(Or how folding tiny socks can actually bring you closer to inner peace)
There’s a certain quiet magic in the way a toddler’s sock can disappear into the vortex of the washing machine, never to be seen again.
It’s not exactly namaste, but if you squint hard enough between the laundry baskets and half-sipped chai, you’ll see it:
Motherhood is full of moments made for mindfulness….
We’ve just been too busy to notice.
The Myth of the Zen Corner
When you think of mindfulness, you probably imagine someone cross-legged in linen, surrounded by Himalayan salt lamps and silence.
I, on the other hand, practice mindfulness while watching my (now) 10-month-old chew on a remote, while my toddler performs an interpretive dance to the Peppa pig intro song.
One ear is tuned to her, the other is picking up the faint sizzle of milk boiling over. Again.
And yet—there it is.
A moment.
A breath.
A tiny pause where the chaos doesn’t stop, but I stop resisting it.
Because mindfulness isn’t about escaping real life.
It’s about showing up fully for it—spills, squawks, and all.
The Mindful Mundane: Yes, It’s a Thing
🧺 1. Folding Laundry as a Meditation (No, Seriously)
I used to loathe laundry.
Until I started turning it into a grounding ritual.
Matching socks? Focus exercise.
Folding baby clothes? A moment to marvel at how small my son still is, and how fast he won’t be.
I don’t always feel calm while doing it, but I do feel present—and sometimes that’s better.
Mindful practice: Breathe in, fold. Breathe out, stack. Repeat.
(Ignore the temptation to start doom-scrolling while folding.)
🤱 2. Nursing: A Tether to Now
There are nights when nursing feels like a sweet, sleepy hug.
And other nights when it feels like I’m the last open stall at a crowded buffet.
Still, I’ve started using those moments—especially the 3 a.m. ones—to check in with myself instead of checking my phone.
A slow scan of baby’s fingers curled around mine, the rise and fall of his belly, the rhythm of his breath.
It’s all here. It’s all now.
Mindful practice: Place your hand on your heart. Breathe with your baby.
No multitasking. Just being.
📺 3. Cocomelon on Loop: A Masterclass in Letting Go
Let’s address the watermelon-colored elephant in the room: kid shows that loop like they’re sponsored by a glitchy algorithm.
They’re not meditative. They’re repetitive.
But here’s a trick I’ve learned: while JJ sings about bath time for the 34th time, I use the predictability as my cue to take a few conscious breaths.
No guilt.
No “I should be doing something productive.”
Just sit. Sip. Breathe.
Mindful practice:
Count five things you can see.
Four you can touch.
Three you can hear.
Two you can smell.
One you can taste (coffee counts, even if it’s cold).
A Gentle Reminder: Mindfulness ≠ Perfection
You don’t need to be calm all the time.
You don’t need to light incense or chant mantras (unless you want to).
Mindfulness is not a moral high ground or a fancy club.
It’s a soft returning—to yourself, your breath, your child’s laugh, your body’s cues.
To what is, rather than what should be.
And here’s the truth no one told me in those early days:
The Mundane is Motherhood’s Heartbeat.
Not the milestones, but the in-betweens.
The packing of lunch boxes.
The brushing of tiny teeth.
The repeated songs.
The crumbs.
The cuddles.
The chaos.
The quiet.
These are not things to “get through”—these are the things that make it real.
And they are sacred in their smallness.
From My Floor to Yours
The other day, I sat on the floor beside a pile of unfolded laundry while my toddler “cooked” air in a toy kadai.
The baby was trying to eat a sticker.
I could’ve rushed.
I could’ve scrolled.
Instead, I just sat. Breathed. Watched. Felt.
And for a second, I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Coming Up Next Monday:
“Screens, Screams & Sanity” – because digital peace in a house with kids is the real enlightenment.
Until then, may your spoons be clean, your socks be matched, and your chai be hot (even if just once).
With love and laundry,
Mama Juju
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