“Sleeping Would Be Nice”: A Love Letter to Every Exhausted Parent Running on Caffeine and Hope

There’s a moment—usually around day 47 of no actual sleep—when a parent looks around their kitchen, takes in the half-drunk coffee on the counter, the toddler scribbles taped to the fridge, the scattered socks that may or may not be clean, and thinks to themselves:

“Sleeping would be nice.”

And honestly? That’s it. That’s the whole prayer.

As a therapist and a mom (and a wife, caregiver, ADHD human, professional sarcastic summarizer, and deeply committed over-functioner), I’ve heard this phrase whispered, laughed, cried, and muttered more times than I can count. And this week, one of my clients said it again in that half-delirious, half-relatable tone only a sleep-deprived parent can master.

Instantly, an image popped into my head—the exhausted mom in her housecoat, baby in one arm, coffee in the other, staring blankly into the abyss of “how is it only 9:12am?” And right next to her: the equally exhausted dad version, holding a mug that reads Dad Fuel, looking like he hasn’t seen REM sleep since 2018.

So, naturally, I turned it into a product

Because when I hear a line that resonates with real humans in real struggles…I create. It’s my ADHD superpower and my slightly unhealthy coping mechanism rolled into one chaotic little ball of inspiration.

When Parenting Meets Sleep Deprivation (AKA: The Olympic Sport No One Trains For)

Before you have kids, you think you know what tired is.

You really do.

“Oh my god, I’m exhausted,” we used to say after staying up until 2am and then sleeping until 10. Precious.

Then you become a parent and suddenly sleep is this mythical creature that appears only when it wants to. Like Bigfoot. Or the laundry being fully done.

Those first weeks? They’re not even real. They’re a fever dream where time stops making sense.

Sleep regressions, cluster feeding, teething, mystery fevers, “the second Tuesday of the month,” barometric pressure, full moon energy—take your pick. Everything becomes a reason nobody in your house is asleep.

And once your kids can walk into your room?

Oh, you’re done.

I spent 1.5 years with my daughter sneaking into our bed every single night because the bedtime battle required more emotional stamina than I had at 2am. My son—bless his easygoing little heart—had his own phases of night-time wanderings. Some nights, the whole family was piled into my bed like a sleep-deprived game of Tetris.

And because I am an overstimulated ADHD sleeper, the moment someone so much as breathes in my direction, I’m awake. No thanks. I will happily relocate to one of the three vacant beds in the house like a Victorian ghost in search of peace.

So when I say “sleeping would be nice”...

it isn’t a complaint.

It’s a spiritual calling.

The Great Bunk Bed Negotiation of 2023

Because let’s be honest, at some point every parent ends up negotiating with a tiny dictator at 3am.

When my daughter was two, we “evicted” her from her crib so her baby brother could have it (parenting logistics are wild). That meant she could suddenly escape her room at any time of night, which she took as an open invitation to join our bed. Every. Single. Night.

Between her nightly visits and my son waking 2–5 times like it was his side hustle, I surrendered to pure survival mode. For almost 1.5 years, she slept in our bed more nights than not. And while waking up to her cute little face was adorable… I would have much preferred to admire that cute little face from the baby monitor, thank you very much.

Then one day, tapped out and running on fumes, I did what every parent swears they won’t do:

I negotiated with my 4-year-old.

I told her, “If you sleep in your bed for the next three months… we will get you a bunk bed.”

Well.

That child took off like she was training for the Sleep Olympics.

Month 1: 17 nights in her own bed

Month 2: 22 nights

Month 3: 25 nights

For a 4-year-old, that is basically Hall of Fame material.

So OF COURSE she got her bunk bed — and she was pumped. (Parents: sometimes behavioural psychology works. Sometimes bribery works. We take the wins where we can.)

To this day, she still occasionally sneaks in, but now it’s a calculated decision based on factors like:

• the moon phase

• her energy level

• whether she heard a noise

• whether her pinky toe feels funny

• or whether she simply “felt like it”

  
  

I respect the hustle.

And now? Every time I see that bunk bed in her room, I’m reminded that parents do whatever it takes to survive the season they’re in. And that’s okay.

The full day project to surprise my daughter.

Why This Design Matters (And Why It Had to Exist)

For over 10 years, I’ve listened to clients say versions of the same thing:

“I’m so tired.”

“I feel guilty.”

“I don’t think I’m doing a good job.”

“I should be managing this better.”

Exhaustion has a way of convincing us we’re failing.

And that’s where my therapist brain kicks the door down and goes:

“You’re not failing. You’re exhausted.”

“You’re human.”

“And you’re doing a really, really good job.”

Parents don’t need perfection.

Kids don’t need perfection.

Kids need love, presence, stability, and the version of you who keeps trying—even when your hair is questionable and your coffee is cold.

So yes, I made the mugs.

Because sometimes you need a reminder that survival mode doesn’t mean failure.

Sometimes you need something that makes you laugh at the chaos.

Sometimes you need a small token of:“Hey, other parents feel this too.”

This isn’t just a mom thing—which is why I made both the mom and dad styles.

Sleep deprivation is a team sport.

The “Sleeping Would Be Nice” Mugs

Available in my Etsy shop

I wanted these mugs to feel:

• warm

• soft

• relatable

• a little funny

• a little emotional

• and deeply, deeply real

The mom version has the pink robe, the baby snuggled in, the scribbles on the fridge.

The dad version has the robe, the “Dad Fuel” mug, and the tired-but-still-trying energy every parent recognizes in their soul.

And on the back?

A gentle little affirmation for all parents everywhere:

“Powered by Love… and Caffeine.”

The official slogan of adulthood.

You’re Doing a Great Job (Even If It Doesn’t Feel Like It)

When sleep goes, everything gets harder—anxiety, mood, focus, energy, patience.

And when we’re maxed out, that negative voice sneaks in through the back door like an uninvited raccoon rummaging through our self-esteem.

But hear me clearly:

You are doing a great job.

You are doing the best you can.

Your kids don’t need perfect. They need you.

Even if your shirt is stained, your brain is foggy, and your coffee is reheated for the fourth time.

One of my clients once said they were learning to be “louder than the voice.”I loved it so much I practically adopted it as a therapeutic life motto.

That voice that tells you you’re not enough?

That you’re failing?

That everyone else has it figured out but you?

Be louder than that voice.

Challenge it.

Roll your eyes at it.

Tell it to sit down and hush—you’ve got things to do and a life to live.

If You’re New Here… Hi, I’m Ashley

Welcome to my cozy, chaotic, mental-health-meets-creativity corner of the internet.

I’m a Licensed Counselling Therapist in New Brunswick, who also happens to design ADHD-friendly, emotionally relatable, sometimes hilarious products inspired by the stories I hear in my counselling office and the life I live as a mom, wife, caregiver, and human.

If this is your first blog of mine—hi! I’m so glad you’re here. You can find all my products on Etsy, more of my writing on my website, and behind-the-scenes chaos on Instagram. Thank You for Being Here

Thank you for spending a little time with me today.

My hope is that this space feels like a warm blanket—calm, cozy, honest, and human. Whether you’re here for the mental-health wisdom, the ADHD-inspired chaos, or the handmade creations that weave both worlds together, I’m glad you found your way here.

We’re all figuring it out as we go, and I’m right there with you—coffee in hand, embracing the messiness, and cheering you on. Until next time, take care of yourself in the ways that you can.