When I first became a parent, I envisioned myself as the ultimate parenting expert. I imagined dispensing wisdom like a seasoned pro, until reality hit — teaching my kids not to behave like hyperactive raccoons in the grocery store proved to be a far tougher challenge than I anticipated. With children aged 10, 8, 6, and 3, I’ve come to terms with the fact that perfection is a myth.
So, if you’re looking for advice on how to teach toddlers to read or to get your kids to enjoy their veggies, you won’t find it here. However, I can certainly provide a detailed guide on watching your kids chew on a single piece of broccoli for two hours until you finally surrender and allow them to spit it out.
While I may not excel in every aspect of parenting, I love my kids enough to cuddle with them even when they smell like a landfill — and I think that counts for a lot.
I’m not perfect, but I am enough — just like you.
I truly enjoy my kids. There are moments when I can’t help but breathe in their hair and plant kisses on their cheeks. I find myself laughing at their silly jokes and feeling overwhelmingly blessed. In those fleeting seconds, time stands still, and everything feels just right.
Yet, there are also times when I question if I’ll survive the chaos between 4 and 8:30 p.m. — can a person really perish from too much bickering? I believe they can, without a doubt.
I’m decent enough at bedtime. Some nights, we curl up together on the couch, immersed in a good book like The Hardy Boys or Anne of Green Gables. Other times, I rush through a bedtime song like I’m in a race, punctuating it with a quick kiss before dashing out as if it’s a hostage situation (and, honestly, sometimes it feels like one). They inevitably call after me, complaining about old water, itchy backs, and twisted underwear. In those moments, I often find myself sneaking behind the freezer, devouring cookie dough ice cream, pondering whether I’ll outlast them or vice versa.
I’m together enough. We share meals, we laugh, and we love each other. But despite their neon school papers, I still manage to misplace them. My 6-year-old even asked me to wear “real clothes” when I came to her school, and on the way there, she made sure to remind me not to forget my pants.
I’m fun enough, too. Sometimes, I take things too seriously — like cleaning up crumbs or enforcing tooth-brushing. I have moments where I wonder if my kids will only remember me as the grumpy mom. But then there are days filled with laughter, games, hikes, and dance-offs in our pajamas that leave my stomach aching from joy.
I’m good enough at housekeeping, though it’s a mixed bag. At times, I sweep crumbs under the couch and imagine the health department shutting us down for our messy downstairs bathroom. Other times, my home is spotless, with the scent of candles wafting through the air.
I’m also good enough at self-care. Some days, I can’t even recall my last shower, heading to the grocery store with pillow marks still on my face. Other days, I’m dolled up, ready to conquer the world or at least enjoy a ladies’ night.
As a wife, I’m good enough too. Some days, I’m an excellent listener and support for my partner, while other days, my frustration gets the best of me. He often bears the brunt of my snappy comments, especially when he needs encouragement.
When it comes to nutrition, I declare pizza nights with paper plates and indulge in ranch dressing. At other times, I’m the health-conscious mom, forcing my kids to eat spinach and worrying about their sugar intake.
Ultimately, I love my kids, messy and chaotic as they are. I love them unconditionally, and that love is what makes all my efforts enough. It’s what makes your efforts enough too, mama.
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Summary
In the realm of parenting, striving for perfection is unrealistic. This piece reflects on the journey of being a mom who embraces the concept of being “enough” — loving, fun, and present, despite the chaos. It emphasizes that the love we pour into our children is what truly counts, making all our efforts worthwhile.