I tied the knot just two months before I stumbled upon Pinterest, right at the height of the barn wedding craze. I distinctly recall the frustration I felt upon realizing there was a simpler method to organize my wedding than the mountains of folders cluttering my browser bookmarks. There were s’mores stations, homemade jam favors, floating paper lantern send-offs, and mason jars—oh, the endless sea of mason jars. It was stunning yet simultaneously made my eye twitch.
As time passed, I pinned countless ideas. My dream home was meticulously crafted, featuring multiple options for slides instead of stairs. I curated enough dinner recipes to ensure I wouldn’t eat the same crockpot dish twice in a single presidential term. And with thoughts of motherhood swirling in my mind, I was captivated by beautifully decorated nurseries that made my heart flutter.
Then, I actually became pregnant. My once-virtual baby pin board was becoming a reality, and in just nine months, I’d have a charming nursery to occupy while I navigated the trials of sleep deprivation and personal hygiene. During the first trimester, the morning sickness kept me glued to the floor beside the toilet, which I cleaned with a Pinterest-approved mix of organic vinegar and eco-friendly Clorox, spritzed from a repurposed vintage perfume bottle. As I envisioned my dream nursery—its theme shifting nine times in my second trimester—I barked orders at my husband during my third trimester about how he should space the chevron stripes on the walls. I tried, unsuccessfully, to crochet adorable stuffed animals that would supposedly be practical for a drooling newborn.
The night before my induction, I sat in that rocking chair, frantically arranging bookshelf displays. I even declined a nice dinner out with my husband to stay home and embroider an organic cotton onesie, ensuring our newborn would be Instagram-ready for my 73 followers. I went to bed worrying about whether I had chosen the right Dr. Seuss quote to hang on the wall.
The next seven months are a blur—parenting is challenging, and I might have blocked out some of it. I don’t recall ever seeing more than a hazy outline of the nursery during that time. However, as my son grew, I gradually returned to normalcy, like wearing a bra or shutting the bathroom door while using it. I resumed pinning to a board labeled “1st Birthday Party.”
At last, my life was starting to come together, and I was determined to throw my baby the best birthday celebration he would hardly even remember. It would have no clear theme—mainly, I just looked at a picture of blurred city lights and let my creativity take over. This DIY momma was going to prepare healthy snacks for a meticulously arranged tablescape, complete with coordinating textiles and hand-lettered cards featuring witty names for everything. I was sure our mothers grabbed last-minute party supplies from the store, but I stayed up until 3 a.m. the night before my son’s party, sewing a birthday crown—because life is different now.
That was the moment I vowed to abandon Pinterest for good. As an adult, I found it hard to muster the energy to floss, yet as a stay-at-home parent, I was expected to pack every lunch into bento boxes and clean my home with fragrant oils? No, thank you.
Instead, I would tell my kid to watch something on Netflix while I Febrezed my yoga pants before wearing them again, rather than crafting a sensory box filled with dried pasta and beans. Who has time for that? I would order pizza for dinner, knowing it would arrive in 20 minutes, rather than wasting 90 minutes on a meal. I would rely on store-bought detergents instead of concocting my own from blue Dawn and “natural” water because I preferred cleanliness over risks.
Upon meeting other moms when my son started preschool, I made it clear that when it was my turn for snacks, I would simply toss a cheese stick and some grapes into the mix—no cutting required. If I caught sight of a gluten-free fruit kabob shaped like Olaf, I would be ready to throw down; I refuse to let my child expect homemade Goldfish crackers when I can hardly find a tiny fish cookie cutter.
For my son’s next birthday, I opted for a party at an indoor play venue, reminiscent of a Chuck E. Cheese but without the arcade chaos. I went to bed at a reasonable hour and brought only box-mix cupcakes topped with colorful frosting. The kids devoured pizza, drank juice, and ran around like little whirlwinds, and we left without cleaning anything up. My son had a fantastic time, and I had leftover pizza. The only thing I bragged about was, “I bought the decorations at Target!”
And for all of this, I am a much happier mother. Embracing a laid-back approach has made everything easier. My goal isn’t to avoid effort entirely but to reserve special moments for when they truly count. There’s no need to indulge in every trend or expectation; it only leads to exhaustion. So, why bother? You can’t get entangled in the Mommy Wars if you choose to step back and enjoy life from the sidelines.
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Summary:
In this candid reflection, a mother recounts her journey from obsessively planning the perfect wedding and nursery to embracing a more relaxed approach to parenting. By letting go of the pressures of DIY expectations and Pinterest perfection, she finds joy in simplicity and prioritizes her well-being. This shift allows her to focus on meaningful moments with her child while shedding the weight of comparison and competition among other mothers.