Mama Confession: Nobody Warned Me About the “Interrupted” Era

Here’s to my fellow mamas in the thick of raising littles.

The other day, my daughter, who just turned three, said to me, “Mama, don’t disturb me ha? I’m painting.”

I laughed.

At her stern tone. Her cheeky smile. The audacity.

Just hours ago, she was climbing all over me as I tried to type away on my laptop, racing to meet a deadline. Yet despite numerous pleas from me to ‘give mama a few minutes,’ she didn’t oblige. Instead, she claimed her spot on my lap, hogged my keyboard, and decided to nurse right then and there. Deadline? What deadline?

“Don’t disturb me, okay?” she repeated as she messily ran her brush on paper.

I laughed and said “Okay!”

I plopped down on the bed across her little desk and closed my eyes. Approximately two and a half minutes later, she was already tugging at me. “Mama, why are you sleeping? Paint with me.”

Motherhood: The ‘Interrupted’ Era

Like most women, I had a very different view of motherhood before I became a mom. I knew early on that I wanted to have babies and looked forward to holding and raising my own children. I envisioned a life filled with soft moments and tender kisses. Cute baby cries. Even cuter baby coos. Me and my husband basking in all the baby goodness. So demure, so cutesy.

Needless to say, the realities of mama life hit me like a ton of bricks. I was 29 at the time.

Sure, well-meaning folks have warned me about the sleepless nights and the chaotic days. But what they failed to mention was how life with tiny humans would be so bumpy and jerky, filled with so many stops and starts, pauses and breaks — many of them abrupt and unavoidable.

“You’ll never sleep again,” they said. Wrong, I say. I will sleep. It’s just that I will be woken up in 10 minutes, 30 minutes, one hour, or maybe two hours, if I’m lucky.

The demands that came with the mommy title — the never-ending interruptions to daily life, all because the baby needs to be carried, fed, burped, washed, or entertained — I wasn’t prepared for how much these would take over my life.

This was when I first realized that motherhood is actually living life interrupted.

Half-eaten meals, microwaved coffee

Let me be clear: I love being a mama. I love it when they run to me when the rain starts pouring outside, making loud noises against our roof. I love it when my eldest, now 9, tells me about the “cool” things that happened in his favorite anime, even though I have no idea what he’s talking about. I love it when my daughter randomly blurts out, “Mama, I miss you!” when we’re together the whole day. For the past decade, my main identity has been “mama” and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

But it’s not all hearts and unicorns, obviously.

It also means a lot of half-eaten meals, coffee that always needs to be reheated, perpetually broken sleep. It’s never getting a chance to sit still because as soon as you think you’re done with one thing, someone or something needs your attention again. It’s starting a task, leaving that to do another thing, going back to the first thing, only to be sidetracked again. Rinse and repeat.

I remember one afternoon, my son asked me, “Why are you always working?”

I looked at him, shocked. 

I had just opened my laptop that afternoon and was barely 15 minutes in. As a freelancer, I don’t exactly have a 9-to-5, so I work whenever life permits. This is usually when the eldest is in school, the toddler is down for a nap or is with her Ate, or when the whole house is asleep. As a work-at-home mama, my main priority is my kids, and I plan my schedule around their needs. But as you can imagine, carving out time for deep, uninterrupted work can be a challenge.

So to be asked why I was always working when in fact I always feel like I’m not getting enough done — I didn’t know how to respond.

“What!?” I replied, unable to hide my surprise. In my mind, I was also thinking that maybe he’s just trying to stall or escape his afternoon nap.

I ended up closing my laptop and snuggling into bed with him, knowing I’ll likely regret the work backlog later. After a bit of chitchat, my son fell fast asleep. Turns out, he just needed me to be there with him. Not there working in the same room, but there there.

Giving birth to Mama, Interrupted

In 2021, right after I welcomed my second child, I first came up with the idea for my children’s book, Mama, Interrupted. At the time, my firstborn was already 6 and starting to need me less and less — which meant that I was finally getting more time for myself.  But re-entering the newborn stage quickly reminded me of the jolting nature of motherhood; of the crazy-interrupted existence that comes with welcoming and raising littles.

I thought, “I can’t be the only one experiencing this, right?”

So I started writing this little project, initially just wanting to put all my big feelings into words. I’ve always dreamt of coming up with my own children’s book and knew from experience that it’s always best to write about what you know. Well, motherhood is something I know.  

The story itself is just 525 words long, but in true ‘interrupted’ fashion, it took me almost two years to finish it — from inception to getting it illustrated and printed. By the time Mother’s Day rolled around this year, my book was finally ready to be shared. 

Is there such a Mama who can finish her coffee

in one sitting, quietly, no spills, no frenzy?

Because this story is about one who absolutely cannot.

She’ll take a sip, maybe three, while it’s still hot.

—from page 4 of Mama, Interrupted

Tiny moments, big life

“Mama, play with me,” my daughter beckons, her face telling me she’s not accepting a ‘no.’ Since I started writing this piece, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve stopped — because she needs to go potty, my son can’t find his English quiz pointers, dinner needs to be ordered somewhere, the list goes on.

Some days, the interruptions still drive me nuts. But most days, I just go with the (erratic) flow, aided by really deep breaths and silent prayers that alternate between “Lord, help me” and “Oh my God.” It took me a while but I’ve come to realize and accept that this season I’m in right now — this chaotic but beautiful season — it’s my here and now. These tiny moments with my children, they all add up to this big life. The ‘mom-in-the-trenches’ life. Also possibly my ‘peak mama’ life.

But it’s not going to last forever.

The kids will grow up, they’ll learn to go to the toilet on their own, they’ll prefer to hang out with their friends, they’ll stop shouting “Mama!” every three seconds. The interruptions will become fewer and farther in between, and I will no longer need to reheat my coffee.

“I’ve never felt so seen in my life,” shared some of the moms who’ve read my book. It’s a comment that makes my heart melt every time because it makes me feel like I did something right. Then they tell me they want to share it with their fellow moms. Not exactly the kids, but the mamas.

I say yes, please. Because ultimately, my book is a love letter to all struggling, over-stimulated, always-interrupted moms (and dads!) — especially those who feel like they’re alone in this. 

“Mama, it’s your book!” my toddler squeals every time she sees it lying around in the house. I tell her it’s actually hers because it’s literally the copy I gave her and her Kuya. I know what she means, though. It’s mama’s book because it’s mama’s story.

If you end up seeing your story in my pages as well, know that it’s me saying, “I see you, too.”

Mama, Interrupted (P399) is available via direct order through this link: bit.ly/readmama. You may also message the author directly through her Instagram @elainenreyes or her biz account, @thecontentmama.  

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