It was a bright and early 7:30 AM when my daughter, Lily, approached me and asked, “What’s wrong, Mommy? You okay?” The reason for her concern? I was sprawled out on the living room floor, sobbing into what was likely my fifth cup of coffee. By 7:30 AM, many folks were just starting their day, while I felt like I’d already thrown in the towel.
“Mommy’s just feeling sad, sweet pea,” I replied.
“Why sad, Mom?” she asked, patting my back with an affection that I couldn’t quite muster at that moment.
“I’m sad because my coffee is all gone,” I told her, while my inner voice was screaming, “I’m sad because I’m done. I can’t handle this motherhood gig anymore. I feel like the worst parent in the world. Nothing I do seems right, and I don’t know how I’ll survive another day—let alone the rest of my life. This is awful. I’m awful.”
Over the top? Absolutely. True? Probably not.
In that moment, however, it felt all too real. I had plenty of reasons to believe I was a terrible mom. I was crying uncontrollably in front of my kids—definitely not great for their mental well-being. I had already yelled at my son, Max, roughly 81 times that morning because he seemed to think climbing onto the dining room table was a fun sport.
I was at a loss, unsure of how many more times I could say, “Stop hitting your brother” before giving up completely and letting my house devolve into a scene straight out of Lord of the Flies.
Most meals were served picnic-style in front of a Curious George episode simply because some days, the struggle to get my kids to eat at the table felt insurmountable. I often locked myself in the bathroom for five minutes of solitude, secretly wishing to be transported back to a time when life was less chaotic.
The list of my perceived failings was endless: my kids didn’t eat enough veggies, they indulged in too many snacks, watched too much TV, and I had no clue how to discipline them effectively. I also had no idea how to fill the hours with engaging activities.
That morning, I truly believed I was the worst mother on the planet. But later that evening, while vacuuming up what seemed like an entire box of Cheerios, a wave of clarity washed over me.
I’m not a bad parent. I’m just normal.
Once I stopped wallowing in self-pity, I began recalling blog posts I had read, stories from friends, and books I had enjoyed before my children decided to make confetti out of them. I remembered that:
- Other moms lose their tempers sometimes.
- Other moms lie awake at night, burdened by guilt.
- Other moms serve cereal for dinner and call it a win.
- Other moms have messy homes and sticky floors.
- Other moms sneak into closets for a moment of peace.
- Other moms struggle to entertain their toddlers.
- Other moms pray their kids will nap just a little longer.
If all these incredible women—friends and strangers alike—are facing similar challenges, then surely, I’m not alone in this. And if we’re all navigating the same storm, then guess what?
I’m just a regular mom.
What a relief that was to realize!
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Summary
The journey of motherhood can be overwhelming, filled with moments of doubt and guilt. However, it’s essential to recognize that these feelings are common among parents. Embracing the fact that you’re not alone and that your experiences are shared by others can provide much-needed relief. Remember, you’re doing just fine, and being “normal” is perfectly okay.