“Mama, why are you always so grumpy?” My five-year-old’s curious question pierced through the fog of my exhaustion. With wide, innocent eyes, she stood before me like a tiny apparition in her purple silk bonnet and star-patterned pajamas. What she doesn’t realize is that her nightly incursions—often around 2 AM—take a toll on my well-being.
At her tender age, it’s difficult for her to grasp how these disruptions affect my ability to be patient and attentive. I often find myself thinking, “I can’t be grumpy all the time, can I?” But, after more than a decade of motherhood, I sometimes do feel that way.
Juggling Multiple Roles
As the primary caretaker, I wear many hats: chef, teacher, mediator, and advocate, to name a few. Add to that the demands of a 9-to-5 job, and it can feel overwhelming. Each day, I strive to fulfill these roles, often at the expense of my own needs. With chronic sleep deprivation as my background music, maintaining a cheerful demeanor becomes challenging, leaving me wondering if my children ever see the real me.
Much like a dedicated performer on stage, I attempt to deliver my best. However, the small yet perceptive audience of my children seems to have noticed my strained voice and fatigue. I execute my ‘role’ as a mother, but the effort sometimes feels more like a frantic scramble than a choreographed dance.
The Weight of Responsibilities
Reflecting on my daughter’s question, I am reminded of an uncomfortable truth: while I love my children deeply, there are days when the responsibilities of motherhood can feel suffocating. I find myself resenting the mundane tasks—reminding them to find their water bottles, managing iPad arguments, and even the looming threat of parting with our pet tortoise if they forget to feed him.
Looking back, I realize this is a stark contrast to the timid person I used to be—someone who wouldn’t speak up when her name was mispronounced. My journey as a mother has reshaped my identity in ways I never anticipated; I’ve become bolder, more resilient, and ironically, more anxious. Yet, I often ponder whether I have lost too much of the former me.
Finding the Balance
Each time I welcome a new child into the world, I eagerly await the sensation of finding myself again. But with each passing day, it feels increasingly like that person is slipping out of reach. In rare moments, I can hear her voice—a reminder that I am still an individual with dreams and aspirations.
Sometimes, I wish I could break the ‘fourth wall’ of motherhood and share a secret with my kids: “This isn’t the real me. The real me dreams of far-off adventures, writes novels, and enjoys leisurely afternoons with a glass of rosé. The person you see—the stressed-out version—is just one part of me.”
When confiding in a coworker grappling with her own teenage struggles, the connection was palpable. Like me, she felt that all her efforts only seemed to push her child further away. Together, we sighed over the irony of giving our all yet feeling like we’ve fallen short.
Embracing a New Approach
In a moment of clarity, I advised her to consider doing less. It wasn’t about caring less; instead, it was about conserving energy that often feels wasted. I encouraged her to think about the possibility of her son seeking her out for advice rather than her constantly trying to prod him into action. She responded with enthusiasm, and I realized I could benefit from a similar philosophy.
How might my life change if I could ease up on the pressure I place on myself? What if I could juggle my responsibilities without feeling resentful? While I don’t have all the answers, I recognize the desire to feel lighter, more joyful, and genuinely present in my child’s life. My performance of motherhood may never achieve perfection, but striving for a sense of playfulness can pave the way for deeper connections.
Next time my daughter inquires about my mood, I plan to respond differently. Instead of letting her question linger in the air, I’ll initiate a playful moment, tickling her until laughter replaces tension, allowing us both to revel in the joy of the everyday.
