As I gaze at my adorable 17-month-old daughter, her focus is glued to the TV screen, captivated by the colorful 3D animations of classic nursery rhymes. I find myself pondering how long “Dave and Ava Learn and Play” will hold her attention, knowing I’m at a loss for activities once she turns her gaze back to me.
This morning, I sprang out of bed at 8 a.m., eager to drop her off at daycare and seize a productive day off from work. But she barely stirred, emitting high-pitched whines, her body warm and covered in a layer of snot. Realizing she was too unwell for daycare, I reluctantly changed back into my pajamas and crawled back into bed next to her.
An hour later, I watch her light up with joy when “If You’re Happy and You Know It” starts playing. I reflect on my role as her main source of comfort and companionship. The pressure we mothers place on ourselves to embody an idealized version of motherhood can be overwhelming. Yet, the irritation I feel when tasked with watching my child all day doesn’t fit into that picture.
Today, my body feels tense and restless, a sign of my ongoing quarter-life crisis draining my mental and spiritual energy. I work in a high-stress, underappreciated job that doesn’t serve the clients I’m supposed to help. Each day presents a new challenge to carve out time for my personal goals. Transitioning careers requires time and mental clarity, but with a toddler, a full-time job, and a partner who works long hours, the little free time I do have often evaporates before I know it. Time is a precious commodity, essential for accomplishing anything worthwhile.
When I find myself alone with my daughter for extended periods, I can feel trapped, irritable, and impatient—often resenting my husband. Why the resentment? He leaves early for work and returns late, free from daycare duties. He can zone out with video games, whereas I’m constantly on duty. The rare moments I attempt to sneak away for some solitude, my daughter is right there, knocking on the door calling for “Mommy”—and let’s be honest, it’s pretty hard for a mom to ignore those cries. Guilt tends to lurk in the background, waiting to pounce.
Yes, it’s a privilege to be the favorite parent, and it’s a blessing to nurture my children. Despite my frustrations with my job, I recognize how fortunate I am to pick up my daughter at 3 p.m. I cherish the moments we spend together, but I often find myself only half-present. The other half is consumed with worries about my future and what else I could be doing.
“If only I could reach my goals,” I tell myself, “I’d be happier and have more to give.” I want to be a better example of perseverance and success for her. This is the mental tug-of-war I face when I’m alone with my toddler—one foot in the future, the other in the present. I believe it truly takes a village to raise a child, and right now, I am that village. Encouraged by my therapist, I’ve started practicing mindfulness, hoping it will help me fully engage with my family during this fleeting time. After all, they will only be this young once, and I want to make every moment count.
Conclusion
In summary, motherhood can feel like a heavy burden at times, especially when balancing personal aspirations and family responsibilities. The internal struggle between being a present parent and chasing dreams is real. However, embracing mindfulness may help navigate these challenges and enhance the precious moments shared with loved ones.
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