When I embarked on my parenting adventure, I felt this overwhelming urge to be the epitome of perfection. My child needed to be impeccably clean, dressed to impress, and unendingly cheerful in public spaces—because heaven forbid anyone think I was a bad parent.
I vividly recall dining out with my little one, my sole focus being to keep him entertained and quiet. The moment he let out a peep, I felt like I’d failed in my role as a mother.
A few hours post-lunch, if my kid had dried food on his face when his grandmother popped by, I could practically feel the judgment radiating off her. “You had a whole hour to clean that up, and it’s still there? What on earth have you been doing?” She never uttered those words, of course. They rarely do.
You know that feeling you get when you read between the lines? Judgments work the same way. It’s an unspoken conversation conveyed through furtive glances and the way someone hurriedly scrubs the two dishes in your sink instead of saying what they really think.
No one has ever flat-out told me, “You are a terrible mother.” But the electric tension in the room can be deafening.
For the first few years of motherhood, I was consumed by laundry, scrubbing faces, and maintaining a spotless home. I even spent precious moments researching “how to keep my kid calm on a flight” and “how to teach baby sign language.” The irony? I didn’t really care about either of those things; I just felt compelled to do them due to the looming specter of judgment.
Then, one day, I had an epiphany. I realized I hadn’t carved out even a single hour in the past week to read a book, watch a show, or enjoy a walk—all because I was too busy chasing the “perfect parent” ideal.
The most shocking part of this realization? I never truly believed I was a bad mother. Not a single sideways glance from strangers, nor a comment from a relative, had managed to convince me I was doing anything wrong. I knew deep down that I was a loving mom who dedicated herself to her kids, and I recognized that only I had the power to let those comments affect me.
Now, I simply don’t care about my child’s face or clothes being spotless at all times. They’re just going to keep eating, and most of it will end up on their clothes or in their hair anyway.
I’ve also stopped worrying about my baby crying during a flight. He’s a human being just like anyone else, and your loud chatter annoys me just as much as my baby’s cries likely bother you. So, if you’re bothered, you can turn away, but I might just give you a bright smile and a wave—because that’s my new happy place.
My home doesn’t need to shine like a magazine spread either. I’ve become the kind of host who welcomes friends and family while cheerfully pointing out the dust bunnies lurking around. “Oh, that’s Dusty, my new roommate. I couldn’t bear to kick him out, so we’re just waiting to see if he starts a family!” Humor has a way of diffusing tension, and funny enough, when people see they can’t rattle me, they stop trying to change me and start accepting me as I am.
If you haven’t reached this enlightening moment yet, don’t worry! It will come. And when it does, you’ll realize you’re not alone in letting go of what others think about your parenting. It’s liberating! It may feel challenging at first, but just fake it until you make it.
Soon enough, you’ll be playfully ushering your mother-in-law into your home with a wink: “Oh, hey there! Could you please handle those dishes in the sink? And the little one has food on his face—mind helping with that too? Thanks a million!” (Cue the mischievous grin.)
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In summary, embracing the notion of not caring about others’ judgments has transformed my parenting experience from stressful to joyful. By letting go of societal expectations, I’ve found a newfound freedom that allows me to be the mother I truly want to be.