Dear Tired Mom at the Grocery Store,
I noticed you. Lunchables? Really? I heard your kid begging for popsicles, and saw you dive into the freezer, asking, “Which one do you want?”
As you rolled out of the store with your not-so-little one lounging in the cart, bombarding you with endless questions, I witnessed you close your eyes and take a deep breath before muttering, “Just…because. That’s just how it is.” You didn’t even give her a proper answer.
I saw you. I truly see you.
I am you.
There’s this unspoken belief that moms should be “on” all the time, like it’s some kind of never-ending performance. This idea has seeped into our minds, fueling the judgment and guilt fest that is the infamous mommy wars.
As imperfect beings, when we slip up, we’re expected to keep it under wraps. And if we do dare to share, it better come with a hefty dose of remorse and self-improvement. When I penned my piece “Dear Mom Who is Totally Messing Up,” I intended it as a reality check—a note of solidarity for every mother out there.
But then, of course, the internet did its thing. I was told to stop being so lazy.
Suddenly, I found myself feeling a chaotic mix of anger, sadness, defensiveness, and indignation that only a writer who reads the comments can understand.
I’m not lazy!
I’m just exhausted! I’m overwhelmed! I’m…well, okay, maybe I’m a bit lazy sometimes.
Here’s my moment of what passes for personal growth: I’m okay with it.
I’ve decided my goal isn’t to eradicate my laziness but to embrace it better. I’m multitasking my laziness into fantastic childhood experiences.
Honestly, some of my daughter’s most cherished memories stem from my occasional laziness. Just the other night, she threw a party for me—just because she thinks I’m kind of amazing. It ended with her giving me a pedicure in the hallway. I reclined on the floor, hands behind my head, savoring this bonding moment. Truth be told, I was just really, really tired.
And remember that time she played in the mud by the lake, drenching herself and pretending to be a sea monster? Sure, I typically let her go wild, but I knew I’d be regretting that when it was time to clean up. Still, I thought, “Future me can handle the mess.”
When my toddler decided to flip the dog’s water bowl, I just tossed down a towel and handed him some cups and spoons. I’m sure he’s learning valuable skills. I merely wanted to cook dinner.
When anxiety wraps around my mind, I can morph into the “no” monster, stifling all fun because of potential chaos. Please don’t bring out the paints right now!
Yet, when I manage to let go and accept the laziness of “I’ll tackle this later,” it often leads to the most memorable experiences for my kids—ones they’ll treasure forever.
I’m sure “tomorrow me” thinks I’m terrible.
And my kids will never know that the kitchen experiments and messes often stem from my own laziness and hunger.
Who hasn’t played the “Who can stay quiet the longest?” game, or pretended to be sick, lying still while they play doctor?
Sure, there’s always room for improvement. If you think otherwise, you’re probably mistaken. Sometimes, my laziness rears its head in less helpful ways—the “because I said so” moments.
Most of the time, though, laziness and creativity blend beautifully like blue and red play-dough that I was too worn out to separate.
Someday, long after I’m gone, I can picture my son reminiscing, “Remember that time Mom let us draw on the walls with chalk?” And his sister will chime in, “And all the glitter?”
So, maybe I am lazy sometimes. And maybe that’s perfectly fine.
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Summary:
In this humorous yet relatable letter, a mother reflects on the challenges of parenting while confronting the societal pressure to be the perfect mom. She shares her own experiences of feeling lazy, yet recognizes that those moments often lead to valuable childhood memories. Embracing her imperfections, she finds comfort in the fact that being a little lazy can still create meaningful bonding experiences with her children.