Author: Jessica Harmon
Date: November 13, 2023
Image Credit: Soloviova Liudmyla / Shutterstock
I find myself in a state of constant fatigue. While it may seem like a poor excuse in the realm of motherhood—after all, what mother isn’t weary?—there are moments when my exhaustion runs deeper than skin level, affecting my capacity to be the mother I aspire to be. After a day that begins well before dawn, filled with the joyful chaos of my three energetic kids, I often feel drained by the time I reach them around 5:30 PM. This is when the evening whirlwind of activities begins, and I can find my patience wearing thin.
When my children start their antics—running around, playfully slapping each other, and discussing silly things—my initial instinct is to laugh. However, there are times when I just snap instead. As I attempt to feed three increasingly uninterested little ones, my frustration bubbles over. When I call for them to bathe and they turn into wild creatures, my smile fades, and my “momster” side can emerge. It’s in those moments, after finally getting them settled in bed only to have them pop back out for the umpteenth time, that I sometimes raise my voice.
My resolve to cherish every fleeting moment often dissipates, and I find myself wishing the chaos away. This isn’t how I want to be, and if I’m honest, I usually do cherish my boys’ vivacity and their delightful silliness. Yet, on certain days, the urge to pull my hair out is overwhelming. These are the days when I feel like I’m on the verge of losing my sanity. One more loud shout or my children’s selective hearing could send me spiraling.
I had vowed not to resort to yelling—it’s counterproductive and annoying. Yet, there I am, more often than I’d like to admit, raising my voice because they’re just having too much fun or playing too loudly. They’re fully immersed in their play, and I’m too tired to engage, leading me to yell instead.
Finding a balance between teaching my children to enjoy life and obeying me is crucial. While there is a right time for everything, I often need to remind them to listen. But does yelling actually resolve the situation? Not at all. In fact, my boys usually just laugh, which reassures me that I’m not permanently damaging them. Yet it also highlights how futile losing my cool can be—much like attempting to get a hyperactive toddler to sit still for dinner.
I’ve realized the importance of routine in our lives. However, within that structure, play must be prioritized. They need to play, and I must join them. They crave my attention, and while I juggle the responsibilities of the evening, they simply want me to be present. On the nights I manage to do that, everything flows more smoothly; it feels as if time stands still, and I recognize that my sons are not the issue—it’s me.
So to my children, I apologize. It’s not you; it’s me. Mothers are not flawless, but we strive to do our best. We stumble, we snap when we should smile, and we shout when we ought to whisper. Our adult concerns are not your burden, and you’re meant to embrace the joys of childhood—playing, laughing, and living in the moment. That’s your role, and my task is to help you find balance. In truth, it seems you are the ones guiding me toward that equilibrium.
Thank you for your patience. It’s not you; it’s me.
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Summary:
This article reflects the daily struggles and realizations of a tired mother who grapples with the challenges of parenting while managing her own exhaustion. It emphasizes the importance of presence and play in the parent-child relationship, recognizing that the issues often lie within the parent rather than the children. Through moments of frustration, the mother learns to appreciate the joy and chaos of her children’s lives while acknowledging her imperfections and the need for balance.
Keyphrase: parenting struggles of a tired mother
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