As the school year kicks off, I find myself back in the driver’s seat at 3 p.m., transporting kids from one activity to another. My youngest, Sophie, jumps in, bubbling with excitement about a raccoon named Chester causing chaos at her preschool, handing out candy. I suspect Chester is a figment of her imagination, but I nod along, my focus divided between her chatter and my mental checklist. It’s like I’m on autopilot—just a MomBot moving through the motions.
It takes a moment for me to realize she’s asked, “Isn’t that funny, Mommy?” I respond with a hollow laugh, “Oh? Yes, it is funny!” But the truth is, Robot Mom isn’t really tuned in.
As I navigate our familiar route—past the grocery store, the playground, and our neighbors’ homes—I barely register the small changes around us. I pick up my middle child, Jake, who slinks into the car with the typical posture of a teen. Now, I find myself firing off questions, only to receive one-word responses. “Did you turn in your notecards?” I ask, and he nods. “Who did you sit with at lunch?” A curt, “The usual.” “Did you have a good day?” earns me an eye roll.
I sigh, tightening my grip on the steering wheel, turning up the radio, and slipping back into the Robot Mom role. Soon enough, an argument breaks out between Sophie and Jake over the volume of her singing. Jake complains he’s heard the song too many times. I mumble a half-hearted, “Just stop it, you guys!” but it feels more like a thought than an actual command.
Next, I head to pick up my oldest, Lily, who hops in with energy, enthusiastically sharing what she learned about sharks. “Did you know they have rows of teeth? Some eat plankton!” Jake chimes in to correct her, and suddenly, the car fills with laughter as they discuss the fun facts about sharks. The shift is palpable; the tension fades, and I put aside my Robot Mom persona.
In the chaos of schedules and sibling squabbles, it’s easy to zone out. Now that the kids are older, they don’t physically need me like they did as infants. Sometimes, it feels like I’m merely a driver, chef, or social planner. But what they truly need is for me to be fully present.
I’ve fought for my children since before they were born—through countless appointments and sleepless nights. I’ve been their storyteller and teacher, guiding them through life’s challenges. So why would I allow myself to drift into autopilot now? Each moment they share with me is fleeting and precious.
One day, this backseat will be quiet, and I won’t hear their stories or laughter. Sure, I’ll miss the chaos now, but I need to embrace every second of this beautiful mess while it lasts. In our car rides, I get to model how they should engage with the world around them.
I know I won’t completely shake the Robot Mom routine. There will be days I feel overwhelmed and distracted. But I hope to catch myself in those moments, reminding myself to tune in, lest I miss another delightful fact about sharks—or any other wonder they share.
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In summary, while it’s easy to slip into a routine of disengagement in parenting, the connection with my children is vital. Each moment together is a treasure, and I must strive to be present, embracing both the noisy and quiet times.