Today, I’ve reached a turning point in my journey as a mother. I can’t continue down this path any longer, not like this.
Last night, my little one decided that 3 a.m. was the perfect moment to binge-watch cartoons, and it took me more than an hour to persuade him otherwise. At playgroup, he nearly dashed into a parking lot filled with school buses. After class, he lay on the floor sobbing because the teacher overlooked singing “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.”
Picking up my 8-year-old from school is always draining. His teachers rave about his angelic behavior, but the moment he sees me, all his pent-up frustrations from the day come rushing out. He bounded out of school, slamming his backpack into my stomach while complaining that I forgot to include chocolate milk in his lunch. He flung his coat at me before racing off to the playground to join his friends.
Both boys had a blast outdoors, climbing trees, chasing balls, and racing up slides. They were kind to their peers, sharing snacks and catching friends who stumbled. I adore watching them enjoy a bright autumn afternoon; their laughter brings me joy.
But once it was time to leave, the mood shifted dramatically. My older son wanted to leave immediately, while my younger son was not ready. My older son yanked on his brother’s jacket hood, prompting me to intervene and threaten to revoke screen time. Eventually, I managed to (bribe) both of them to leave, but the walk home was just as frustrating. The older sibling corrected everything the younger one said, while the little one sprinted ahead, almost running into oncoming traffic.
Generally, I try to give them some leeway. Despite their antics driving me up the wall, I empathize with them. They’re just kids, and I’m grateful to have them. I understand it’s healthy for them to express their feelings to me, their trusted mom. I let them cry in my arms and push boundaries with me.
But today was different. I found myself overwhelmed with resentment. I felt like a servant in a one-sided relationship. I was emotionally drained and craving acknowledgment. I wanted to matter too.
Once we arrived home, I resolved to change the narrative. I thought, “Enough is enough.” The boys tossed their shoes into the hallway, and I calmly but firmly asked them to put them on the shoe rack. I wasn’t yelling, nor was I losing my temper; I was simply asserting myself.
My older son protested, while the younger one complied—he knows when I mean business. The older one followed suit, then immediately leaned in with his adorable grin, claiming he was starving and requesting a bagel with lemonade before darting to the den for screen time.
I halted him, saying, “Alright, get the toaster and grab a cup from the cupboard.” He stared at me as if I had lost my mind and whined, “I’m tired.” I understood his exhaustion, and on most days, I would have prepared his snack.
However, today I replied honestly, “I’m tired too. I need your help.”
After a moment of pouting, he pulled up the stool to reach the cup and crouched to grab the toaster. The same dynamic played out when I asked him to take out his homework and lunchbox. A bit of initial resistance, but eventually, he complied.
The younger one soon requested a bagel, whining for it. I asked him to please ask politely. “Pweeze?” he replied, his big green eyes sparkling.
Before long, my older son was animatedly recounting his day, adjusting the toaster settings, and assisting his younger brother in getting a cup for juice. Both kids were laughing with each other and me. My older son even inquired about a story I recently published, while the younger one gently stroked my hair. They were being helpful and kind, showing glimpses of empathy. I felt recognized and respected.
Typically, I advocate for cooperation and establish rules for my children to follow, with consequences if they don’t. However, it often becomes easier to overlook it all or to snap.
But today was different. Today, my needs were just as important as theirs. I am a woman and their mother who articulates her desires and stands up for herself.
I expressed my truth: “I need your help,” because I genuinely couldn’t manage it all alone. It wasn’t about barking orders or enforcing rules; it was about my needs, laid out honestly.
To my surprise, they listened. They cared. They reciprocated the love I bestow upon them daily.
If there’s nothing in this parenting journey for me, there’s nothing in it for my children either. Moving forward, I intend to prioritize my own worth. I’m going to voice my feelings, ask for help, and embrace my humanity. I will remain their mom—the one who provides comfort, makes snacks, and handles everything—but I will also heed that inner voice that reminds me my feelings matter too, and I will let that strong voice be heard.
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Summary
This article reflects on the challenges and emotional toll of motherhood, emphasizing the importance of self-advocacy and open communication. The author shares personal anecdotes of navigating parenting dynamics with her children, ultimately discovering the power of expressing her needs.