Dear Overwhelmed Mother in the Grocery Aisle,
I noticed you.
Lunchables? Seriously?
As I stood nearby, I heard your child pleading for popsicles, and I watched you look into the freezer, asking for their preference. As you exited with your child—who was definitely too big for that cart—bombarding you with questions, I couldn’t help but see you take a deep breath and close your eyes. You simply replied, “Just… because. That’s how it is.” No real explanation was offered.
I noticed you. I understand you.
I am you.
There exists a relentless expectation that mothers must always be “on,” a notion that has permeated society and fueled the infamous mommy wars. As flawed individuals, when we falter, it seems we’re expected to keep our struggles to ourselves. If we dare to share, it better be accompanied by an abundance of regret and a narrative of personal development. When I penned my piece, “Dear Mom Who Is Totally Screwing Up,” my aim was to offer a dose of reality—a message of camaraderie to every mother.
Naturally, the internet, in its typical fashion, had its own perspective: Stop being so incredibly lazy.
This led me down a rollercoaster of emotions—anger, sadness, defensiveness, and indignation, a typical reaction for writers who expose themselves to public commentary.
I’m not lazy! I’m exhausted! I’m overwhelmed! I’m… I’m… alright, maybe I’m lazy. Occasionally.
Here’s my moment of so-called personal growth: I’ve accepted that this is part of me. My goal is not to eradicate laziness but to embrace it more effectively.
In fact, some of my child’s best memories stem from my moments of laziness. Just the other night, she threw a surprise party for me—not for any specific reason, just because she thinks I’m pretty great. It culminated in her giving me a pedicure in the hallway, and while I lay there, hands behind my head, relishing the moment, I was really just too tired to do anything else.
Then there was the time she decided to play in the mud by the lake, covering herself from head to toe as she pretended to be a sea monster. I knew I’d have to deal with the cleanup later, but I allowed myself to think, “Future me will handle this.”
When my toddler flipped the dog’s water dish, I simply laid down a towel and handed him some cups and spoons, thinking he was acquiring valuable skills. Truthfully, I just wanted to prepare dinner.
When anxiety grips me, I often transform into the “no” monster, squashing all potential fun for fear of messes. “Please, not the paints right now!” I would implore.
However, when I can embrace my inner laziness and think, “I’ll manage this later,” it often results in the kind of cherished childhood moments that my kids will remember fondly.
“Tomorrow me” might not appreciate it, but my children will never know that the messy kitchen experiments happened because I was simply hungry and didn’t want to move.
Who among us hasn’t engaged in the “Who can stay quiet the longest” game, or pretended to be sick while our little ones played doctor?
Certainly, there’s always room for improvement. If you think otherwise, you’re likely mistaken. There are moments when I slip into a less constructive form of laziness—the “because I said so” approach.
Most of the time, however, my laziness and creativity blend together like the blue and red play-dough I was too fatigued to separate.
One day, I can envision my son reminiscing, “Remember when Mom let us draw on the walls with chalk?” His sister will chime in, “And all that glitter!”
So yes, perhaps I am lazy at times. And maybe, just maybe, that’s perfectly okay.
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Summary:
This letter addresses the struggles of mothers who feel overwhelmed and judged for their parenting choices. It acknowledges the societal pressures to be a perfect mom while emphasizing the importance of accepting one’s imperfections. The author reflects on personal experiences that stem from moments of laziness, which often result in cherished memories for their children. Ultimately, it encourages mothers to embrace their flaws and find joy in the chaos of parenting.
Keyphrase: Overwhelmed Mother in the Grocery Aisle
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