Flustered and on the verge of tears, I approached the checkout lane, casting a glance at the girl behind the counter. Her hair was neatly styled, and her makeup was tastefully applied. She stood there, calmly awaiting the next customer. And there I was—the frazzled mom with beads of sweat forming on my upper lip and brows that hadn’t seen a grooming session in weeks. What a sight.
“Hi,” I said, fanning my face as I began unloading my groceries onto the conveyor belt. My usual methodical arrangement of similar items went out the window as I scrambled to keep pace with the cashier’s speed. Onions were tossed in with ice cream and shampoo—just like my unwashed hair, banana-smeared top, and scrambled brain.
Meanwhile, my daughter, seated in the shopping cart’s baby seat, was wailing like a tiny beast. Not the cute little yelps that make you say, “Aw,” but rather the sound of a furious pterodactyl-rhinoceros hybrid. It was unbearable.
Fighting back the tears, I turned to the cashier. “Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.” I meant it as a joke, hoping to lighten the mood. But instead, she briefly glanced up, offered a fleeting smile, and then focused intently on bagging my groceries. My awkward laugh echoed as I attempted to organize my chaotic bags while my baby continued her tantrum.
I had known this shopping trip would be longer than usual since I was preparing for two birthday parties. No one was available to babysit; my partner was playing golf, and my family was busy. Of course, my partner had assured me I wouldn’t need him before he made his plans, but who could predict a meltdown was around the corner?
After paying, I rushed to my car, yearning for some privacy. I looked down at my daughter, wanting to say, “Stop. Just stop.” Instead, I halted the cart, took a deep breath, and felt an overwhelming wave of guilt wash over me. Looking at my daughter, I saw not a little monster but a sad girl reaching for her mom. Tears escaped my eyes as I leaned down and kissed her head, then continued to the car. Once there, I scooped her into my arms, holding her close until her cries subsided. I buckled her into her seat and loaded the groceries.
At home, I pushed my to-do list aside and sat on the floor with my daughter as she eagerly pulled out every toy from her toy box. She handed me random objects, babbling incoherently. The sounds of joy replaced the screams. I realized then that what she truly needed wasn’t two birthday parties and a fancy cake, but simply my time and attention.
Perhaps she didn’t need the cake, but my Instagram account sure did. So why was I struggling to give her what she required? The answer was simple: my tank was empty. I had exhausted my energy on planning, list-making, shopping, and more list-making. Absurd, really.
We often focus too much on what our kids “need”—the perfect clothes, a little extra cash for their bank accounts, or even gold for future emergencies. But in reality, all they need is you, the best version of you. To offer that, you must first tend to your own needs.
Whether it’s a long walk, therapy, or indulging in a guilty pleasure show like Keeping Up With the Kardashians, find what nourishes your soul. If the baby is napping, ignore the dishes and relax with a cup of tea. Need some alone time? If you can, drop your little one off at a friend’s house for a couple of hours—even if all you do is stare at a wall. Sleep deprivation? I feel you—it’s a struggle. But remember, you are not alone in this.
When you neglect your own needs, you also deny your child the best version of yourself. I felt a lightbulb moment when I realized this. I wanted to shout from the rooftops, “I get it now! I need to take care of myself to care for her!” But honestly, I was too exhausted for that.
I managed to get through that hectic weekend with only minor mishaps—like ordering a “porn roll” instead of a prawn and pork rice paper roll, and accidentally announcing a “Chim Cham Teesecake” (Tim Tam Cheesecake) while changing my daughter’s “wappy” (wet nappy). My brain was frazzled, but I learned that sometimes, when a mom is stretched thin, her mind struggles too. I decided to take the following days to slow down, communicate more clearly, and abandon the endless lists.
For more insights on managing motherhood and self-care, check out this great blog post.
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Summary:
In this candid reflection, a mother grapples with the challenges of parenting while feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. Amidst a chaotic grocery shopping trip, she realizes that her daughter’s needs extend beyond material things—they crave her attention and love. The essay highlights the importance of self-care for parents, emphasizing that one must replenish their own energy to be the best for their children. It offers practical advice for managing stress and taking time for oneself in the busy journey of parenthood.
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