I’m a terrible parent. Saying I’m just a parent feels unfair to all the amazing moms out there. I’m all about showering kids with love and care, putting their needs above my own. I believe in the sacrifices that come with motherhood. Yet, in my day-to-day life, I often fall short. So, I embrace the title of “bad mom.”
I’m not saying this to be trendy or to fit in. When I write, I own my shortcomings, but when it comes to my kids, I can’t seem to let myself off the hook that easily. I’m a walking contradiction. For instance, I think introducing children to music early on is crucial for their development. Yet, what do I do? I blast hip-hop in the carpool line. You remember Tupac, right? His lyrics might just overshadow Beethoven and the Frozen soundtrack.
I enjoy a drink now and then. Let’s be real; sometimes, I indulge a little too much. I’ve been known to slur my way through bedtime stories, and let’s not even talk about the yelling. Oh, the yelling—for things like toys on the floor or sibling squabbles. Then I turn around and yell at my kids for their own yelling.
Screen time? Guilty as charged. I let the TV babysit my kids while I catch up on social media. Sometimes I sneak away to the bathroom for a quick scroll, announcing, “Mommy is taking a poop!” I’m all about protecting them from skin cancer, yet I forget the sunscreen. And hand sanitizer? Never around when I need it.
Dessert? Oh, they get plenty. Sometimes even two servings a day. And fast food? You bet! I might drop a “f-bomb” here and there in front of my kids, and guess what? They repeat it. I tell them, “Just five more minutes” when they want my attention, but those minutes often turn into an hour or more—oops!
I’ve been through my share of struggles, including an abortion when I was younger. I grew up with an idea of motherhood that felt utterly unattainable. When I first got pregnant, I was terrified. I never wanted kids because I feared they would derail my dreams—career, travel, freedom.
When I finally became a mother, I felt like I was shattered. My two little ones came into my life just 16 months apart, and I felt like I was falling apart. I struggled to bond with them, often feeling overwhelmed and empty. I questioned everything: What does it mean to be a mother? Why don’t I feel the way I thought I should?
Comparing myself to other moms only deepened my guilt. But slowly, I learned that being a “bad” mom—one with flaws and imperfections—could still mean being a great mom. I began to embrace my shortcomings.
I am a mom because I care for my kids. I give hugs, read bedtime stories, and make them eat their veggies. I sign them up for activities, but not too many because, you know, balance is key, right?
I’m a mom because I worry about their education, buy them clothes, and even indulge in another stuffed animal here and there. I teach them about acceptance and love for everyone…except jerks. Life is too short for that! I celebrate cultures and encourage them to explore the world.
I know I could do better some days, but I’d take being a “bad” mom over not being a mom at all.
If you find yourself on a similar journey, you might want to check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination at Healthline. And if you’re considering your options, you can learn more about home insemination kits at Make a Mom. And for more information on self insemination, take a look at our post on Intracervical Insemination.
In sum, I’m a mom who embraces the chaos, celebrates the messiness of motherhood, and learns from every mistake along the way.