Why is parenting between cultures and languages so exhausting?

You know that feeling when your head is too heavy for your shoulders, your eyes are tired of being open, and yet your brain is ping-ponging between languages like a world championship match? That’s what bilingual parenting sometimes feels like for me.

It’s not just about speaking a couple of languages. It’s about living them, and passing them on to our children. For me, it’s like holding up an entire cultural legacy with one hand while making ‘schnitzel’ with the other. And it can be pretty exhausting!

What Identity Fatigue Feels Like in Multilingual Parenting

Some days, it’s a quiet fog. Who am I again? Other days, it’s like things are swapping back and forth in my head, the gears getting stuck. What did I want to say? My brain frantically flips mental pages, trying to find the right word in the right language at the right moment. Code-switching is a superpower and it’s how I get through the day. But switching between German to my husband and English to my daughter in the same conversation can take its toll and they often get jumbled code-mixed sentences!

There are certain words I know my daughter understands in German, and I’m not sure she’s fully grasped the English version yet. So when we’re in a rush, I end up using the German word. She always says ‘Bitte’ instead of ‘please’—she’s learned it’s a nice, polite way to ask for things. But honestly, it sometimes feels like I’m forcing her to say ‘please’ in English just to make myself feel better, and she refuses to give me the satisfaction. I often say “Kita” instead of “nursery,” because I know she understands the German word and I don’t have the energy to fight for every scrap of minority language input before breakfast. It’s not a language crisis, but in those little moments, it can feel like I’m losing ground. And that can be surprisingly painful.

At the moment, the books we “read” together are mainly pictures and not so much text. Plus, Little Bean can’t understand the printed words yet. So, if she chooses a book in German, I can still use it for English input and I live-translate as we go, which sounds easy until you’ve done it after a long workday with a toddler who wants the same story three times. I’m trying to make English input happen, but it really puts my degrees and my language skills to the test some nights! And yet I keep doing it, and I’m convinced it’s worth the effort!

It’s Not Just Me. And It’s Not Just Tiredness.

People say, “You’re a native speaker, you’re a language teacher – just speak your language to her!” As if fluency cancels out fatigue. As if my training somehow exempts me from the tiredness caused by swapping between languages and cultures.

I’m the only person consistently speaking English to my Little Bean, while the world around us is all German, all the time. In this 1:100 ratio – me versus the dominant language – even my best language tricks feel like fighting off cultural tidal waves with my bare hands and a pocket dictionary!

And it’s not just about language. It’s about culture. The way I was raised in the UK, msot recent example the expectations I hold for what motherhood looks like, they often clash with what people in my current environment believe. My home village here has different ideas about what a mother should be or do. And some of the rules at my daughter’s nursery just feel… odd. I know they make sense to others, but they’re so far from the UK setups my friends talk about that I often feel like I’m on a different planet.

And because I’m fluent in German too, people assume I must automatically understand all the unspoken rules, I must share the same cultural frame of reference. But I don’t. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier not to speak the language so fluently. Maybe then, people would take the time to explain things instead of assuming I already understand.

Reconnecting to Myself

Sometimes I reconnect by reading a novel in English—just for me. Not because it’s a “useful” input method or part of our family language plan, but because I want to feel fully engaged, absorbed, not translated. Sometimes I let Ms Rachel do the “English input” work and feel zero guilt about it. If she can keep my Little Bean happily singing Wheels on the Bus while I cook dinner without narrating every step, I’ll call that a win.

And sometimes I just admit that I’m tired. That not just my child or our language goals need attention. But Me. I need things too – mostly sleep!

You Are Not Alone

If any of this sounds familiar, know this: you’re doing more than you realise. Your efforts are not wasted. And you don’t have to figure it all out on your own.

Leave a comment below if this resonates with you, I’d love to hear how identity overload shows up in your world. Maybe I can support you!

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