The ping of my phone jolted me from my chaotic thoughts as I navigated the busy streets. After a grueling 10-hour workday, I was deep in the throes of carpool management, activity planning, and the endless demands of parenting. As I drove towards dinner with my in-laws, the weight of the upcoming days loomed large in my mind—holiday prep, concert dates, and various deadlines swirling in a dizzying array.
When I rolled to a stop, curiosity got the best of me, and I glanced at the text that had just arrived. Instantly, I knew I’d messed up. It was a message from my daughter’s Girl Scout leader, inquiring about my daughter’s absence from a pivotal event—the grand finale of a project she’d poured her heart into with her troop. Missing this event meant she would forfeit an award she had anticipated for months.
The event was that very night, and I had completely dropped the ball. It wasn’t because my daughter lacked commitment; it was because her mom had failed to keep it together. As I sat at that stop sign, my mother-in-law noticed my distressed expression, and I couldn’t help but break down. The guilt of letting my daughter down felt suffocating.
How had I allowed such an important occasion to slip through the cracks? I was overwhelmed by the chaos of daily life, and the tears flowed as I parked the car. My father-in-law ushered the kids inside, while my mother-in-law offered me a comforting presence as I let my emotions pour out. She patiently let me have my moment of vulnerability, and when I finally took a breath, she said something that resonated deeply: “You know you aren’t defined by your mistakes, right?”
I accepted her tissue and mulled over her words. As mothers, we work tirelessly to ensure our kids have everything they need. Our days are filled with juggling appointments, errands, and the minutiae of family life. We recall which child prefers peanut butter on their sandwiches and who wants only green grapes in their lunch. We master the art of gift-giving and decipher complicated math problems—all while nursing the emotional wounds of motherhood.
It’s no surprise we occasionally drop the ball. Sure, some might argue we take on too much or that we should delegate more, but the reality is: we feel the weight of these responsibilities deeply. When we misstep, especially in ways that impact our kids, the guilt is palpable. Instead of celebrating the things we manage well, we fixate on the one thing we forgot, feeling like we’ve failed.
I know I’m not perfect, and I won’t be the last mom to make a mistake that affects her kids. But maybe that’s okay; maybe it shows my children that I’m human, not the superhero I pretend to be during the daily grind of carpooling and chaos.
As I sat there contemplating my mishap, another text buzzed my phone. It was the troop leader, offering to wait a few extra minutes if I could rush my daughter to the event. My mother-in-law dashed inside to fetch her, and we sprinted to the venue. When my daughter entered the room, beaming with joy, I realized she wouldn’t remember my blunder. She simply embraced the moment and didn’t hold a grudge about missing dinner with her grandparents.
In that instant, I allowed myself a small reprieve. I am not my mistakes. Mostly.
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Summary:
This piece reflects on the pressures of motherhood and the guilt that comes with making mistakes that impact our children. It highlights the importance of recognizing that we are not defined by our missteps, emphasizing the need for self-compassion and the understanding that our children will forgive us.