Parenting
It was 7:30 in the morning when my daughter approached me, asking, “What’s wrong, Mommy? You okay?” The reason for her concern was that I was crumpled on the living room floor, sobbing over my fifth cup of coffee. At 7:30 AM. While most people were just starting their day, I felt like I had already given up.
“Mommy’s just feeling sad, sweetheart,” I managed to reply.
“Why are you sad, Mom?” she inquired, patting my back with a tenderness I couldn’t summon at that moment.
“I’m sad because my coffee is all gone,” was my answer.
What I was truly feeling was, “I’m overwhelmed. I can’t handle motherhood anymore. I am, was, and will always be a terrible parent. I can’t seem to do anything right. Every choice I make seems wrong. I don’t think I can endure another day—much less the rest of my life. This is unbearable. I am the worst.”
Overly dramatic? Sure.
True? Probably not.
But in that instant, it felt undeniably real. I felt like the worst mom, and I had a mental checklist of reasons to justify that belief.
- I was crying in front of my kids. That surely can’t be good for their well-being.
- I had already yelled at my son about 81 times that morning for his relentless urge to climb onto the dining room table.
- I was at a loss for how many more times I could say, “Stop hitting your sister,” before surrendering to chaos.
- My kids often ate their meals picnic-style in front of an episode of Curious George, as there were days when I couldn’t handle the battle of getting them to eat and behave at the table.
- I would lock myself in the bathroom for five minutes just to breathe, pretending I was alone, hoping against hope that I would magically be taken away to a place where life wasn’t so chaotic.
- My children didn’t eat enough vegetables.
- They consumed far too many snacks.
- They watched an excessive amount of television.
- I struggled to discipline either of them effectively.
- I had no idea how to keep them entertained throughout the day.
And the list went on and on.
That morning, I was utterly convinced I was the world’s worst mother.
Later that night, while vacuuming up what seemed like an entire box of Cheerios, a moment of clarity hit me.
I’m not a terrible parent. I’m just like everyone else.
Once I stopped drowning in tears, fears, and guilt, I recalled the countless blog posts I had read, stories from friends, and books I had managed to keep intact (before my kids enthusiastically tore out the pages). I remembered that:
- Other moms sometimes yell at their kids.
- Other moms lie awake at night, plagued by guilt.
- Other moms serve cereal for dinner and consider it a success.
- Other moms live in homes with messy bathrooms and sticky kitchen floors.
- Other moms take refuge in closets just to find a moment’s peace.
- Other moms struggle to think of fun activities for their toddlers.
- Other moms pray their kids will go back to sleep when they wake up at 5 AM.
- Other moms worry they’re messing up their children.
If all these women—friends and strangers alike—are facing similar challenges, that means I’m not alone. And if we’re all navigating the same struggles, then…
I’m not a bad mom.
I’m just a normal mom.
And that realization was a relief.
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Summary:
In moments of overwhelming despair, a mother reflects on her perceived inadequacies in parenting. Despite the chaos and self-doubt, she realizes that her struggles are shared by many other mothers, leading her to embrace the fact that she is not a bad mom, but simply a normal one facing the everyday challenges of motherhood.