To me, motherhood is a roller coaster ride filled with emotions of love, joy, selflessness, and responsibility. Being a mother also means countless sleepless nights, finger-paints in the kitchen, big belly laughs, and stubbed toes. While motherhood lets me see the world through my child’s eyes and has made my life more colorful than ever, there are times when I crave for a few minutes of peace and tranquility.
My son started going to kindergarten a while ago, and since then, mornings at my house look no less than a battle-field. It’s filled with tantrums, wails, and several meltdowns. With my little one finally settled at kindergarten, I get three hours to myself—and if you think that three hours is enough for me to #chill, then you have gotten it all wrong. Frankly, a conversation around motherhood has always been a taboo. It’s considered boring and gross. That’s why I have decided to take you through those three hours of my day, giving a glimpse of what the everyday realities of being a mom look like.
Read on to hear more about the #realtalk on motherhood:
The First Hour
A quick glance at the clock—it’s 8:55 a.m. I have three hours to clean the mess left behind by my husband and child, cook lunch, and take a shower. I look at my living room, which now resembles the aftermath of a tornado. The sofa is filled with pages of newspapers and bits and pieces of tiny blocks and puzzles. At this moment, I can hear my stomach grumble and head towards the kitchen to make myself a warm cup of coffee and put the leftover upma on my plate.
While I stood in the kitchen, savoring every sip of the coffee, something felt sticky under my feet. Oh! The little one spilled milk again! Finding my dining table crammed with scattered books, bottles, cups, and laptop, I decided to head over to my sofa to finish my breakfast. As I reached for my notepad to chalk down the to-do list and grabbed my phone to play music, a text message popped up—it was from my mom. It read, “Call me if you are free!”
The Second Hour
It had been a while since I talked to mom wholeheartedly. I glanced at the clock once again—it was 9:55 a.m. Wow! An hour passed that quickly? Alright, 20 minutes on the call with mom, and then I get back to housework. During the call, mom inquired about my life, asked about my culinary experiments, and discussed what was happening in the neighborhood.
Half an hour passed by, and I wanted to be ‘free’ soon. Soon, I was multitasking—decluttering the living room, putting out my son’s toys, and setting aside clothes for laundry. As I proceeded to say goodbye to mom, she said, “You have three hours now; why can’t you talk a little longer?” I didn’t feel the urge to reply to her and disconnected the call after a hasty bye.
Having fixed the living room, I walked towards the bedroom. My phone beeped once again. It was my best friend, “Hey, enjoying your three hours of free time? Oh, how I wish I had three hours to myself like you. I can’t wait for my little one to start playschool.” I quickly clicked a picture of the tornado hit bedroom and sent her. “Sure, if you want to describe this as enjoying my free time!” I replied.
The Final Hour
Ah! My back hurts. The time is flying by so quickly. I still have to shower! Gone are my dreams of a refreshing 20-minute shower. Oh, I have to cook lunch too. The phone beeped again. It was my friend asking me if I wanted to join her yoga class. ” I chase my son all day long; I don’t need yoga,” I replied. “Oh, come on now, you have three hours to yourself, you can manage to find some time!” was her reply. Paying no heed to it, I rushed to take a shower. It was already 11:00 a.m.
As soon as I came out of the shower, I heard the bell ring. It was my maid. She came to say that she would be on leave for the next two days. “Anyway, you have three hours, you won’t have a problem,” she said. Annoyed, I glared at her and thought, “Yes, give me the address of all the houses where you work; I will work for them too. After all, I have three hours.” My phone beeped again. It seemed as if the world was waiting for these three hours and that they were after it. This time it was my husband. “Honey, I forgot to order my medicines. Can you place the order? You have three hours to yourself right?” I placed the order and replied, ‘Done.’
I glanced at the clock again. It was 11:30 p.m. already. I hurriedly chopped the vegetables and prepared khichdi. At 5 minutes to noon, I bolted the door and raced down the stairs at the speed of light. As I turned on the car engine, I realized I was still wearing my house slippers. But no time to change now.
As I rushed to pick up my son, I thought to myself, “Are these three hours really a blessing? Or just a curse?”
What do you have to say about the ‘three hours of your day?’ Leave your thoughts in the comments below.