Each evening, after tucking the kids in, I retreat to the bathroom for a ritual that’s become my moment of self-reflection—literally. As I wash my face, I remind myself that examining the new lines on my face and the enlarged pores is a form of self-care, not self-criticism. It’s about getting acquainted with this evolving version of myself. I pluck stray eyebrow hairs, apply toner to my neck, and brush my teeth, all while embracing this time for myself.
The other night, as I splashed water on my face, my daughter Lily tiptoed in.
“I just need to blow my nose,” she whispered.
“Alright,” I replied, my voice muffled by water. I continued washing my face, enjoying the sound of her gentle sniffles into a tissue. How many times had I waited for her to master blowing her own nose? After drying my face, I turned to find her holding the tissue not for her nose, but rather to shield her gaze as she observed me. It dawned on me that she was curious—not just about my evening routine, but about the world she was about to step into. I stood tall, and she beamed at me, her shyness evident.
This newfound stillness in her, particularly this summer, reflects her desire to understand more about life. In the bathroom, I felt a twinge of vulnerability as the focus of her curiosity shifted to me. Wearing my soft cotton nightgown, with its delicate straps, I wrestled with the familiar insecurities of youth that crept back into my mind. As a mother of three daughters, I constantly battle against the urge to impress upon them the need for a polished appearance—thinner, prettier, and more put together.
“Why do you do that?” Lily asked.
“Do what?”
“Everything.”
I took a breath, contemplating her observation of my delicate balance between unwinding and becoming anxious. “I guess it’s a treat for myself; it helps me slow down.”
“Why do you want to slow down?”
“Remember how sometimes I tell you not to rush and other times I say to hurry up?” She nodded thoughtfully. “Well, no one really tells me that. I often have to remind myself.”
She looked puzzled.
“When I come in here at night, it’s like getting a fresh sheet of paper to write my thoughts or create something new,” I explained. “I do this to let go of any rushing or slowing that happened during the day—like shaking it off or washing it away—so I can go to bed at just the right speed.”
“Yeah, but why do you take so long?”
With determination akin to her efforts with that brilliant paper lantern in Cape Cod, she sought clarity.
“Um, I guess it just takes time. I’m not always great at letting things go or finding the right rhythm,” I shrugged, feeling exposed.
“I think your face looks nice when it’s all shiny and pink from the hot water. And you smell really nice,” she said, walking over to wrap her arms around me. I rested my face on her head, realizing how much shorter the distance between us had become. She squeezed me tightly and stepped back, “When you finish, can you come rub my forehead until I fall asleep?”
We exchanged smiles.
“Absolutely, I’ll be right there,” I assured her. She nodded and tossed her tissue into the trash. “Oh, and Mom, I really love your nightgown.”
As she skipped away, her coral and yellow stripes trailing behind like ribbons, a realization struck me. Both Lily and I navigate our lives under a constantly shifting microscope. While it may not always bring clarity, it occasionally aligns our perspectives, allowing us to see each other—and ourselves—in a new light. For insights into fertility and parenting, you might find it helpful to explore resources like this one on pregnancy and home insemination or the Cryobaby at-home insemination kit.
Summary:
In a reflective evening ritual, a mother connects with her daughter, exploring themes of self-care, vulnerability, and the balance of parenting. As they navigate their lives with curiosity and understanding, they discover new perspectives on themselves and their relationship.
Keyphrase: parenting and self-care
Tags: “home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”