed to prioritise recovery over productivity. You’re allowed to take your time rebuilding. In early childhood, we talk about co-regulation—helping children manage their big feelings by offering calm, connection, and consistency. In these past few weeks, I’ve had to do the same for myself. That might look like a warm drink after bedtime. A reset routine in the morning. Or simply telling yourself, You did your best today. And that’s enough.
If You Feel Like You’re Dropping the Ball…
Know that you’re not alone. Life gets chaotic. Illness hits. Plans unravel. And the pressure to “bounce back” only makes it harder. But bouncing isn’t the goal. Rebuilding gently is. Start by tuning in. What does your body need? Your mind? Your heart? Your home? Not all of them—just one. Let’s stop judging ourselves for not keeping it all together. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is let the balls fall… and focus on catching yourself first.
So, grab a tea (or that half-cold coffee), and let me know in the comments: Have you ever felt like you were dropping all the balls? What helped you feel grounded again? And if this post spoke to you, join my regain control series—it’s a gentle nudge back to you.
Sometimes all the balls drop—and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re human, and it’s time to catch yourself first.
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