I watch my lovely 17-month-old daughter, as she becomes completely absorbed by the colorful 3D animations on the TV screen, bringing old nursery rhymes to life. I find myself wondering how long the show, Dave and Ava Learn and Play, will hold her attention because I’m at a loss for what to do when she inevitably looks back at me.
This morning, I sprang out of bed at 8 a.m., eager to drop her off at daycare so I could enjoy a productive day away from work. But she barely opened her sleepy eyes and let out high-pitched whines, her body warm and congested. Realizing daycare was off the table, I reluctantly changed back into my pajamas and climbed back into bed with her.
An hour later, I watch her light up with joy as “If You’re Happy and You Know It” plays. I recognize that I am her main source of companionship and comfort at this moment. It’s crucial to nurture our bond whenever possible. Yet, the frustration I feel about having to spend an entire day solely focused on her doesn’t fit the idealized image of motherhood I’ve built in my mind.
Today, as usual, my body is filled with anxiety and restlessness. I’m in the midst of a quarter-life crisis, draining my mental and spiritual reserves. Each day feels like an uphill battle to maintain some sense of balance. My job is stressful, low-paying, and lacks meaning for the people I’m meant to help. Carving out time for my own aspirations feels nearly impossible.
Transitioning careers requires time and mental clarity, but with a toddler, a full-time job, and a partner who works late, my free moments quickly vanish. Time is like money: it’s invaluable, essential for getting things done, and can slip away before you even realize it.
When I’m alone with my daughter for too long, feelings of irritation, impatience, and resentment towards my partner creep in. He leaves early for work and returns late, free from the responsibilities of daycare drop-off and pick-up. He can unwind with video games or retreat to his office without a shred of guilt. In contrast, when I try to find a moment of solitude, my daughter is always at the door, calling for me. It’s tough for moms to ignore those cries, and if we do, guilt lurks nearby, shaking its head in disapproval.
It’s an honor to be the preferred parent and to nurture my child, but even with my disdain for my job, I understand how fortunate I am to pick her up at 3 p.m. I know the time spent with her is precious, yet I often find only half of me present. The other half is consumed by worries about my future and what I could be doing instead of singing songs with her.
“If only I could just get there,” I tell myself, “I’d be happier and have so much more to give her.” I want to be a better example of resilience and success for her.
In these moments with my toddler, I find myself torn between the future and the present. I truly believe it takes a village to raise a child, and right now, I am that village. I’ve recently started practicing mindfulness, encouraged by my therapist, and I hope it will help me be fully present with my family on this journey. They will only be this young once, and I need to cherish every moment.
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Summary:
Navigating motherhood can often feel burdensome, especially when balancing personal aspirations with the demands of caring for a young child. This article discusses the challenges of being a stay-at-home parent while managing career changes and the emotional turmoil that comes with it. Practicing mindfulness may provide a path to being more present and cherishing precious moments with children.