Additional Coverage:
- My husband had hobbies. My kids had activities. Somehow, I only had laundry. (businessinsider.com)
At 19, I became a mother and devoted much of my adulthood to my family. It wasn’t until I turned 35 that I challenged myself to try 35 new activities-from hiking and baking to embroidery and even papermaking. Through this journey, I’ve realized that hobbies don’t need to be practical or profitable to bring value to life.
One afternoon, I found myself on the hot concrete of our back porch, painstakingly scooping watery pulp into a frame to make paper. The results looked more like wet oatmeal than anything resembling paper, and when I accidentally spilled the bucket’s contents onto the grass, I thought, “I am never doing this again.”
But the paper wasn’t the real point. What mattered was reconnecting with the joy of learning and trying something new.
Becoming a mom at 19 meant that my identity became intertwined with motherhood early on. While I adored my role, I became so focused on the needs of my family-school pickups, laundry, snacks-that I slowly moved myself to the bottom of the priority list.
My husband and kids led busy lives filled with sports, volunteering, and social events, while I was left with household chores. It wasn’t that anyone took my identity away; I simply gave myself last billing.
Earlier this year, a birthday trip opened my eyes. I went hiking and was surprised by how much I enjoyed it-not just the views, but the feeling of being capable and present in a way that didn’t involve caretaking. That experience sparked the question: what else might I enjoy if I gave myself permission to explore?
Since then, I’ve tried everything from planting a vegetable garden and baking bread to sewing and starting a book club. Some projects brought pride, others frustration, and some just plain mess, like that soggy papermaking day.
My favorite so far has been embroidery, despite its steep learning curve with machines and tangled threads. It reminded me why people buy finished goods-but I loved creating something with my own hands.
As a mom, I’m accustomed to measuring my time by productivity and usefulness. Spending an afternoon making something purely for joy felt almost illicit.
Yet, that’s exactly why it’s important. Taking time for myself doesn’t lessen my devotion to my family; it reminds me-and my children-that I am a whole person.
They deserve to see me try, fail, laugh, and make room for happiness beyond responsibility.
I don’t regret becoming a mother young or centering my life on my family. They are the best part of me. But I’m learning that loving them fully also means showing up as myself, with all my interests and imperfections intact.
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- My husband had hobbies. My kids had activities. Somehow, I only had laundry. (businessinsider.com)