I’ve never really considered myself a morning person. I’ve always preferred staying up late and indulging in a few extra hours of sleep. However, motherhood has a way of altering your internal clock. Some days, I get lucky and my daughter sleeps in until 7 a.m., but let’s be real—that’s a rare occurrence. More often than not, she’s up between 5 and 6 a.m. And then there are those delightful mornings when she calls for me at 4 a.m., and all I want to do is pull the covers over my head and wish for a few more minutes of peace.
I want to sleep until 9, or even 10, if I’m being honest. I want to rise whenever I please without the pressure of preparing breakfast for a little one who will likely toss half of it onto the floor. I yearn for a meal without someone perched on my lap, begging for a bite while pulling my hair and diving into my plate. I crave a long, hot shower without an audience or the sound of a toddler wailing in the background.
I want to style my hair without someone tugging at my legs, seeking my attention. I want to apply my makeup properly, not in a rush while a tiny hand reaches for my brushes. I dream of dressing in nice clothes without worrying about food stains, boogers, or other unexpected messes. I long to drive my car fast with the windows down, blasting music loud enough to drown out my racing thoughts.
Shopping without a mental checklist of Goldfish snacks and nursery rhymes to keep my child entertained until I reach the checkout line sounds like a dream. I want to lie down for a nap without the nagging feeling that I should be tackling chores or checking off tasks from my to-do list. I want to clean my floors and actually enjoy the satisfaction of knowing they’ll stay clean for more than 10 minutes.
I want to watch something on TV that isn’t Peppa Pig or Frozen—again. I want to crawl into bed at night without the fear of being jolted awake by the sounds of a child needing comfort. I want just one day where I’m not consumed by thoughts of a small human who means everything to me.
But then I remember: I’m a mom. I hear the sweet sounds of my daughter’s voice calling for me throughout the day, and it fills my heart. I cherish the sparkle in her eyes when she spots a “big truck” or manages to slide down all by herself. Those crumbs on the floor? They signify family meals and the joy of sharing food together. The colorful crayon masterpieces adorning my walls are reminders of a curious little girl exploring her creativity.
I’ve learned that spilled milk isn’t worth the tears, and every cup can be refilled. Those long, hot showers are luxuries, and having a curious toddler peeking in isn’t so bad; it can even be funny at times. Shopping sprees at Target would lose their charm without my little sidekick, and I wouldn’t trade those extra expenses for anything. As it turns out, Peppa Pig isn’t all that terrible, and Frozen remains a favorite.
At the end of the day, I feel grateful for my home and the family that loves me as much as I love them. If I spent my days hiding under the covers, I’d miss out on life’s most precious moments. If you’re looking for more insights on the journey of motherhood, check out this post for additional thoughts.
For anyone considering their own journey into parenthood, I recommend exploring resources like the March of Dimes’ week-by-week pregnancy guide, which is an excellent reference for pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, if you’re interested in at-home insemination options, reputable retailers like this one offer fertility boosters for men and insemination kits.
In summary, while the desire for personal time is strong, the joys of motherhood—filled with laughter, love, and countless little moments—are what truly make life meaningful.
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