As the school year kicks off, I find myself back in the driver’s seat for my afternoon routine, transporting kids from one destination to another. My youngest, Lily, hops into the car, buzzing with excitement about a raccoon named Chester that’s been causing chaos at her preschool. Though I suspect Chester is a figment of her imagination, I nod along absentmindedly, mentally juggling my to-do list. I’m merely a Robot Mom, cruising through the motions toward the next stop.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s asked, “Isn’t that so funny, Mommy?” and I respond with a half-hearted chuckle, “Oh? Yes, it’s hilarious!” Clearly, Robot Mom is out of touch.
As I navigate familiar streets, making careful stops at intersections and crossing train tracks, I hardly notice the neighborhood changes—a house for sale, another with a new porch. Soon, I pick up my middle child, Jake. Instead of a cheerful jump, he slinks into the car, adopting the classic slouch of a pre-teen. The conversation dynamic shifts; I’m the one firing off questions, met with terse replies.
“Did you hand in your notecards?” I ask, and he nods. “Who did you sit with at lunch?” “The usual,” he retorts. “Did you have a good day?” I get an eye roll and a faint smile in return. It’s clear we’re both frustrated—me for the short exchanges, him for the incessant questioning. I sigh and tighten my grip on the wheel, turning up the radio to drown out the tension.
A little squabble erupts as Lily sings along too loudly, prompting Jake to complain about the repetitiveness of the song. I glance ahead, feeling like a broken record myself. “Just stop it, you guys. Please?” I mutter, unsure if I even said it out loud; the noise continues unabated.
Next, I pull up to pick up my eldest, Mia, who bursts out of her second-grade classroom. She doesn’t slink or hop; she leaps into her seat, buckling in with enthusiasm. “Hi, everyone! Did you know sharks have rows of teeth? Some even eat plankton!” she announces, with Jake chiming in to correct her. “It’s plankton.”
Mia’s excitement is contagious as she shares more shark trivia, and to my surprise, the mood in the car transforms. Suddenly, the preschooler stops her singing, the middle-schooler drops his sulk, and all three kids are giggling about how sharks make “poo.” The atmosphere shifts from mundane to joyful, and in that moment, I decide to let go of my Robot Mom persona. I turn off the music and engage with their laughter, offering genuine responses to their chatter.
It’s all too easy to slip into autopilot amidst the chaos of daily life. As my children grow, their dependence on me shifts. They no longer need my watchful eye as they navigate stairs or avoid choking hazards. While I cherish the newfound freedom, I also recognize the importance of being present. They deserve my attention, not just my physical presence.
Motherhood has never been about going through the motions. I’ve fought for these kids since before they were born, advocating for their health through countless appointments and sleepless nights. I’ve been their storyteller, their comforter, and their guide.
In the hustle of daily routines, I often feel like a chauffeur, a cook, or an event planner. But above all, I am their mother, and they need me to be engaged. Rather than simply being a Robot Mom, I want them to feel our connection amid the daily grind.
I know I won’t be able to avoid becoming Robot Mom entirely; there will be days when exhaustion takes over. But I hope to catch myself in those moments and remind myself to be present. After all, I don’t want to miss out on another fascinating fact about sharks or any other stories they share.
In time, that backseat will grow quiet, and the days of sharing classroom tales will fade. I’ll long for those moments filled with laughter and curiosity, where I can’t help but smile at their eager faces in the rearview mirror. But for now, I embrace the noise, the messiness, and the joy of parenting, knowing this stage is just as precious as the quiet moments in the nursery.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the challenges of modern parenting, illustrating the importance of being present and engaged with children. The author acknowledges the ease of slipping into autopilot but ultimately emphasizes the need to cherish the noise and joy of family life.