“I adore my children. Naturally, I do.”
This isn’t an attempt to convince either you or myself, but the addition of “naturally” might hint at something deeper. Let me clarify: “I cherish my children. Naturally, I do. But…”
But I genuinely enjoy my time away from them as well. In fact, I relish it. There, I’ve said it—this is the undeniable truth.
During their younger years, my favorite moments were those when the day wound down. While many parents might share this sentiment, I dare say I embraced it with a unique passion. Bedtime represented my liberation. It provided me a fleeting chance to reclaim a part of myself. I could indulge in a novel, tackle household chores, or simply enjoy solitude without anyone tugging at my shirt or expressing their needs. No arguments, no entertainment duties, no homework oversight—just me, enjoying a brief escape from the responsibilities of motherhood.
After tucking them in, I would often find myself dancing down the hallway, arms lifted in a victorious celebration of my temporary freedom. I believe this is why so many mothers become night owls or indulge in a glass of wine; we crave moments to breathe and simply not be mothers.
The sight of the school bus pulling away was nothing short of delightful. Watching my kids board and drive off brought an exhilarating sense of joy that was truly unmatched. Even if my next task was cleaning or cooking, I could do it without interruption for a blissful stretch of time. I could plop down on the couch with a bowl of buttery noodles and watch my favorite shows without a hint of judgment. My empty house quickly transformed into a sanctuary of peace.
Playdates were another source of joy. When my children spent time at a friend’s place, it felt like magic unfolded. I always made sure to reciprocate these visits; I wasn’t the type of mother to drop off kids and never return the favor. But the moment my kids exited the car and headed off to play, it was as if the universe opened up, showering me with butterflies and rainbows.
For those precious hours, I wasn’t responsible for anyone else’s needs. I didn’t have to shape their futures or worry about their well-being. The relief I experienced when my children were away was palpable. Without them, I felt free from the pressures of saying the right thing or managing my emotions. I didn’t have to prioritize anyone but myself, even if just for a little while.
Taking a break from being a mother made a monumental difference in how refreshed I felt when it was time to jump back into my role. Now that my kids are older, nothing has changed; I still appreciate when they have plans or aren’t home. I prefer to worry about them from a distance rather than being right there in the thick of it.
Perhaps I’m being a bit too candid, but honesty is important. I still lie awake at night, consumed with thoughts of them. My love for them is fierce and unwavering, and I cherish our time together. Their happiness directly impacts my own; if they’re hurting, I feel it too. I’m the first to jump into my car—half-dressed and half-asleep—if they need me. I’m also the one who spends hours helping them navigate their challenges and celebrating the holidays with decorations and delicious meals. I even send care packages filled with love.
I’m present for them in every conceivable way, yet I also find joy in not being needed. In fact, I love that aspect of it. I believe this duality is entirely healthy. I’ve earned my respite from running the “Mom Store,” having raised my children into responsible, independent adults. They can forge their paths while I embrace mine, creating a harmonious balance.
After all, they know my support is always available, even if I’m snuggled up on the couch watching TV with a bowl of buttered noodles in my lap.
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In summary, while I love my kids deeply, I also treasure the moments apart. These breaks rejuvenate me, allowing me to be a better parent when we’re together. Balancing love with personal freedom is key to enjoying both motherhood and self-care.