I’m Not a Terrible Parent

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I’m Not a Terrible Parent

by Jamie Ellis
Updated: Aug. 26, 2019
Originally Published: November 10, 2014

It was 7:30 AM when my daughter approached me with concern, asking, “What’s wrong, Mommy? Are you okay?” The reason for her inquiry was my slumped figure on the living room floor, tears streaming down my face as I clutched my fifth cup of coffee. While many were just beginning their day, I felt like I had already thrown in the towel.

“Mommy’s just feeling sad, sweetheart,” I managed to reply.
“Why sad, Mom?” she continued, patting my back with more compassion than I had the strength to give.
“I’m sad because I’ve run out of coffee,” I told her, though my true thoughts were more severe: “I’m sad because I’m overwhelmed. I feel like I can’t handle this motherhood thing anymore. I’ve made countless mistakes, and I’m convinced I’m a terrible parent. I don’t know if I can keep doing this—today feels impossible. I’m such a failure.”

Overdramatic? Sure.
True? Probably not.

In that moment, however, it felt all too real. I had a growing list of reasons to support my self-criticism. I was crying in front of my kids—surely not a great move for their well-being. I had yelled at my son at least 81 times that morning due to his relentless habit of climbing on the dining room table. I lost count of how many times I pleaded with him to “stop hitting your sister,” feeling like my home was turning into a chaotic battleground.

My kids often had picnic-style meals in front of “Curious George” because some days, I simply lacked the energy for the dinner table struggle. I found myself locking myself in the bathroom for a brief escape, wishing I could magically disappear to a far-off place where life was manageable.

• My kids weren’t getting enough vegetables.
• They consumed too much junk food.
• They watched way too much TV.
• I struggled to discipline them effectively.
• I had no idea how to keep them entertained all day long.

And so the list continued. That morning, I was convinced I was the worst mother in the world.

However, later that evening, while vacuuming what seemed like an entire box of Cheerios, a moment of clarity hit me. I realized that I’m not a terrible parent. I’m just like everyone else.

Once I stopped drowning in my tears of guilt, I remembered the stories I’d read on blogs, the countless tales from fellow parents, and the advice from books (those I hadn’t hidden away from my kids). Here’s what I recalled:

• Other moms yell at their kids sometimes.
• Other moms lie awake at night, consumed by guilt.
• Other moms call it a win when their child has cereal for dinner.
• Other moms live in homes with messy kitchens and bathrooms that need cleaning.
• Other moms sneak into the closet for a moment of peace.
• Other moms feel lost when trying to plan activities for their toddlers.
• Other moms hope their little ones will go back to sleep after waking up at the crack of dawn.
• Other moms believe they are messing it all up.

If all these women—friends and acquaintances—experience such struggles, then I’m not alone. And if we’re all navigating these same challenges, it means…I’m not a bad parent. I’m just normal.

What a relief that was.

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