Today, I’m raising my hands in surrender to motherhood. I can’t carry on like this any longer. Last night, my little one decided that 3 a.m. was the ideal time for some late-night TV, and I spent over an hour trying to convince him otherwise. At our Mommy and Me class, he nearly dashed into a parking lot full of buses. After class, he lay on the floor, sobbing because the teacher forgot to sing “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.”
Picking up my 8-year-old from school is always an emotional rollercoaster. His teachers rave about how he’s an angel, but the moment he sees me, all of his day’s frustrations come rushing out. He bounced out of class, slammed his backpack against my stomach, and complained that I forgot to pack chocolate milk for lunch. Then, in a burst of energy, he tossed his coat into my arms and dashed off to the playground.
Both of my boys were having the time of their lives outside, climbing trees, chasing balls, and running up slides. They were good to their friends, sharing snacks and catching anyone who stumbled. I adore watching them play in the crisp autumn air; they bring a smile to my face. But when it was time to leave, the mood shifted dramatically. My older son wanted to go immediately, while my younger one was reluctant. There was a tug-of-war, with my older son pulling my younger one by his coat. After a brief struggle, I managed to separate them and threatened to revoke screen time. Finally, I resorted to bribery to get them to leave, but the walk home was still a test of patience. My older son corrected everything my younger one said, while the little one dashed ahead, nearly running into traffic.
Typically, I extend grace to them. I recognize that their troublesome behavior stems from being kids—they are good kids, and I’m grateful to have them. I understand that it’s healthy for them to express their feelings with me, their trusted mom. I normally allow them to cry in my arms and test the waters of my patience.
But today? Today, I was at my breaking point. I felt like a personal assistant rather than a mother. I felt exposed and vulnerable. I realized I wanted my feelings to matter too.
When we arrived home, I was determined to make a change. I thought, “Enough is enough.” The boys tossed their shoes into the hallway, and I calmly but firmly instructed them to put them on the shoe rack. I wasn’t yelling; I was asserting myself.
My older son protested, but the younger one complied quickly—he knows when I’m serious. The older one followed suit but immediately leaned into me with a sheepish grin, revealing his crooked teeth. He claimed he was starving and asked for a bagel and lemonade, then dashed off to start his screen time.
I halted him: “Okay, get the toaster and grab a cup from the cupboard.” He looked at me as if I had three heads and began to whimper, “I’m tired.” I felt for him, but today I responded honestly, “I’m tired too. I need your help.”
He whimpered again but eventually pulled up a stool and reached for the cup. The same dynamic unfolded when I asked him to take out his homework and lunchbox. He hesitated for a moment, then complied.
The younger one wanted a bagel too and began to whine. I requested that he ask nicely. “Pweeze?” he said, his bright green eyes sparkling.
Before long, my older son was telling me about his day, adjusting the toaster settings, and helping his little brother get a cup for juice. Laughter filled the room as they interacted with each other and me. My older son even asked about a story I recently published, while my younger one played with my hair. They were helping and being kind, and I felt acknowledged and respected.
Although I usually expect cooperation and have established rules with consequences, it’s often easier to let things slide or lose my temper. But today was different. Today, I recognized that my needs are just as important as theirs. As their mother, I deserve to express what I want and stand up for myself.
I shared my truth: “I need your help,” because I genuinely did. I wasn’t barking orders or enforcing rules; I was being open about what I needed from them.
To my surprise, they listened. They cared. They reciprocated the love I give them every day. If there’s nothing in this parenting journey for me, then there’s nothing in it for my kids either. Moving forward, I will ensure that I matter too. I will communicate my feelings, ask for assistance, and embrace my humanity. I’ll still be their mom—the one who comforts them, prepares snacks after a long day, and does everything in my power to support them. But I’ll also pay attention to that voice inside me that insists my needs and feelings are valid, and I will let her voice be heard.
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Summary
This article captures the raw and honest emotions of motherhood, illustrating the daily challenges and triumphs faced by a mother of two energetic boys. It emphasizes the importance of self-advocacy and the need for mothers to express their feelings and seek help from their children, ultimately fostering a healthier dynamic in the family.
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