Dear Overwhelmed Mother in the Grocery Store,
I noticed you. Lunchables, really? I heard your child whining for popsicles, and I saw you pull open the freezer door, asking for their preference. As you left with your too-big kid perched in the cart, bombarding you with a barrage of questions, I witnessed you close your eyes and take a deep breath before muttering, “Just…because. That’s just how it is.” No real answers were given.
I see you, and I understand you. In fact, I am you.
There’s this unspoken pressure on mothers to always be “on,” a sentiment that has permeated our culture and fueled the relentless judging of the infamous mommy wars. As flawed beings, we mothers are often expected to keep our mistakes to ourselves. And if we dare to share, it better come laced with overwhelming regret and a narrative of personal growth.
When I penned my piece, “Dear Mom Who Is Totally Screwing Up,” I aimed for a dose of reality and a message of camaraderie for every mother out there. Yet, as is the nature of the internet, my honesty was met with criticism: just stop being so lazy.
In reading those comments, I transformed into a whirlwind of emotions—mad, sad, defensive. I wanted to shout, “I’m not lazy! I’m exhausted! I’m overwhelmed!” But, if I’m being honest, sometimes, yes, I can be lazy.
And here’s the twist of personal growth: I’ve come to accept that. My new ambition isn’t to eliminate my laziness; it’s to embrace it in a way that enhances my children’s experiences.
Believe it or not, many of my daughter’s fondest memories stem from moments when I opted for a bit of laziness. Just the other night, she organized an impromptu party in my honor—no special occasion, just her thinking I’m pretty great. The highlight? A surprise pedicure in the hallway while I reclined on the floor, simply too tired to protest.
Then there was the time she transformed into a sea monster, covering herself in mud at the lake’s edge. While I knew I’d face the cleanup later, I let “future me” handle that.
While my toddler decided to turn the dog’s water bowl into a delightful mess, I just laid down a towel and handed him some cups. Sure, he was learning, but honestly, I just wanted to make dinner.
When anxiety creeps in, I transform into “no” monster, squashing all fun because of the mess it might create. But when I embrace the laziness of “I’ll handle this later,” it often leads to cherished moments my children will treasure.
“Tomorrow me” might think I’m terrible, but my kids don’t need to know that the chaotic kitchen creations were just a result of my own hunger and reluctance to get up.
Who hasn’t played the classic game of “Who can be quiet the longest,” or pretended to be sick to let the kids take charge as the doctor?
There’s always room for improvement, and if you think otherwise, you’re probably mistaken. Sometimes, my laziness manifests in less constructive ways, like the dreaded “because I said so” responses. Yet, more often than not, laziness and creativity blend together beautifully, like blue and red play-dough I couldn’t muster the energy to separate.
One day, long after I’m gone, I can picture my son reminiscing, “Remember that time Mom let us draw on the walls with chalk?” His sister will chime in, “And the glitter! So much glitter!”
So yes, I may be lazy at times. And maybe that’s perfectly fine.
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Summary:
In this open letter, a mother reflects on the pressures of motherhood and the often unjustified scrutiny that comes with it. Embracing her own moments of laziness, she highlights how these instances can lead to cherished memories with her children. Rather than striving for perfection, she advocates for accepting imperfection and finding joy in the little moments of life as a parent.