Is There a Quarter-Life Crisis?: A Stay-at-Home Mom's Struggle for Zen

Several weeks ago, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and wondered, When was the last time I was happy? It had been weeks since I felt like myself. With Christmas a distant memory and spring seeming eons away, I felt stuck in a seasonal and mood-altering rut. On top of the unpleasant weather, my mind was constantly on over-drive, thinking of the long list of household chores and errands I had ahead of me. Add potty-training my three year old, whose recent attitude seemed more fit of a thirteen year old, and you've got yourself my quarter-life crisis.

From the next room, I heard the dog barking and a loud splashing sound-which typically meant my daughter was playing with the dog's water bowl. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I finally opened my eyes, I purposefully walked into the chaos that is my life. I walked past the dog, barking at her empty water bowl, and my daughter, dripping wet and splashing the spilled water all over my wooden floor. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a few ingredients from the pantry, and set about making myself an enormous mug of Hershey's hot chocolate.

One: who doesn't feel better after drinking hot chocolate?

I sat beside my daughter on the couch and turned on the TV, surfed the channels, and finally stopped on the cartoon, Rugrats! My daughter and I sat there for two hours, laughing and watching the cartoon together.

Two and Three: watching my favorite cartoon from childhood and spending two straight hours with my little girl (without my iPhone in my hand or stopping to do chores) brought me perspective and fond childhood memories.

When my husband came home from work, I decided to be spontaneous and get a manicure. Sure, it would probably get destroyed in less than a day while loading and un-loading the dishwasher, but who cared?

Four: be spontaneous.

Driving home from the nail salon, I turned up the music to blaring and rolled my windows down, letting the frigid February air take my breath away. I couldn't help but smile as I shivered, singing along with the radio.

Five: embrace your inner sixteen-year-old.

That night, I stood and once again looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair was windswept, my nails were already chipping, and I had gotten virtually nowhere in the potty-training escapade. But, for the first time weeks, I smiled at my reflection.