Don't Wait Til We're Asleep — Revisited
Originally written in 2020. Still true, but now with deeper roots.
My children are no longer the small little people who needed help brushing their teeth or tying their shoes. They're older now. More independent. More self-aware. They move with more confidence in the world. But at night — in that sacred, quiet space between wakefulness and dreams — they still call out for me:
“Don’t wait ‘til we’re asleep, Mommy.”
That line still gets me.
Even now, years later, they want me to come into their rooms before sleep takes them. They want to feel me kiss them goodnight. They want hugs, they want prayers, they want to know — not just guess — that I’m there.
And I show up. Tired, sometimes. Overwhelmed, often. But present. Because the privilege of being chosen by your children — even as they grow — is one I try not to take for granted.
A New Kind of Heavy
Since the original post, life has shifted. I’m no longer a married “single” mother — I’m a single single mother. Their dad and I separated almost a year ago.
The load is heavier now.
But I am carrying it.
There are days when it feels like too much. And yet, I wake up, prep lunches, answer emails, negotiate speaker fees, schedule appointments, stretch myself — then stretch again — because somehow there is always more to do. And in the quietest moments of the day, when the house stills, I remind myself:
You are allowed to need, too.
What Keeps Me Whole
Even with everything on my plate, I make space for me.
I laugh (hard) with friends
I sit in silence and let the quiet heal me
I date (yes, often)
I talk on the phone late into the night
I binge shows and refuse to feel guilty about it
I move my body — stretch, dance, strength train, etc.
I meditate
I breathe
These rituals aren’t selfish — they’re necessary. Because as consuming as motherhood is (and let’s be honest — it is all-consuming), I can only pour into my children when I am pouring into myself first.
I used to think being a good mother meant self-sacrifice. Now, I know it means self-honoring. And yes, they still need me — not just to manage their logistics, but to nurture their hearts. And they flourish most when I’m flourishing, too.
Simple Tools for Holding Both
If you’re a mother, caregiver, nurturer — this is your gentle reminder:
You’re allowed to hold both — the exhaustion and the joy, the duty and the desire for freedom.
Here are a few things that help me stay grounded:
Schedule your time like you schedule theirs. Make your needs non-negotiable.
Say “not tonight” without guilt. You can love them fully and still need time alone.
Name your needs out loud. Especially in front of your kids. Teach them how to honor theirs by watching you.
Let some things go undone. The dishes can wait. Your peace cannot.
Celebrate small wins. Tucking them in and taking a walk alone? That’s balance or as I prefer to call it, harmony.
Winning Looks Different Now
So tonight, I’ll tuck them in again. I’ll press a kiss to their cheeks. I’ll whisper that I love them forever and always and that I hope they sleep well.
And then?
I’ll pour a glass of wine or tea. Call a friend. Or sit in total silence.
Because I matter, too.
Some nights I honor their wishes. Other nights, I honor mine. And that... is what I call winning — for all of us.
Happy Momming. Happy Loving. Happy Living.
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