I’m not quite sure what’s causing it. Is it the sweltering heat? The fact that my youngest is now a rambunctious toddler, constantly on the move? Or perhaps the collective restlessness of all my kids? Whatever it is, this summer feels particularly challenging compared to those in the past. My to-do list seems endless, yet I find myself apathetic to it all, preferring to lose myself in a good book instead.
Meals are prepared, lunches are packed, and kids are driven to their various activities, but I’m functioning on autopilot. The mantra “fake it till you make it” plays over and over in my mind like an old cassette tape stuck on repeat. After a decade of parenting, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever truly figure it all out.
Each day feels like a carbon copy of the last. My youngest and I often make trips to the supermarket, simply to escape the four walls of our home. The playground is too crowded, the park is sweltering, and the beach seems like an overwhelming task. Maybe I’m just being lazy? Who knows. Lately, I feel completely immobilized, and that frustration gnaws at me. Despite having everything I could possibly want, I still crave something more, something indefinable, something extraordinary—and that drives me a little crazy. The funk is real.
During today’s grocery run, I gather my essentials, treat my little one to a free cookie, and find myself in a checkout line behind a mother with her three kids. I can’t help but see my own chaotic life reflected in hers. I notice her cheerful kids and a container of ice pops in her cart, and I smile as her two-year-old clutches a red pop like it’s the best treasure in the world. Her sons are pleading for candy and a Redbox movie, and she expertly shoos them away, just like I do with my boys.
I appreciate her vibe. Our eyes meet, and we strike up a conversation. It turns out we share more than just a parenting connection; we both look overwhelmed and outnumbered. She’s the first adult I’ve genuinely spoken to today, and the first person in a week who didn’t have demands for me.
As we chat, I realize how much I need these moments of connection, perhaps more than I’m willing to acknowledge. The clerk struggles with a BOGO bread offer that isn’t ringing up correctly, and the mother apologizes for the delay. I wish I had the courage to mention my funk, but instead, I think, “Take your time; this is the best part of my day!”
As I leave the store, the funk is still hanging around. I’m still searching for that elusive something, the extraordinary that’s beyond the daily grind of diapers, screen time, and sports practices. Maybe it’s something just for me, something I can call my own. Perhaps it’s as simple as a meaningful conversation with a stranger in line.
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Summary:
This piece reflects the struggle of summer parenting, highlighting feelings of overwhelm and a search for connection amidst daily routines. The author finds solace in a brief encounter with another mother, reminding us of the importance of community and self-care.