Lately, the small things I crave most are the ones that help me feel like myself outside of motherhood. Joy looks different than I thought it would. Small luxuries I lust after…
Espresso because it takes me back to cafes in Paris and a slower pace of life. Iced Tea from anywhere that I didn’t have to make, extra ice. Reading a book uninterrupted.
Coloring because why the fuck not. There is something so satisfying about choosing colors and playing with techniques for fun…not to create a masterpiece…just to slow down and make a purely aesthetic choice with no consequence.
Experimenting with sour dough. It is the epitome of slowing down. If I had known the hours of waiting it takes for dough to proof, I don’t think I would have picked this for myself. Second loaf down, and I find there is something deeply satisfying about making something that only requires three ingredients, effort, and time. Bonus, even when I mess up it still tastes good.
Listening to songs I haven’t heard in a while that I enjoy. I love blasting songs in the car to hype my girls up in the morning before they get on the bus and raising their spirits in the same way after school. Lizzo is our current go to artist, but I also love playing songs just for me and contemplating how they were composed. Music has always been a huge part of my life and somewhere along the way I forgot that I can enjoy it just for myself.
Preparing healthy food that looks beautiful and feels good in my body. A charcuterie lunch just for me, where I don’t have to include options for the whole family. It’s not selfish. When you are the primary meal maker, you are constantly thinking about how to put options out for everyone that will satisfy them and their nutrition.
These small luxuries feel indulgent precisely because they are not attached to anyone else’s needs.
The funny thing is that when I sit down each morning to write five things I’m grateful for from the day before, these small luxuries rarely make the list.
More often, my gratitude points back to my family:
- Watching my eldest canter over big jumps and climb back on the horse after falling.
- Witnessing my youngest finally nail a duo dance that has challenged her.
- The pride in the girls’ eyes over the decorations they did for a special occasion.
My family brings me joy constantly. It is a privilege to watch my girls grow into little women and know that it is rooted in the work my husband and I have done raising them.
Losing Yourself in Motherhood Happens Quietly
There is a risk though in allowing my only source of joy to be dependent on them. It’s a form of emotional dependency that doesn’t get talked about enough. I don’t always notice when things are going well. But I notice it immediately when they aren’t.
I had an amazing day where I was productive at work, took a sun-filled walk, drank all the water, and ate a beautiful meal. Then by dinner I’m spiraling. The bus driver was mean again, and everyone dropped all of their stuff on the kitchen island that I just cleaned.
Motherhood blurs the line because for years their needs are your needs. Their emotions affect the atmosphere of the whole house. Their safety and happiness become wired into your nervous system.
So when they start becoming more independent, it can feel disorienting in ways that are hard to explain. Not because you don’t want them to grow up, but because somewhere along the way you stopped nurturing the parts of yourself that existed outside of them.
It is easy to lose yourself in motherhood, something I wrote about more deeply in I Don’t Want to Disappear, because so much of it is genuinely wonderful. Their happiness becomes your joy. Not just the big milestones, but the everyday moments too. Belly laughs from the backseat. Inside jokes. Dancing in the kitchen. All of them light my face up with a huge grin.
I don’t think that this type of sacrifice is wrong or unhealthy in small doses. Love requires sacrifice. Parenting absolutely reshapes you.
But there is a difference between motherhood changing you and motherhood consuming your whole being.
I forget that making food healthy and beautiful actually brings me joy.
Somewhere along the way, the thing I loved became another task.
Not because I stopped loving it.
Because I stopped experiencing it as a choice.
Maybe that’s why I crave my small luxuries. Not because they replace the joy of motherhood, but because they belong only to me.
One day my girls will leave to build lives of their own, exactly as they’re supposed to.
The small luxuries don’t just prepare me for who I’ll be later. They help me remain myself now.
The books.
The music.
The coffee.
The hobbies.
The quiet rituals that make me feel like myself.
Those things aren’t selfish.
They’re roots.
Maybe that’s how you love your family deeply without disappearing inside of them.
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