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5. A Day in My Life: Empowered, Balancing Work, Motherhood, and Self

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A Day in My Life: Empowered, Balancing Work, Motherhood, and Selfhttps://mysticalmomworld.com/is-my-struggle-real/

A Day in My Life

 

The alarm buzzes at 4.30 a.m., long before the world outside even begins to stir. For me, it’s not just the start of another day – it’s the beginning of a new chapter filled with responsibilities, emotions, challenges, and small joys that make life meaningful.

My mornings begin with a few minutes of quite meditation – a sacred time to  collect my thoughts and strengthen my mind before diving into the chaos ahead. Then comes the inevitable list of household chores: cleaning the house, folding the clothes, and ensuring everything looks somewhat organized before the day takes over.

Soon, I gently wake up my elder kid. It’s time for her morning exercise before school. She’s still half-asleep, but with a bit of encouragement – and with a few mom tricks that only years of experience can teach – she gets moving. As she finishes her routine, I rush to prepare breakfast and pack lunch boxes, making sure everyone gets something warm and healthy before they step out for the day.

By the time my husband and elder daughter leave for work and school, respectively, the house grows momentarily quite. And that’s exactly when my younger daughter wakes up. With her messy hair and sleepy smile, she greets me with a cheerful “Good morning.” and just like that, my heart feels full again. We wish each other a happy day, and a new set of adventures begins.

She is an absolute delight – playful, curious, and full of energy – until it’s time to eat. Like every other Indian mother, I sometimes rely on a bit of “Mumma’s magic” to make mealtime happen. Whether it’s turning food into stories or sneaking in a bite between her joys, feeding her is always an event in itself.

After breakfast, it’s bath time and prayers. Together, we fold our hands before the divine, chanting softly, asking for strength and positivity for the day ahead. Once our morning rituals are done, I pack her little bag – a few snacks, water, and things she might need – and we’re ready to leave for the shop.

However, this particular morning wasn’t as smooth as planned. I had been rearranging cupboards and moving heavy items around for a complete energy shift in the house- something I do once in a while to bring freshness and positivity into our home. In the middle of all this, the toilet flush broke, and the plumber arrived right when I was preparing to leave. He took almost an hour to fix it. By the time he left, I was already late for work, worried about the low petrol level in my scooter, and hoping it wouldn’t run out on the way.

Finally, we reached the shop. The first thing I did was clean the space, light a small lamp, and pray to Lord Ganesha. As if he had been listening, a customer arrived just then – the first of the day. It felt like a gentle sigh of reassurance from the universe that despite the chaos, everything was going to be fine.

By 2 p.m., it was time to return home. My younger one fell asleep during the ride back and continued her nap after reaching home. I quietly began preparing lunch, realizing I had skipped breakfast entirely. Once the food was ready, I sat down for a few peaceful minutes and ate my first meal of the day.

But peace never lasts long in a mother’s world. I soon got up to resume cleaning the house – the same one I had left in disarray that morning. By the time everything started looking decent again, my elder daughter returned from school, and my younger one woke up. We greeted each other with hugs and laughter, filling the room with warmth once more. I served them lunch, listened tp their stories, and helped them settle down before getting back to my own pending work. We even made a bathing soap for the kids.

The truth is, my back has been hurting severely for a week, but slowing down isn’t an option. With no one else to help at home or at the shop, I’ve learned to push through the pain and keep going. That’s the thing about motherhood- it teaches endurance beyond imagination.

Evening soon arrives, and it’s time to light the evening lamp. The soft glow and fragrance of incense bring calmness after the day’s rush. Around this time, my husband returns home from work. We sit together for a short tea break while the kids enjoy their milk. Those few minutes of shared silence, laughter, or random conversation feel like a luxury.

Then, I leave for the shop again, entrusting the kids to their father’s care. He handles the evening routine – assisting our elder daughter with  her online classes, dealing with the younger one’s playful tantrums, and preparing dinner. Sometimes I cook dinner before heading out; other times, he manages it all himself. We both do our best to balance work and parenting, even when exhaustion creeps in.

By the time I return home, it’s usually around 10 or 10.30p.m Most nights, the kids are already fast asleep. I quietly enter the room, kiss their foreheads, and whisper a small prayer of gratitude. Then, I have my dinner- alone but content – knowing that  everyone is safe and cared for.

If my body allows, I spend some time on the laptop – responding to messages, managing tasks, or writing my thoughts. If fatigue wins, I simply close my eyes and surrender to sleep, ready to repeat it all again the next morning.

The Rhythm of Responsibility and Love

 

Some might call it monotonous routine, but for me, it’s a rhythm – a symphony of love, duty, and faith. Every broken flush, skipped breakfast, backache, and sleepless nights adds to the melody of a mother’s life. It’s not easy, but within the chaos, there’s strange kind of peace – a satisfaction that comes from knowing you’re doing your best for your family.

Each day, I wake up with determination, even when my body protests. I push through because my daughters look up to me, my husband needs my presence around, and my dreams still whisper from the background, asking for their turn to shine.

Yes, I get tired. Yes, sometimes tears roll down quietly when no one’s watching. But the next morning, I rise again at 4.30 a.m., light a lamp, whisper a prayer, and step forward with renewed hope. Because that’s what life – and motherhood – truly is: not perfection, but persistence. I feel empowered with all the circumstances, situations, and happenings around me.

https://www.motherhoodcenter.com/balancing-motherhood-and-work

 

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