“Of course I love my kids,” I assert, yet I can’t help but feel a twinge of truth in that statement. Perhaps it’s revealing when I add “of course” to my declaration.
Let me clarify: “I love my children. I truly do. But…” Yes, I also revel in the moments I spend away from them. It’s a refreshing escape that I genuinely enjoy.
During their younger years, my favorite time of day was bedtime. I know many parents share this sentiment, but I might have cherished it just a bit more. Bedtime meant freedom for me—a brief chance to reclaim my identity. I could read, tidy up, watch TV, or simply enjoy solitude. No one pulling at my sleeves or whining for attention. No fights to settle, no meals to prepare, and no homework to supervise. Just me, enjoying a mini-vacation from the responsibilities of motherhood.
Tucking them in was always followed by a little victory dance down the hallway once the doors were shut and the lights dimmed. My arms raised in triumph.
I’m convinced this is why many mothers turn into both wine enthusiasts and night owls. We desperately need a moment to breathe and to not be “Mom.”
The sight of the school bus was a welcome relief. Watching my kids climb aboard and drive away filled me with uncontainable joy—an exhilaration like nothing else. Even if I returned home to clean or prepare dinner, at least I could do so uninterrupted. I could plop down on the couch with a bowl of buttered noodles and binge-watch my favorite shows without a care in the world. An empty house quickly became my sanctuary.
I also adored playdates. When my kids ventured off to a friend’s house, it felt like magic. I always reciprocated, of course, but the second they hopped out of my car, it was as if the heavens opened up, showering me with butterflies and rainbows.
For a couple of hours, I was free from the weight of responsibility. I didn’t have to shape their futures or worry about saying the wrong thing. I could simply exist without being the nurturing, guiding force they relied on. For a little while, I didn’t have to run the Mom Store.
Taking a break from the daily grind of motherhood made all the difference in how rejuvenated I felt when it was time to return. And now that they’re older, my feelings haven’t changed. I relish it when they have plans and aren’t home. I like being able to worry from a distance instead of up close.
I might be too candid, but this is my truth. And truth matters.
To clarify, I still lie awake at night thinking about them. My love for them is fierce and unconditional. I cherish our time together. If they’re unhappy, I feel it. If they’re struggling, I struggle alongside them. If they find themselves in a tough spot, guess who’s racing out the door, half-dressed and half-asleep, to rescue them? Who spends hours discussing their challenges and offering support? Who decorates the house for Christmas and whips up delicious breakfast sandwiches? I’m always there for them, but I also enjoy the moments when I’m not needed.
In fact, I love that freedom. I hope that resonates with others.
I see no issue with these feelings. I’ve earned my break from the relentless demands of motherhood. I’ve nurtured my children into responsible, independent adults who don’t require my constant presence. They can pursue their lives while I enjoy mine, and it’s a delightful arrangement.
They know my door is always open, even if I’m lounging in the back room with a bowl of buttered noodles.
If you’re interested in exploring more about home insemination, check out our other blog post here. For those looking into the specifics of artificial insemination, visit Cryobaby for expert insights. Additionally, for a comprehensive understanding of pregnancy week by week, March of Dimes offers excellent resources.
In summary, it’s perfectly okay to love your children deeply while also valuing your own time apart. A little space can invigorate our spirits and strengthen our relationships.