In my earlier days, I held a belief that being a good mom meant never running out of essentials like dishwasher pods, laundry detergent, toilet paper, or diapers. A tidy home that was always ready for guests and homemade snacks made daily were the hallmarks of motherhood in my mind. Tracking supplies and keeping the home organized felt like the ultimate responsibility of a wife and mother. I thought meals should be prepped and served, laundry washed and folded, and that the vacuum should be run every night before sleep. I can only blame my unrealistic expectations on shows like The Brady Bunch and other sitcom moms from the past.
This mindset set me up for frequent failure. My idealized vision bore no resemblance to my true self. It was as if I believed that giving birth would magically transform me into a domestic goddess. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. In fact, becoming a mom made my already challenging life even more difficult because I felt pressured to juggle cleaning and organizing while caring for a newborn. This meant I was often tethered to an 8-pound bundle of joy, making even basic tasks like eating and sleeping more complicated—not to mention keeping track of laundry and cleaning supplies.
You might think I’d realize I needed help, but nope. Instead, I was determined to prove that I could handle it all. Other mothers appeared to be managing just fine, so surely I could too. Even after returning to work and welcoming four more children, I clung to the belief that all household responsibilities were mine. After all, I had birthed them, so I should be able to do everything. I’d like to blame sleep deprivation, but pride was the true culprit behind my thinking.
This delusion led to some entertaining breakdowns. Just ask my baffled partner. I oscillated between the stoic determination to do it all and dramatic meltdowns. During my quest to prove my capabilities, I dismissed my husband’s offers of assistance, convinced only I could manage our home effectively. After all, he’d once shrunk my favorite pair of capris, so how could he be trusted with laundry? I felt the need to do everything myself because, in my mind, I was simply that incredible.
But the tasks never seemed to get done. The flip side of my relentless pursuit of perfection was a series of breakdowns that left me feeling utterly overwhelmed. I needed help but found it impossible to communicate what I wanted without expecting my husband to read my mind. I wanted him to intuitively know how to love me through action, even if it meant going back in time to rectify past mistakes.
Eventually, I recognized that my definition of being a good mom (and wife) had become entangled with being a household manager. Managing the home isn’t one of my natural talents, and I failed to see that it was separate from nurturing my children. I erroneously concluded that if I kept the household running smoothly, I was a good mom. Perhaps it was because many mothers I knew excelled in home management, but I didn’t realize this was merely coincidental. In reality, my children were indifferent to the cleanliness of our home or if their socks matched.
It took years of this exhausting cycle of proving myself and breaking down for me to finally see the light. As my children grew older, I still felt the need to do things for them, even those tasks they could handle themselves. This led to resentment towards not just my husband but my kids too, adding a layer of guilt to my already frazzled state.
In one particularly desperate moment, amid a meltdown, I found myself in the kitchen, sobbing, “Does anyone else have arms? Can’t you see this mess?” It dawned on me—they could see it and should be helping. And just like that, a life-changing revelation emerged from my chaos: If you’re capable of doing something for yourself, you should. This applies to making your bed, cleaning up after meals, and even doing laundry. If you can do it, you should.
I decided to step back from my role as the household manager and teach my family to manage themselves. It turns out that if you take on the responsibility of doing everything, you inadvertently train others to rely on you when they shouldn’t. First, because nobody can do it all—not even a mom. Secondly, as children age, they are more than capable of contributing to the household. By not involving everyone in family responsibilities, I was doing them a disservice.
I believe this change was a huge relief for my husband. For years, he’d been telling me that he was entirely capable of grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, and being a dad. I finally decided to trust him, stop nitpicking, and acknowledge his willingness to help. To my surprise, he does things differently, and that’s okay. He’s taken over the morning routine, and I can now enjoy fresh smoothies and hot breakfasts.
Initially, my children resisted this new approach, insisting they couldn’t possibly perform simple tasks. “Mom is obviously the best at getting ice water,” they would argue, believing they should remain seated. But the new rule stands: “If you can do it for yourself, you should.” Now they handle their own chores like washing dishes, doing laundry, and even getting their own ice water at bedtime. They’re learning to navigate their responsibilities, and it’s a messy yet beautiful process.
I’ve realized I care too much about their future (and my sanity) to let them sit back while I serve as their maid. I worry that they might not want to take on the responsibilities of adulthood if I continue to model a life of entitlement. We all have a role in making our home better, and it’s crucial that everyone contributes. We’re learning together and should constantly ask, “How can I help?” because we’re a team.
Once I set aside my pride, I recognized that teaching my children these skills was a gift. They now experience the joy of accomplishment and the importance of contributing. They might not appreciate these life lessons now, but I do. I see the bright future ahead of them.
As a bonus, I find myself calmer and less prone to panic. They express gratitude when I take on tasks like serving them or helping with chores, recognizing that hard work is involved. They’ve begun to offer assistance in return. They understand that a clean room is not a given, and I’ve learned to differentiate between serving out of love and enabling entitlement.
By stepping away from being the household manager and maid, I’ve freed up time for what I’m truly good at: nurturing my kids’ dreams, engaging in heartfelt conversations, sharing laughs over our favorite shows, and being present with them—sometimes even while sitting on a stool as they wash dishes. These are the essential parts of motherhood, and I can do them much more effectively now that I’ve relinquished my role as the world’s manager.
If you find yourself in a similar struggle, feeling like you’re playing the role of maid instead of mom, or if you simply want to encourage your family to pitch in, I invite you to join me. Fire yourself from the role of household manager and take a seat. Your children will thank you for it—eventually.
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Summary
This article explores the unrealistic expectations many mothers place on themselves regarding household management and parenting. The author shares her journey from believing she needed to handle everything alone to recognizing the importance of teaching her family to contribute. By stepping back and encouraging independence, she finds greater calm and fulfillment in motherhood.
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