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!”

 

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
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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.

• A Note to Fellow Mothers

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