Parenting
I strive to embrace a calm and peaceful parenting approach. I genuinely do. I wake up before my little ones stir, taking a moment to meditate. Most mornings, I gulp down a glass of warm lemon water that’s supposed to detoxify my system or something like that. I breathe deeply and glance at my to-do list, reminding myself that today will be different. I won’t raise my voice at those tiny humans. I won’t tell them to hurry, and I won’t remind them to get their heads out of the clouds. I’ll be the patient and loving mother I aspire to be.
And then, my kids wake up.
In an instant, I’m completely enchanted by their sleepy expressions and warm snuggles. They’re absolutely adorable, with their tousled hair and unique little scents. I want to cherish these moments forever and keep them close. I understand that parenting is a beautiful gift.
But then it’s time to get ready for the day.
Suddenly, the whining begins. They can’t decide what to have for breakfast. Their favorite clothes are mysteriously dirty. Every snack I suggest is deemed “gross,” and any lunch ideas are met with dramatic protests. Brushing their hair—something that has happened every day of their lives—seems like a shocking chore to them. They just stand there, in a daze, staring off into space. Every single shoe has vanished overnight. They can’t even communicate without growling at each other like wild animals. The bus arrives in five minutes, and yet, it takes them seven minutes to get their shoes, socks, and coats on. School supplies and important items seem to have disappeared into thin air. Suddenly, all hope feels lost. I’m reminded that being a parent can also be a chaotic nightmare.
In that moment, I am far from the serene mother I envisioned during my early morning routine. I barely recognize that version of myself. I’m not calm or centered; instead, I’m frantically thinking about how I need my coffee before I tackle the day. I know that if they miss the bus, my morning will spiral into madness. And just like that, I transform into the mom who is yelling, “Hurry up!” It’s this frantic energy that finally gets them moving. My madness becomes my secret weapon for efficiency.
I admire those of you who manage to remain composed and get everywhere on time—the ones who never yell or think, “Why are my kids so slow?” You amaze me, but I’m not sure I fully believe you.
But for the rest of us—the moms who experiment with various parenting methods and still find ourselves running late no matter how early we start. The ones who may mutter a curse word before breakfast. The mothers who adore their kids but still want to shake them gently when they take forever to put on a shirt. The ones who call our chaos a superpower. To those who say, “Hurry up!” and “Stop playing around!” as they attempt to wrangle their little ones into motion—you are my tribe.
So, no, I won’t stop urging my kids to hurry. Because if I did, we’d probably never make it anywhere at all.
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In summary, parenting is a delicate balance between love and chaos. While I strive for peace and mindfulness, the reality often finds me urging my kids to pick up the pace. It’s a shared experience among many moms, and perhaps that’s what unites us in this wild journey.
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