Category Archives: Family Life

13. A Journey of Sleepless Love: Between Two Homes and Countless Emotions

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A Journey of Sleepless Love: Between Two Homes and Countless Emotionshttps://mysticalmomworld.com/when-everything-feels-messed-up-mothers-sy/it

A Journey of Sleepless Love

 

The Sleepless Night That Began It All

The night before had no sleep in – not because I wasn’t tired, but because I was a mother on alert. As the train sped through the dark, I stayed half-awake, guarding my little world. My elder daughter slept peacefully on the upper berth, wrapped in innocence, while I watched over her with love stronger than sleep.

Every few minutes, I’d adjust her blanket, check on her, and make sure she was safe. My eyes were heavy, but my heart was awake – a mother’s instinct never rests.

Morning Light, Family Warmth

By dawn, my daughters woke up cheerful as always, followed by my husband’s sleepy smile. We greeted each other softly – our own little “good morning” orchestra. The train wheels clattered in rhythm, and laughter slowly filled the compartment.

While they played and gazed outside, I pulled out my laptop to finish the pending work. Between emails and laughter, we played a riddle game – something small, yet stitched joy into our tired morning.

The Bhel Ritual That Connects Generations

And then came our travel favourite – bhel time.

I have followed this ritual for 20 years – no train food, except that one spicy, tangy bhel we  have it together. It started when I was  a teenager, and now my kids carry it forward.

It’s amazing how simple things – like bhel in a moving train can become the thread that connects generations. That’s love in it’s simplest form.

The Surprise Visit – A Mother’s Warm Embrace

When we reached the city, instead of heading straight to my in-laws house, we decided to surprise my parents first. The moment they saw us – especially my daughters – their eyes filled with tears of joy.

My mother hugged them tightly, her hands trembling with love. My father’s smile spoke everything his words couldn’t. It’s amazing how parents never expect anything, yet give everything. Their love is the kind of home that never fades.

Between Two Homes – Where Love Meets Indifference

Then came the part  that always tests my heart – arriving at my in-laws house. Every visit feels uncertain. Would there be warmth or just the same quiet indifference? Sadly, it was the letter.

We were told to wait outside for nearly two hours because of madi – a ritual about purity. My daughters were tired and hungry, yet no one seemed moved. Ironically, when a friend stopped by, my mother-in-law served him coffee – while we sat outside.

I smiled through the ache, reminding myself – love should never depend on how others treat you.

A Meal, A Gesture, and Unspoken Feelings

Later, a relative invited us for breakfast. The food was delicious, their care made it taste even better. They even gifted us new clothes for an upcoming puja – thoughtful, though I didn’t quiet like them.

Still, I kept my calm and smiled. Some days, we don’t need to love everything – we just need to honor the intension behind it.

Work, Rituals, and an Unexpected Call of Love

After returning, I worked for a while on my laptop and helped with cleaning for the rituals ahead. They, my mother called – insisting we buy new clothes from their side too. My father transferred money instantly, his quiet love speaking through actions.

So, my husband, our younger daughter, and I went shopping. Despite his old leg injury and surgeries, my husband rode the gear bike, Watching him push through pain reminded me – strength isn’t loud; it’s quiet endurance.

A Mother’s Warmth and a Sister’s Smile

We stopped by my parents house again. My mother handed me a large bag filled with new clothes for everyone, including my in-laws. My sister served us festive snacks and laughter – that sweet kind of warmth that money can’t buy.

Night, Silence, and Grace

By evening, we returned home in my parents car. Dinner was quiet, conversations careful. When everyone slept, I stayed up – finishing chores, folding clothes, arranging for the next day.

Finally, past midnight, I opened my laptop again. Working late has become my way to find peace amid chaos. The day hadn’t been perfect – but it had grace.

Because life teaches us this simple truth – we can’t control how others treat us, but we can control how we carry our hearts through it.

Reflections: The Journey Beyond Distance

Not every journey is about distance – some are about emotional miles. Not every home feels like one – some only echo with expectations. But still, we walk, love, and hope – because somewhere, the love we give becomes our light in darkness.

When I watched my daughters sleep that night, I promised myself – their childhood will be filled with love, not bitterness. Because I choose to be the love I never received.

