In the past, I thought that being a good mom meant never running out of essential supplies like dishwasher pods, laundry detergent, toilet paper, or diapers. My home was expected to always be ready for guests, and I envisioned myself whipping up homemade snacks every day. I believed that managing household chores was solely the responsibility of the mother. Meals needed to be planned and prepared, laundry had to be washed and neatly folded, and vacuuming was a nightly ritual before bed. I partially attribute this unrealistic standard to television shows like The Brady Bunch and the sitcom mothers I grew up watching.
Unfortunately, this perspective led me to feel like a failure in my role as a mom. My expectations had little to do with my true self. It was as if I thought that after giving birth, I would transform into a domestic goddess overnight. In reality, I ignored the fact that even in college, I was the roommate whose pile of dirty dishes drove everyone crazy.
Giving birth didn’t change who I was; instead, it made things even harder. Now, I felt the pressure to manage all the household tasks while simultaneously caring for a tiny, crying human. Keeping her alive required me to spend long hours sitting beneath her, which made it difficult to accomplish basic tasks like eating or sleeping. Keeping track of laundry detergent and dishwasher soap felt nearly impossible.
You might think I would have realized I needed help, right? Nope. Instead, I was determined to prove I could juggle everything. Other moms seemed to manage it all, so why couldn’t I? Even after returning to work and having more children, I still thought all household responsibilities rested on my shoulders. I’d love to blame sleep deprivation for my stubbornness, but I think it was mostly pride.
This relentless pursuit of perfection led to some memorable breakdowns. Just ask my confused partner. I oscillated between trying to prove my capabilities by working tirelessly and collapsing into tears. I often dismissed my partner’s attempts to help because I was convinced that I alone knew the best way to run our home. After all, I was the one who had given birth, right? I had earned the title of “expert.” I worried he would buy the wrong brand of soap, and based on one shrunken pair of dry-clean-only pants, I was sure he was incapable of doing laundry. How could I trust him to cook dinner? I felt the need to handle everything myself because I thought I was somehow exceptional.
But the truth was, I wasn’t. The tasks just never got completed.
My relentless drive for perfection led to meltdowns where I would cry, “Doesn’t anyone help me? Can’t you see the mess?” It dawned on me that my family could see the chaos, and they should be helping me out. Suddenly, a valuable lesson emerged from my emotional turmoil: If you can do it for yourself, you should. Whether it’s making your bed, clearing your spot at the table, or folding laundry, everyone should pitch in.
I decided to step back as the “manager” of our household and teach my kids to take care of themselves. I realized that if I continued to do everything, I was inadvertently training them to rely on me when they shouldn’t. No one can do it all, not even a mom. As they grew older, it became clear that they were perfectly capable of handling their own responsibilities.
This shift was a relief for my partner, who had long insisted he could manage household chores. Instead of criticizing him, I chose to appreciate his assistance, and I discovered he often did things even better than I could. My kids initially resisted the idea of helping out, but adopting the rule of “If you can do it for yourself, you should” became a game changer. They now manage their chores, from dishes to laundry, and learn valuable life skills along the way.
I realized I loved them (and my sanity) too much to let them live in a scenario where I played the maid while they enjoyed their carefree childhoods. I wanted to model a sense of responsibility that would empower them as they grew. We all need to contribute to making our home a better place, and this shift in perspective fostered teamwork within our family.
Once I set aside my pride, I recognized that teaching my kids to help was a gift: the gift of accomplishment and the responsibility of being a contributing member of our household. They might not always be grateful for these lessons, but I am confident they will benefit from them in the future.
As a bonus, I found that I was calmer and less overwhelmed. Now, when I choose to help my kids out, they appreciate it more because they understand the work involved. They have even offered to lend a hand when I need it, realizing that nobody is entitled to a clean room without effort.
Letting go of my role as the household manager freed me to focus on what truly matters: nurturing my children’s hearts, supporting their dreams, and creating lasting memories together. This is the essence of motherhood, and I can do it much better now that I’m no longer trying to do it all.
So, if you find yourself feeling like a maid instead of a mom, or if you’re frustrated with your family’s lack of initiative, consider stepping back. Fire yourself from the role of household manager and see how your family rises to the occasion. They’ll thank you for it someday.
For more insights on the journey of parenting and home management, check out this blog post or explore resources on Kindbody. And if you’re looking for tools to navigate your home insemination journey, visit Make A Mom.
Summary
In this reflection, I share my journey of redefining what it means to be a good mom, realizing that I mistook household management for effective parenting. By relinquishing control and teaching my children to be self-sufficient, I foster a sense of teamwork and responsibility in our home. This shift not only relieved my stress but also strengthened our family bonds, allowing me to focus on what truly matters: nurturing and loving my kids.