In her column, Tracy shares experiences and lessons learnt as she navigates life and grows with her two boys. To share your views email Tracy on tracy-lynn.ruiters@inl.co.za In her column, Tracy shares experiences and lessons learnt as she navigates life and grows with her two boys. To share your views email Tracy on tracy-lynn.ruiters@inl.co.za
Image: File
You know that feeling when you're juggling 10 things at once, and no matter how hard you try, it feels like you're falling apart? Yeah, that was me this past weekend.
Being a mom is a lot of things—loving, joyful, exhausting—but sometimes, it’s also downright frustrating and not all that SONshine and roses.
I know this topic will also get a lot of flack, but at the same time I know mommies do not speak about the mini breakdowns they experience.
Like the days when you’re on autopilot, doing all the tasks you're "obligated" to do, as if it’s part of the job description. And then, there are days when your kids completely throw you off course, and you find yourself on the edge, screaming like a madwoman.
I woke up early on Saturday, just like any other weekend. The laundry was piling up, and there was always something to clean.
So, I got to work—sweeping, mopping, hanging up the washing, putting things away.
The kids were still asleep, so I had a moment of peace, and I thought, “Today will be different.” I had big plans, or at least I thought I did.
The plan was simple: get everyone dressed and out the door for our family reunion.
And then….sound the alarm…the kids are up.
I needed to get them fed, afterwards dad put them in the bath, and finally I had a quick breather.
After bath time, I got them dressed, and ready- dad prepped me a cuppa coffee and headed out to wash the car.
All this while ticking off my to-do list.
Of course, as any mom knows, the moment you think something will go smoothly, life has a way of throwing a curveball.
That’s when my son decided to “not use his ears,” as I like to say. I asked him, for the umpteenth time, to put on his shoes.
Sometimes being a boy mom is not all SONshine and roses.
Image: Mommy selfie
Simple, right? Apparently not. He was too busy “playing” in his room, taking off his clothes because it's warm and deciding that the shoes could wait.
I asked again. And again. And again. But instead of the cooperation I needed, he just looked at me like I was speaking a different language.
At that point, something inside me snapped. “Boy, you better make sure those shoes are on your feet by the time I turn around, or else…” I screamed. The anger just spilled out, and I couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t my proudest moment. And as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt that all-too-familiar knot of mom guilt creeping in.
What happened next wasn’t a surprise, but it felt like a punch to the gut.
I found myself sitting down with my son, apologising for losing my temper. “I’m sorry, big boy,” I said, my voice thick with regret. "I shouldn’t have yelled.” And there we were, sitting on the floor, me apologising for losing it, and him giving me that wide-eyed look like he was processing something big.
The "gentle parenting" thing, the method I’ve read about, the approach where you get down to their level, talk softly, and allow them to express themselves—yeah, I’ve tried it.
I really have. I get on his level, I ask him what’s wrong, I speak gently to him, and I let him tell me what happened. But let’s be honest: it doesn’t always work. Not for us, at least.
My son is incredibly observant. He knows right from wrong. He can tell me when he’s done something naughty. The other day, he walked up to me and said, “Mommy, today I was naughty. I made big holes in ma’s garden searching for treasure, but then I decided it was time to be good and helped her water the plants.” His words, not mine.
It’s a glimpse into his mind, and while I love how he’s learning to articulate himself, I can’t help but laugh and think, “This little guy knows exactly what he’s doing.”
So, no, gentle parenting doesn’t always work for us. And that's okay. Because what I’ve learned through all of this is that being a mom doesn’t mean perfection.
It means showing up, even when you’ve lost it, even when you’ve yelled or said things you didn’t mean. It means apologizing, teaching your kids that it’s okay to make mistakes and that love isn’t just about calm, collected moments. It’s about the real stuff, the messiness, the frustrations—and the hugs that follow.
Some days, I feel like I’m drowning in expectations. I’m supposed to be the perfect mom, balancing it all: laundry, the kids, being their emotional support, and getting them dressed without an emotional breakdown. But guess what? I’m not perfect. And neither are they.
But we’re trying. And that’s what matters.
tracy-lynn.ruiters@inl.co.za
Weekend Argus