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6857243/

12. A Sleepless Night and a Journey of Love

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12. A Sleepless Night and a Journey of Love: A Mother’s Day Before Maramma Jatrehttps://mysticalmomworld.com/feeling-like-the-odd-one-out/

A Sleepless Night and a Journey of Love

 

Some days in a mother’s life are not just busy – they are unforgettable journeys of love, patience, and strength. Last night was one such day for me. We had slept very late, almost around 1 AM, yet by 6 AM, I was up again. The alarm clock was my mind itself – reminding me that I had to send my elder daughter to school and my husband to the office. No matter how tired I was, my heart didn’t let me rest because my family’s day had to start smoothly.

Morning Hustle Before Maramma Jatre

I prepared breakfast and packed the snacks box for my elder one. She had only a half day at school since it was Maramma Jatre, a local festival that brings spiritual energy and cultural celebration to our town. My little angel woke up with sleepy eyes, rubbing them gently as if pleading for five more minutes of sleep. But as always, her sweet smile and cheerful spirit made the morning brighter. We laughed, teased each other, and started the day with joy instead of rush.

Soon, my elder one and husband left for school and office, leaving me with my younger one still fast asleep. That peaceful silence – right after everyone leaves – is something every mother knows. I used it wisely to finish my packing, as that very day we were leaving for our hometown.

The Packing Marathon

“Oh God,” I kept saying to myself, “there’s so much to pack!” Every mother has this invisible checklist in her head, yet somehow we always feel something is forgotten. I wanted to ensure everything was perfect, from clothes to medicines, from kids snacks to chargers – every detail mattered because the journey was 14 hours long by train.

My husband was advised by the doctor not to lift heavy luggage, so I divided everything smartly into two trolleys, one tuck-back bag, and a laptop bag. It might sound simple, but the mental load of remembering every small thing for a family trip is enormous. Yet, as mothers, we carry it with pride.

By afternoon, my elder one returned from school. I decided not to go to the shop that day – family came first. I fed both my kids a wholesome lunch and started preparing homemade food for the train journey. I wanted them to eat healthy, comforting meals – something warm from home, not station food.

A Quick Dash for Gifts and Goodbyes

In the middle of this chaos, I realized I needed to buy a gift for my niece. So I took both my kids and went out shopping. Thankfully, we finished everything within 20 minutes! Back home, I made sure the house was clean, all switches turned off, gas checked, and things safely locked before leaving for 10 – 11 days.

It’s funny – every time I leave my house, I whisper a little prayer: “Deva, protect this home, and bless our journey.”

The Rush to the Railway Station

Our cab arrived right on time. My husband was to meet us directly at the station after work. The cab driver drove quite fast, overtaking vehicles as if we were on a racetrack. In a calm yet firm tone, I told him in kannada, “Anna, namge urgent yenu ella” (Brother, we’re not in a hurry). He smiled and slowed down. It was a small but beautiful moment of human connection – a reminder that respect and kindness always travel faster than speed.

We reached the station about half an hour before my husband. I waited with my daughters in the waiting hall, watching people rush around – some emotional goodbyes, some excited reunions, and some, like me, holding onto both children and luggage, managing everything in silence.

The Challenge of Luggage and Steps

When my husband arrived, I asked him to just hold the kids hands while I managed the luggage. I was shocked when the coolie asked for almost the price of our train ticket to carry our bags! Without hesitation, I decided to carry it all myself.

There were 28 steps to climb – two trolleys, a tuck-back, and a laptop bag – and I carried them all, one by one. My husband watched with pride and a little worry, but I felt empowered. At that moment, I wasn’t just a mother or a wife – I I was my own strength. When we finally reached our platform, I took a deep breath and silently thanked Lord Ganesha for the energy.

A Train Ride Full of Emotions

Once we boarded the train, everything seemed to settle. The rhythmic sound of the train wheels always has a magical way of calming the mind. My parents kept calling repeatedly, insisting that they would pick us up and that I should drop them and take the car. I said “No,” even though my parents were heartbroken. It’s strange how love sometimes means saying no for the right reasons.

As the train started moving, my kids said they were hungry. I opened the food boxes I had packed lovingly – rotis, sabji, some sweets – we shared our meal as the train swayed gently. There’s something sacred about eating food cooked with love during a journey – it feels like home even when you’re miles away.

