Flustered and on the verge of tears, I approached the checkout line, casting a glance at the cashier. Her hair was sleek, her makeup impeccably applied, and she stood there with a calm demeanor, ready to assist the next customer. And then there was me—the frazzled mother, sweat glistening on my upper lip, my hair a chaotic mess, and my appearance reflecting weeks of neglect. What a contrast.
“Hello,” I managed, fanning my face before hastily placing my groceries on the conveyor belt. My usual meticulous organization of items was tossed aside as I scrambled to keep pace with the cashier, allowing onions to intermingle with ice cream and shampoo—just another reflection of my chaotic state of mind. Meanwhile, my daughter, seated in the cart, unleashed a series of ear-piercing screams. These weren’t the cute, playful sounds one might expect from a toddler. No, her cries were akin to a miniature pterodactyl mixed with a rhinoceros, multiplied by fifteen.
Fighting back tears, I turned to the cashier, attempting humor as a means to bridge the awkwardness. “They said having kids would be fun,” I joked, hoping for a shared laugh. But instead, she offered only a brief smile before returning her focus to bagging my groceries.
With an awkward chuckle, I began rearranging the haphazard bags in my cart, clinging to the last vestiges of control. My daughter continued her meltdown, I was drenched in sweat, and my attempts at humor were falling flat. At least I could ensure the bags looked somewhat orderly.
I was acutely aware of my daughter’s escalating tantrums throughout our shopping trip. In a desperate attempt to calm her, I handed her every item she pointed to—a ball, a bottle of water, snacks, my keys, even a cucumber. Each offering ended up discarded on the floor. So there I was, hastily filling my cart while bouncing like a jack-in-the-box, collecting her rejected toys.
I knew this grocery run would be longer than usual; I was stocking up for her two upcoming birthday parties. Unfortunately, no one was available to babysit: my partner was out golfing, my sister was at work, and my mother was also busy. It was frustrating knowing that my partner had assured me I wouldn’t need help before planning his day. But who could predict that chaos was just around the corner?
After paying for my groceries, I hurried to my car, craving a moment of solitude. I glanced down at my daughter and wanted to shout, “Stop! Just stop!” But instead, I paused, took a deep breath, and reassessed the situation. When I looked at her, I didn’t see a tiny monster intent on making my life miserable; I saw a little girl yearning for her mother’s affection. Two tears slipped down my cheeks, and I leaned down to kiss her head. Once we reached the car, I scooped her up, holding her close until her cries faded. After calming her, I strapped her into her seat and stowed away the groceries.
Once home, I tried to silence my internal to-do list and joined my daughter on the floor as she gleefully emptied her toy box—her favorite pastime. Occasionally, she’d hand me random objects, babbling happily. Smiles replaced the earlier chaos. I realized it wasn’t extravagant birthday parties or fancy cakes she craved; it was simply my undivided attention.
While she might not need an elaborate cake, I certainly felt the pressure to maintain my social media presence. Why was it so challenging to provide my daughter with what she truly needed? The answer was simple: I was running on empty. I had drained my energy on planning, list-making, shopping, and searching for cake recipes. It was absurd, really.
We often get caught up in the belief that our children require countless material items—stylish outfits, extra cash for their piggy banks, or high-value gifts for special occasions. Yet, what they truly need is us—our presence, our best selves. To offer that, we must first take care of our own needs.
Whether it’s taking a long walk, seeking therapy, or indulging in a guilty pleasure like binge-watching reality TV, it’s vital to prioritize self-care. If the baby naps, skip the dishes and enjoy a cup of tea instead. If you need a breather, consider dropping your little one off with a friend or family member for a couple of hours, even if it just means staring blankly at a wall. And while I can’t provide solutions for when sleep deprivation takes its toll, know that you’re not alone in this struggle.
Neglecting your own need for rejuvenation ultimately deprives your child of the best version of you. When I finally grasped this concept, I felt a sense of clarity. I wanted to shout from the rooftops, “I understand now! I must care for myself to care for her!” However, let’s be real—I was too exhausted for that.
I managed to navigate that hectic weekend with only a few minor mishaps—like ordering a “porn roll” instead of a prawn and pork rice paper roll, thankfully recognized by the cashier. I also mistakenly announced at my daughter’s birthday party that I would serve “Chim Cham Teesecake” (Tim Tam Cheesecake) after changing the baby’s “wappy” (wet nappy). Sometimes, when overwhelmed, my brain just doesn’t function correctly. That particular weekend, I was a weary mom who struggled to be fully present for my daughter’s celebration. In the days that followed, I decided to slow down, communicate clearly, and abandon my overly ambitious to-do lists.
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Summary:
Parenting can leave us feeling depleted, yet it’s crucial to recognize that our children need our presence more than material possessions. By prioritizing self-care, we can better support our children and be the best versions of ourselves for them. Remember, taking time for yourself is not selfish; it’s essential for effective parenting.
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