By: Jenna Carter
October 26, 2023
Image by Oksana Kuzmina / Shutterstock
Today, I’m officially raising the white flag on the chaos of motherhood. I simply can’t keep going like this.
Last night, my toddler decided that 3 a.m. was the perfect time to binge-watch cartoons, and I spent over an hour trying to change his mind. At our Mommy and Me class, he nearly dashed into a parking lot filled with buses, and afterward, he lay on the floor sobbing because the teacher forgot to perform “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.”
Then there’s after-school pickup for my 8-year-old, which is always a trial. His teachers rave about him, calling him a perfect angel, but the moment he sees me, all the frustrations of his day come flooding out. He bounded out of school, slammed his backpack into my stomach, and complained that I didn’t pack chocolate milk in his lunch. Then, as if the world revolved around him, he tossed his coat at me and sprinted off to join his friends at the playground.
Both boys were having a blast—climbing trees, chasing each other, and sharing snacks. They were even nice to other kids, helping them when they stumbled. As I watched them frolic in the golden autumn light, I couldn’t help but smile. But when it was time to head home, everything unraveled. My older son insisted we leave immediately, while the younger one wanted to stay just a bit longer. The big kid tugged at his brother’s jacket, and I had to intervene, threatening to revoke their screen time if the shoving didn’t stop. I eventually managed to get them both to leave, but the walk home was just as tumultuous. The older one corrected everything his brother said, while the younger one zoomed ahead, and I worried he might dash into traffic.
Usually, I let their antics slide. I understand that they’re just kids—good kids at that—and I feel fortunate to have them. I recognize that it’s vital for them to express their feelings with me, their trusted mom. I encourage their emotional outbursts, allowing them to cry in my arms and test their limits with me.
Today, though, I was at my wit’s end. I resented every moment of motherhood. It felt like a one-sided relationship, and I was left feeling vulnerable and exposed. I wanted to matter too.
When we finally got home, my mindset shifted. I decided that I was done being a doormat. The boys tossed their shoes into the hallway, and I calmly but firmly instructed them to put them on the shoe rack. No yelling, no losing my cool; I simply stated what needed to happen.
My older son protested, but the younger one knew I was serious and complied. The older one soon followed, but then he leaned in, displaying his adorable grin, and asked for a bagel and lemonade before darting off to start his screen time.
I halted him mid-stride, saying, “Alright, get the toaster down and grab a cup from the cupboard.” He looked at me as if I had two heads and whined that he was tired. I understood; I felt the same way. Most days, I would have given in and prepared his snack, but today I asserted my needs. “I’m tired too. I need your help.”
He whimpered but then took the initiative to pull up a stool and reach for the cup. This pattern continued as I asked him to pull out his homework and lunchbox. He protested for a moment but then just did it.
The younger one wanted a bagel too and started whining until I prompted him to ask nicely, resulting in a sweet “Pweeze?” that melted my heart.
Soon after, my older son was narrating his day, adjusting the toaster settings while helping his little brother get a cup for juice. The mood shifted; they were laughing and helping each other out. My son even asked about my recent article, and the younger one gently stroked my hair. Suddenly, there was a sense of cooperation and kindness. I felt seen and respected.
Typically, I ask for cooperation and expect them to follow rules, with consequences for misbehavior. But often, it’s easier to throw my hands up in defeat or raise my voice. Not today. Today, I recognized that my needs are just as important as theirs. I’m a woman and their mom, asserting what I want and standing up for myself.
I laid it all out there, saying, “I need your help.” I wasn’t barking orders or laying down rules; I was sharing my human experience. And miraculously, they listened. They cared. They reciprocated the love that I give them day in and day out.
If I don’t find fulfillment in this parenting journey, how can I expect my kids to thrive? Moving forward, I will assert my worth. I’ll express my feelings and ask for help. I’ll embrace my humanity. I’ll still be their mom—the one who comforts them after a long day, the one who prepares their snacks—but I will also honor that inner voice reminding me that my needs deserve attention too.
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Summary:
Motherhood can be overwhelming, and it’s essential for mothers to assert their needs and feelings. By finding a balance between caring for their children and self-care, moms can foster a healthier family dynamic. Embracing vulnerability and asking for help can lead to a more fulfilling parenting experience.
Keyphrase: motherhood balance
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