Getting Real About Being a Happier Mom
Okay, let’s talk about this whole ‘happy mother’ thing. For ages, I felt like I was just drowning. Seriously. Trying to be everything for everyone, especially my kids. The house, the meals, the school runs, the endless laundry… it just piled up. And me? I was running on empty. Like, fumes. Forget happy, I was just trying to survive the day without screaming or crying. Usually failing at the crying part, if I’m honest.
I remember this one Tuesday, it wasn’t even anything major. Just spilled milk, literally. And I just lost it. Sat on the kitchen floor and just sobbed. My kid was looking at me like I’d grown a second head. That was kind of a wake-up call. I realized I couldn’t pour from an empty cup. Cliché, I know, but it hit me hard right then.
So, what did I actually do? It wasn’t like flicking a switch. It was messy. First, I had to admit I couldn’t do it all. Sounds simple, right? Felt like admitting failure. But I did it. I actually sat my husband down. Didn’t blame him, just said, “Look, I’m sinking here. I need help.” We talked about specific things. Not just ‘help more’, but like:
- You handle bath time three nights a week.
- You take over the grocery shopping, planning and all.
- I need one hour totally alone on Saturday mornings. Non-negotiable.
It felt weird asking. Like, really weird. Selfish, even. I’d always just handled things. But you know what? He was okay with it. Surprised, maybe, but okay. It wasn’t perfect, sometimes things got missed, but it was a start. Actually asking was the big step.
Then I started reaching out more. Called my sister just to vent, didn’t even need advice half the time, just someone to listen who got it. Accepted help when friends offered – “Yes, please bring dinner!” instead of “Oh no, we’re fine!” Took up reading again, just for 15 minutes before bed. Tiny things.
It’s Not Selfish, It’s Survival Gear
It wasn’t some magic cure. There are still hard days. Days I feel overwhelmed. But it’s different now. I know I need to look after myself to be able to look after them. It’s not selfish; it’s like putting on your own oxygen mask first. You have to.
I stopped trying to be the ‘perfect’ mom you see online. That’s garbage. Real life is messy. Real moms get tired. Real moms need help. Admitting that and actually doing something about it? That’s where things started to shift. It wasn’t about raising perfect kids; it was about raising me into a mother who wasn’t constantly running on empty. And yeah, turns out, a less stressed-out me is definitely a happier me. And probably a better mom too, even with the occasional messy kitchen floor.
