By: Jamie Carson
Updated: July 27, 2016 | Originally Published: Jan. 5, 2005
Flustered and overwhelmed, I made my way to the checkout line, casting a quick glance at the cashier. Her hair was sleek and her makeup flawlessly done—an image of calm amid my chaotic reality. There I stood, the frazzled mother with sweat beading on my forehead, my hair a tangled mess, and my brows unkempt. She was the picture of composure, and I was a walking disaster.
“Hi,” I managed to say, fanning my face as I hurriedly placed my groceries on the conveyor belt. My usual organization of items went out the window. Onions mingled with ice cream and shampoo, all hastily bagged together—just like my unkempt hair, banana-smeared shirt, and frazzled mind.
Meanwhile, my daughter, strapped into the cart, was not merely vocalizing her displeasure with adorable coos. No, her wails were akin to a small, enraged dinosaur. Imagine that sound amplified—it was a cacophony of frustration.
Holding back tears, I turned to the cashier, trying to lighten the mood. “They said having kids would be fun,” I joked, expecting a shared laugh about the trials of parenthood. Instead, she offered a quick smile and returned to her task, clearly uncomfortable. I forced an awkward chuckle while trying to arrange my chaotic bags, holding on to whatever semblance of control I had left. The baby was screaming, I was sweating, and my humor had fallen flat.
As I frantically tossed items into the cart, I had already resigned myself to a longer shopping trip than usual. I was preparing for two birthday parties, and with no one available to help, I was on my own. My husband was off playing golf, while my sister and mother were both tied up with work commitments. Of course, my husband had assured me I wouldn’t need him, but how could anyone foresee a meltdown on the horizon?
After paying, I rushed to my car, yearning for a moment of solitude. Gazing down at my daughter, I wanted to yell, “Just stop! Please!” But I paused instead. I took a deep breath and suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over me. Instead of seeing a tiny monster intent on making my life difficult, I recognized a sad little girl reaching for her mother. Tears I had been holding back slipped down my cheeks, and I leaned down, kissing her head. Once in the car, I scooped her up and held her close until her cries quieted.
When we finally got home, I pushed aside my long to-do list and sat on the floor with her. She eagerly pulled out toys from her box, offering me various items while babbling away. The screams faded, replaced by smiles. I realized she didn’t need extravagant parties or elaborate cakes; she needed my presence, my time.
Perhaps she didn’t need the cake, but I needed to make my Instagram account look good, right? The truth was I struggled to give my daughter the attention she craved because I was running on empty. I had exhausted myself planning, shopping, writing lists, and Googling cake recipes. It was absurd, and I recognized that now.
We often focus on fulfilling our children’s material needs—clothes, toys, and monetary allowances—but at the heart of it, what they truly need is us, the best versions of ourselves. To be able to provide for them, we first have to take care of our own needs. Whether it’s a quiet walk, therapy, or simply indulging in a guilty pleasure show, it’s vital to carve out that time for ourselves.
If your baby is napping, skip the dishes and relax with a cup of tea. If you need a breather, consider dropping your child off at a trusted friend’s house once a week—even if it’s just to relax in silence. If you’re feeling overwhelmed and sleep-deprived, know that you’re not alone in this struggle.
Neglecting your own needs means you’re not giving your child the best version of you. It was a revelation for me when I finally understood this. I felt like shouting from the rooftops, “I get it! I need to prioritize myself to truly support her!” But honestly, I was too exhausted to do even that.
That chaotic weekend passed with only a few humorous blunders. Instead of ordering a prawn and pork rice paper roll, I accidentally requested a “porn roll.” Thankfully, the cashier understood my mix-up. I also announced at my daughter’s party that I’d bring out the “Chim Cham Teesecake” (which was supposed to be Tim Tam Cheesecake) after I changed the baby’s “wappy” (wet nappy). Sometimes, when you’re a mom running on fumes, your brain just can’t keep up.
In the end, I recognized that I was a tired mother who couldn’t be fully engaged for her daughter’s special day. I resolved to take it easy in the days ahead, to choose my words carefully, and to toss my lists aside.
In the journey of parenthood, it’s essential to remember that sometimes, less is more.
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Summary:
Navigating the challenges of motherhood can leave one feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. It’s easy to lose sight of what children truly need—our presence and attention. Taking time to care for ourselves is essential to being the best version of ourselves for our children. Recognizing this balance can help mothers cope with the chaotic moments that come with parenting.