Being a morning person has never been my forte. I’ve always been the type who prefers the tranquility of late nights and the luxury of sleeping in. However, the arrival of motherhood has dramatically altered my circadian rhythms. Some fortunate mornings, my daughter may sleep until 7 a.m., but let’s face it—that’s a rare occurrence. More often than not, she greets the day between 5 and 6 a.m. There are even those early wake-up calls at 4 a.m. on occasion, and on those days, all I want is to bury myself under the covers and pretend the world doesn’t exist.
I long for the days of sleeping until 9 or even 10 a.m. I crave the freedom to wake up at my own pace without the pressure of preparing breakfast for a tiny human who is likely to toss most of it onto the floor. I yearn for meals where I can eat in peace, free from little hands reaching for my food, pulling my hair, or demanding bites from my plate.
I fantasize about taking a long, hot shower without an audience or the cacophony of toddler tantrums. I wish I could brush my hair without someone tugging at my legs, pleading for attention. I want to apply my makeup without interruptions from a little one who wants to play with my brushes. Dressing up in nice clothes without the risk of getting smeared with food or other bodily fluids is a dream I hold dear.
I envision driving with the windows down and music blasting, drowning out my racing thoughts. Shopping at my favorite stores without the constant worry of packing enough snacks or singing nursery rhymes to keep my child entertained until we reach the checkout line feels like a distant memory.
I miss the luxury of napping without the nagging guilt of chores left undone, dishes waiting to be cleaned, or laundry that needs folding. I wish I could clean my floors and know they would remain spotless for more than ten minutes. I long to watch anything on TV that isn’t Peppa Pig or Frozen for the millionth time.
At night, I dream of slipping into bed without the fear of being awakened by a distressed toddler seeking comfort—a tiny figure wanting to snuggle in between my partner and me. I want just one day where I can set aside the worries surrounding the health, happiness, and overall well-being of my child, who means everything to me.
But I am a mother, and in those moments of longing, I am reminded of the sweet sounds of my daughter’s voice calling for me throughout the day. I cherish the excitement and wonder in her eyes when she spots a “big truck” or conquers the slide on her own. Those crumbs on the floor are reminders of family meals and shared moments. The crayon masterpieces adorning my walls signify a little girl with an adventurous spirit eager to create and explore.
I learn that spilled milk is trivial, a minor inconvenience easily fixed with a refill. I recognize that long, hot showers are privileges, and having a curious toddler peek in isn’t so bad—it often brings a smile. Shopping trips to Target wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable without my little companion, and there’s no one I’d rather spend my extra $20 on than her.
I find that Peppa Pig isn’t the worst, and Frozen has become a beloved favorite in our household. As I lay down to sleep, I am grateful for a roof over my head and, more importantly, for a family that loves and needs me as much as I love and need them. I realize that hiding under the covers would mean missing out on the greatest gifts life has to offer.
For those considering the journey to motherhood, resources like this guide on home insemination provide valuable insights. Additionally, the ACOG offers excellent information about treating infertility, making it easier to navigate the path to becoming a parent.
In summary, motherhood presents both challenges and blessings, a journey filled with love, chaos, and the joy of watching our little ones grow.
Keyphrase: motherhood reflections
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