Motherhood Never Sleeps

After dinner, I helped my daughters settle into their berths. The younger one struggled to fall asleep, tossing and turning. It was past 2 AM, when she finally dozed off. I couldn’t open my laptop or do any pending work. My husband and I kept a close watch on our elder one, who was sleeping alone on the opposite berth. She’s 7 now – independent but still our baby. We both made sure no one disturbed her and that she didn’t roll off the seat.

As the train moved through the silent night, I stayed awake, gazing at the dimly lit compartment. I saw people of every kind – some kind-hearted, some with rough behaviour, some unhygienic, some caring. Each face told a story, each story a reflection of humanity itself.

Somewhere between exhaustion and contentment, I realized – a mother’s journey never pauses. Even in sleepless nights and heavy luggage, in forgotten items and endless checklists, there’s a quite beauty – the beauty of giving without expecting.

Reflections of Gratitude

By morning, I was still awake but my heart was full. Watching my family sleep peacefully – my husband beside me, my daughters in their blankets – I felt blessed. Life might be tiring, but it is also tender. Every challenge, every sleepless night, every bit of struggle brings us closer to the meaning of love and responsibility.

This was not just a train journey – it was a journey of motherhood, a story of endurance and care that  every woman silently lives through.

And as the first rays of dawn touched the train window, I whispered a silent prayer to Mahadev – “Thank you for the strength, thank you for this love.”

Takeaway:

Every day in a woman’s life is a story of divine balance – between duty and love, strength and softness, self-care and sacrifice. Whether you are traveling, working, or just managing your family’s routine, remember – you are enough, you are strong, and your journey itself is sacred.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maramma

1. A Mother’s Sunday Symphony: Juggling Tantrums…

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A Mother’s Sunday Symphony: Juggling Tantrums…https://mysticalmomworld.com/dividing-house-chores-changed-my-peace-parenting-and-practice/

A Mother’s Sunday Symphony: Juggling Tantrums…Sunday. The world itself sounds like a promise of rest, a pause from the hectic rhythm of the week. But for  mother of two – one 7 years old and full of energy, and another 2 years old and brimming with curiosity – Sunday is less of a pause and more of a symphony of responsibilities, love, and chaos.

This is the story of one such Sunday.

  • Morning: The Menu of Love

The day begins early. The little one tugs at my  saree, chanting her favourite demand; “Amma, take me, I don’t want food!”

A Mother’s Sunday Symphony: Juggling Tantrums…

 

Meanwhile, my 7 years old insists that Sundays must mean something special – not the regular breakfast.

So, I become not just a mother, but also a master chef of wishes. Within minutes, the kitchen is filled with the aroma of crispy dosas, coconut chutney, and hot milk. For the elder one, i secretly add an extra treat – chocolate pancakes.

But cooking with two kids isn’t always picture-perfect. The toddler throws tantrums if I ask her to eat, runs around, cries, restless and demanding at the moment. If I raise my voice even slightly, she bursts into tears – and those tears aren’t simple. They often end with her nose blocked, coughing, and catching a cold that lingers for 15 to 20 days. Every word I speak has to be measured, every correction has to be soft.

The elder one doesn’t quite understand these delicate pauses. When I stop midway to calm her sister, she gets irritated. She asks endless questions – sometimes innocent, sometimes downright silly. And when I don’t answer, she repeats them louder, more annoyingly, until I sigh in exhaustion. Yes, I know these “annoying questions” are her way of seeking my time, my attention.

Still, the first bite of dosa and pancake brings smiles, that’s all the morning magic I need to keep going.

  • Afternoon Adventure: 21 kilometers of Commitment

If motherhood is a test of patience, then long-distance weekend classes are the exam paper. My elder one has odissi dance class on Sundays, 21 kilometers away. The younger one is also thrilled about the destination as the dance gurukul is a piece of art, a scent of divine and gives a warm goan feeling.

With a snack bag packed, a water bottle filled, and my toddler’s favorite toy in hand, we start the ride. On the way the elder one rehearses her dance steps in the car, her eyes shining with excitement. The younger one grumbles, throws mini tantrums, cries for attention, and finally dozes off on my lap – giving me a few minutes of peace.

It’s not just a car ride. It’s a moving classroom of love and endurance. One child learns discipline through dance, while the other tests patience with restlessness. And me? I learn resilience – again and again.

By the time we reach the class, I’m both tired and proud. Watching my daughter’s tiny feet match rhythm to taala (beats), I feel the exhaustion of 21 kilometers vanish in the serene music.

