There's a lot going on in the world, but right now, it's hard for me to care about it all — especially politics.

Once every few days, there's a seismic disruption to one of our kids' sleep, resulting in an equally seismic disruption to my and my husband's sleep (and sanity).

Last week, it was my 5-year-old, who was so excited for the Halloween festivities at his school that he woke up at 3 a.m., coming into my room to ask:

"Is it tomorrow yet?"

I helped him back into bed but soon heard rustling. I went back in to find that he had completely dressed himself for the day. There was very little sleep for either one of us after that.

Most recently, our 3-year-old, who fights naps like St. George battled dragons, woke up at midnight sobbing. I listened for what felt like hours as my husband tried to soothe him. Eventually, I put him in our bed. I tried to smooth his hair and murmur softly but, as if I were a dirty stranger trying to maul him, he pushed off my hand.

He's also been tested for COVID four times in recent weeks, because nowadays every time your kid gets a runny nose, they get tested for COVID. Once, I took the boys out of school for their flu shots only to find when we showed up that neither could get theirs due to a cough the preschooler had picked up. Another COVID test, another two days of isolation, we were told instead.

I'm not angry at the doctors, just like I'm not angry at my kids for not sleeping, but it makes a person weary — all of this does.

So, when people start yelling at each other about out-of-state gubernatorial elections or Netflix stand-up specials or whether toymakers are using the appropriate courtesy titles for plastic potatoes, I know that I should care, but, still, do not.

I should care about the climate crisis. After all, it's my kids, the same ones I'm trying valiantly to shepherd into adulthood, who will deal with the consequences.

I should care about family leave, which gives people like me the chance to bond with their newborns before being shuffled back to work after a leisurely four weeks off.

I know I should care about supply chains and vaccine mandates and critical race theory (if anyone could properly define it for me), but, again, I don't.

Not right now, when all I can do is push myself through another day of caring reasonably well for my family and barely caring for myself.

I suspect there are a lot of women like me — mothers, grandmothers, aunts and daughters — who are also tired. Too tired to care about all the things we should care about. Too overworked and underappreciated; stretched too thin.

If you're a man and you feel left out because I'm only talking about women, I know I should care about that, too, but I don't.

For politics is the pastime of the elite, those with time to think and argue and tweet. They're the seafaring yachts, with motors to propel them and crew to swab the decks.

Most of us, however, are tiny rowboats swept along on the tides of history, too weak to paddle and too busy to steer.

We just can't find it in us to care.

I wish, sometimes, as I'm wiping up the chocolate milk from the floor or picking doughnut crumbs out of car seats, that there was a voice to speak for us, the tired.

I'm too exhausted, though, to figure out what the voice would say.

To learn more about Georgia Garvey, visit GeorgiaGarvey.com.