“A Day in My Life: Between Tantrums, Nature, and Screens”

This morning, I woke up the way I usually do: tired. The kind of tired where your eyelids feel like they’re glued shut, and no amount of coffee can convince your body it’s time to start moving. Motherhood doesn’t allow for snooze buttons though. It demands presence the second little voices call out “Mama!” from the other room.

And of course, the day had to begin with a poop blowout — the kind that isn’t just a diaper change but a full-scale hazmat cleanup. While scrubbing, I thought, Is this what they meant by “the joys of parenting”? Some days I swear the laundry pile grows faster than I can fold.

By breakfast, the tantrums had already started. Toddlers have a way of making their opinions known with full-volume screams, even when the issue is as small as the wrong color cup. Feeding them felt like running a marathon — spoon in one hand, napkin in the other, and a constant battle to keep food off the floor (which, of course, I lost).

The Walk That Saved My Sanity

After wrestling them into jackets and shoes, I hesitated at the door. I was exhausted. The idea of dragging two toddlers outside felt overwhelming. But something inside me whispered: Just go. Breathe.

And I’m glad I did. Because as soon as we stepped outside, the world shifted. The fresh air hit my face, the weight in my chest lifted, and suddenly the day didn’t feel so heavy.

Nature does that. It doesn’t care about tantrums or dishes piled in the sink. It offers something simple but powerful: space. Space to breathe, space to think, space to just be.

The kids, too, transformed. Their little eyes lit up as they watched birds hopping along fences, listened to the hum of cars passing by, and pointed excitedly at every dog we passed. The simplest things — leaves fluttering in the breeze, a pigeon taking flight — fascinated them in ways no toy ever could. And I thought, this is how it should be. Children discovering the world, not staring at screens.

The Healing Effect of Nature

Science backs up what I feel every time we’re outdoors: nature heals. Studies show that time outside reduces stress, boosts mood, and helps children focus better. For me, it feels like a reset button. Whatever heaviness I carry indoors — the fatigue, the frustration, the endless chores — it lightens under the open sky.

But what struck me most is how quickly my kids connected with the world outside. They weren’t asking for tablets or cartoons. They weren’t whining out of boredom. They were fully present, their laughter carried by the wind. And that presence is exactly what so many children are missing today.

Technology’s Grip on Childhood

Because here’s the reality: kids today are losing that magic. They’re growing up in a world dominated by smartphones, iPads, computers, TVs, and video games. Many children spend more time staring at screens than running around outside. And while technology has its place, it’s stealing something precious from childhood — curiosity, imagination, connection.

Screens are addictive. They train little brains to crave constant stimulation. Colors flash, sounds ping, and stories move at lightning speed. But when the screen turns off, reality feels slow and boring. A bird hopping in the yard doesn’t compare to a cartoon character bouncing across the screen. A walk in the park feels dull compared to the bright chaos of YouTube videos.

And the long-term effects are concerning. Too much screen time has been linked to shorter attention spans, sleep issues, anxiety, and even delayed social skills. Children don’t learn patience when everything they want is a swipe away. They don’t learn problem-solving when every challenge is solved with a click. They don’t learn to simply be in the world — and that scares me.

The Balance We Need

I don’t hate technology. I know it’s a part of our lives now. It helps with learning, connects us with people, and yes, sometimes it gives me a few minutes of peace when I desperately need it. But I don’t want my kids to lose the wonder of the world outside. I don’t want them to trade real-life adventures for endless scrolling.

I want them to remember the sound of birds, the crunch of leaves, the joy of puddle-jumping. I want them to learn patience from watching ants carry crumbs across the sidewalk. I want them to know that happiness isn’t found in glowing screens, but in glowing sunsets.

The Preciousness of My Children

At the end of the day, when the tantrums have faded, when the dishes are still waiting for me, when the toys are scattered across the floor, I look at my children and feel overwhelmed with love. They are precious. They are innocent. They are the very best of me.

I wish I could be better for them. I wish I had more energy, more patience, more time to give. I wish I could shield them completely from the world’s ugliness — from toxic technology, from pain, from disappointment. But what I can do is be present. I can walk with them, point out the birds, laugh at the silly dogs, and remind them that life is beautiful when we choose to see it.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how messy, how exhausting, or how overwhelming, my children remind me of the truth: love is worth every blowout, every tantrum, every tear.

And while I may not be perfect, I am theirs. And that’s enough.

✨ The world may pull at them with screens and distractions, but I will keep pulling them back to the simple joys — the kind that no technology can ever replace.