  • Afternoon Strength: Physical Training and the Cycling Battle

On the way back home, we stop for a session of outdoor physical activity and cycling in nature away from the city. Our day is still far from over. My husband and I believe in keeping the kids physically active by running, stretching, and simple sports.

But the real battle is cycling. My 7-year-old wants to give up. Pedaling feels like a mountain to her, balancing seems impossible, and every small fall feels like the end of the world. She says “Amma, I don’t want to cycle anymore”.

And yet, I insist. Not because I want to force her, but I know the day she finally pedals without falling will be the day she discovers her strength. Her sister, meanwhile, copies her – running with tiny steps, clapping when we cheer, making sad face when she falls, laughing at her own mistakes.

Two children, two worlds. One afraid of falling, another too little to even know what failure means.

I manage to responsibly handle the characters of spectator, referee, cheerleader and a coach at the same time. The sun is warm, the grass is green and the red soil ground making the surroundings fil the air with so much of love. I realise how precious this is – not just training the body, but also training the heart to stay joyful, even when life feels hard.

  • Evening: The Smile Hour

Evening is my favourite time. In our home we call it “Chai time”.

It’s not about gadgets or TV. It’s about board games, storytelling, drawing silly cartoons, sharing jokes, dancing our heart out and doing bhajan that don’t always make sense but always end in laughter and a smile from the core of our heart.

My elder daughter tells me about a new dance step, while my little one scribbles on the wall – her own version of art. I sigh, then laugh, because someday these scribbles will stop, but the memory will remain etched in my heart.

This smile hour is where all the day’s tiredness melts into giggles.

  • Night Finale: India vs. Pakistan
  •                          

Just when I think the day is winding down, the India-Pakistan cricket match begins.

I am a person who can stay hungry for such match. My elder one is trying to understand the match rules and players, meanwhile, younger one doesn’t actually understand cricket, but she claps every time we cheer. Me and my husband discussing the overs, sixes, fours, and wickets.

I am again having lots of roles to perform at the same time here. A cricket fan who doesn’t want to miss out on any ball, a mother who doesn’t want her kids to starve or let them sleep empty stomach. My juggle between making food, refilling water, and sneaking glances at the screen.

The living room turns out to be a  mini stadium. Every six hit by opposite team gave us a mini heart attack, every wicket debated, and every laugh shared.

And as the clock ticks past midnight, I look around at my family. Elder one is dozed of counting on wickets, meanwhile, the younger one wants to lay on me for a good sleep while I am wide awake with sparkling eyes.  Tired me, yes, but also glowing with the fullness of this Sunday.

  • Reflection of a Mother’s  Sunday

To the world, it may look like chaos – cooking multiple menus, managing tantrums, driving 2 kilometers, enduring silly questions, cheering while handling cycling battles, laughing in the evening, and staying up late for cricket.

But to me, it’s a symphony of love. Every demand met, every tear wiped, every mile driven, every giggle shared is a note in the melody of motherhood.

Sunday’s don’t give me rest. But they give me something more valuable – memories that will last a lifetime.

Because one day, my children will grow. Dance classes will end, silly questions will fade, tantrums will disappear, and dosa demands will turn into cafe outings.

But I will always remember these Sundays – the little chaos, the long drives, the tears the smiles, the questions, the failures, and the victories.

And that, I believe is the real win – bigger than any cricket match.

If you are a mother reading this, tired from cooking different meals, answering endless questions, handling tantrums, or trying to balance work, home, and your own dreams – know this: you are not alone.

Our children may not remember every dosa we made, every ride we drove, or every time we sacrificed our rest. But they will remember the feeling of being lived, protected, and heard.

Motherhood is not about perfection. It’s about patience when we are exhausted, laughter in the middle of chaos, and strength when we feel like giving up.

So, the next time your toddler cries over nothing, or your 7-year-olx refuses to cycle, or your Sunday feels like a marathon – remind yourself: this is love in action. Messy, noisy, tiring…but unforgettable.

And one day, when the house is quite, you will look back at these Sundays and smile – because you created not just routines, bur memories that shaped your children’s world.

“Creative activities like singing with your child not only strengthen emotional bonds but also improve overall well-being—a perspective supported by studies on music and motherhood.”https://www.rcm.ac.uk/research/projects/musicandmotherhood