- Nothing prepares a parent for the moment when your young child has a tantrum in a public place.
- Instead of feeling embarrassed, I now choose to see difficult moments with a fresh perspective.
- Motherhood is hard enough. Reframing tough moments helps me ease the parenting load.
They don't warn you about this part in the parenting books — the part where your toddler lays face-down in the middle of the grocery store aisle, screaming because you won't let them eat a family-sized bag of Cheetos for dinner.
People walk by, some sympathetic, others silently judging. And you? You're standing there, exhausted, wearing the same sweatshirt you slept in, trying to remember if you even brushed your teeth that morning.
Motherhood is relentless. The job never ends. There's no clocking out, no PTO, and definitely no sick days. It's 24/7, with very few moments of silence and even fewer of solitude. You spend years moving through your day half-asleep, putting everyone else's needs before your own, trying to balance meals, milestones, meltdowns, and mental health.
In those moments, like the grocery store incident, it can be easy to spiral. It's easy to feel like you're failing, like you're drowning in laundry and Cheerios and noise. I know, because I've lived in that spiral more than once. And yet, something shifted for me recently. I stopped trying to escape the chaos and started looking for the silver lining in it. That changed everything for me.
I'm reframing hard moments
Now, instead of letting a public tantrum ruin my day, I chose to see it differently. My daughter wasn't being difficult, she was asserting herself, expressing her wants and testing boundaries. Sure, her timing was terrible, but maybe that strong will is a glimpse of the bold, confident woman she'll one day become. Maybe I'm not raising a drama queen, maybe I'm raising a future CEO of a Fortune 500 company.
It wasn't just the tantrums, though. Some days, it felt like the laundry was multiplying just to mess with me, and even the fabric softener couldn't soften the blow. But one day, as I sorted another load, I stopped and looked at the tiny socks and stained onesies and grass-streaked jeans. That laundry mountain? It meant my kids had plenty of clothes. It meant they'd spent the day outside playing. It meant I had a family to care for, and that's something I never want to take for granted.
I'm not in denial, I'm taking charge
My new mentality isn't about toxic positivity. It's not about ignoring the hard stuff or pretending everything is fine when it's not. Motherhood is hard. It's lonely at times. It stretches you in every direction and demands pieces of you that you didn't know you had to give. But what I've learned is this: How you see those moments can change how you feel in them.
Instead of drowning in the mess, I started shifting my perspective. I found humor in the absurdity. I found gratitude in the mundane. I started treating each challenge like a reminder of what I have, rather than what I'm lacking. It didn't make the work disappear, but it made it feel lighter.
I still have hard days. I get overwhelmed, forget appointments, and lose my patience. But now, when I find myself teetering on the edge of burnout, I look for the silver lining. I remind myself that the noise means life, the mess means memories. And those tantrums mean growth — for both of us.
Motherhood may be the hardest job in the world, but it's also the one that's taught me the most about resilience, presence, and grace. And when I remember to shift my lens, even just a little, I can see it for what it really is. It's not a never-ending to-do list, but a chance to witness something extraordinary unfold right in front of me.
