Sweaty and frazzled, I approached the checkout line, casting a quick glance at the cashier. Her hair was flawlessly styled, and her makeup was perfectly applied. Meanwhile, I looked like a tornado had hit me—hair unkempt, sweat dripping down my forehead, and brows that hadn’t seen tweezers in weeks. Great. Just great. She must have thought she was serving a circus act rather than an overwhelmed mom.
“Hi there,” I muttered while fanning my face, desperately trying to lay out my groceries on the conveyor belt. My usual system of neatly organizing items went out the window as I scrambled to keep up with the cashier’s pace. Onions mingled with ice cream, shampoo mixed with cleaning supplies—everything was a chaotic jumble, just like my hair and my frazzled mind.
Meanwhile, my daughter, strapped into her seat in the shopping cart, was not cooing or giggling; she was wailing. Not your typical cute toddler noise, but a sound that could make a dinosaur sound like an angel. If I had to describe it, I’d say it was akin to a miniature pterodactyl having a meltdown.
Trying to suppress my own tears, I glanced at the girl ringing me up. I attempted to lighten the mood with a joke, saying, “They said having kids would be fun!” But instead of a shared laugh, I was met with a quick smile before she went back to her task, clearly uncomfortable. I chuckled awkwardly while arranging my bags in the cart, clinging to the sliver of control I had left. The baby was throwing a fit, I was sweating, and my jokes were landing flat. At least the bags were somewhat organized.
As I navigated the aisles, I had been tossing random items into my cart to appease my daughter—whether it was a ball, a snack, or even my keys—everything ended up on the floor like a game of “What Can I Throw?” It was clear that this shopping trip was going to take longer than anticipated, especially since I was gearing up for her two birthday parties. No sitters were available; my partner was off playing golf, and my family was tied up with their own commitments. It was as if the universe conspired against me.
Once I finally paid for the groceries, I made a beeline for my car, craving a moment of solitude. I looked down at my daughter and wanted to shout, “Just stop!” Instead, I halted, took a deep breath, and a wave of guilt washed over me. Looking at her, I realized she wasn’t just being difficult; she was a sad little girl reaching out for comfort. Two tears slipped down my cheeks as I leaned down to kiss her head, and when we reached the car, I scooped her up, holding her tight until her cries subsided.
When we got home, I pushed aside my endless to-do list and sat on the floor as she delightedly rummaged through her toy box, showing me each item she pulled out. Her innocent chatter replaced the earlier screams. It dawned on me that she didn’t need extravagant birthday parties or fancy cakes; she just needed me.
Now, I could have fretted about my Instagram feed needing to showcase all those birthday festivities, but I realized something vital: why was I struggling to give her my attention? Because I was running on empty. I had drained myself planning, shopping, juggling responsibilities, and making lists instead of taking care of my own needs.
We often get caught up in what our kids “require”—the latest trendy outfits, a few extra bucks in their piggy banks, or even gold for potential future emergencies. But at the end of the day, what they really need is the best version of us. To give them that, we have to first take care of ourselves.
Whether it’s a stroll outside, a therapy session, or just binge-watching your favorite show, carve out that time for yourself. If your baby is napping, skip the chores and grab a cozy cup of tea instead. Yearning for alone time? Arrange for a friend or family member to watch your little one at least once a week—even if it just means you sit in silence for a bit. And if you’re feeling overwhelmed from sleepless nights, trust me, we’re all in this together.
Neglect your own needs, and you deny your child the best version of you. When that realization hit me, I felt like I could shout it from the rooftops, but let’s be real—I was too exhausted for that.
Despite the chaos of that weekend—I even mistakenly ordered a “porn roll” instead of a prawn rice paper roll—everything turned out fine. I made a few humorous blunders, like announcing the “Chim Cham Teesecake” at my daughter’s birthday party instead of Tim Tam Cheesecake. It turns out that when you’re a tired mom, your brain can get a bit fuzzy too. I chose to slow down in the following days, focus on my little one, and toss out my relentless lists.
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Summary:
Parenting can be chaotic, and it’s easy to lose sight of what your child truly needs—your presence and attention. Amid the hustle of everyday life, remember to prioritize self-care to ensure you’re the best version of yourself for your child. Sometimes, it’s the simple moments that matter most.