As I observe the parenting landscape, I often imagine other mothers effortlessly preparing three-course, nutritionist-approved meals for their children multiple times a day. Meanwhile, I find myself resorting to microwaved scrambled eggs more often than I care to admit.
I picture these moms calmly engaging in a soothing thirty-minute dialogue with their little ones during diaper changes. My reality, however, involves a frantic plea to my toddler not to smear mess on my face as I rush to get us both ready for a Mommy and Me class—once again, running late.
I envision other mothers eliminating screens from their homes the moment they discover they’re expecting. In contrast, I scramble to access the Netflix Kids app, desperately hoping for a brief window to clean up the remnants of my culinary endeavors from the carpet—and my hair.
These idealized mothers seem to masterfully juggle laundry, bathing, feeding, and cleaning—all while maintaining a joyful atmosphere in just one day. I, on the other hand, spread these tasks out over a week (with the exception of laughter, which is plentiful in our home).
It’s common to imagine mothers curating stimulating art projects for their kids daily. My version of creativity often involves arranging spaghetti and microwaved eggs into abstract shapes during dinner, which I consider an artistic endeavor.
I envision these mothers crafting thoughtful replies to numerous emails in a single hour, shutting down their devices for the day. Meanwhile, I find myself reaching for my phone, laptop, or tablet countless times daily, attempting to respond to the 16 emails languishing in my inbox.
Other mothers seem to effortlessly contribute humorous and heartfelt messages in their online groups. I’m grateful if I can muster a quick, “Me too!” or “That sounds tough!” when I can find the time.
I imagine these moms planning adorable holiday card photos in June, pre-ordering them by September, and sending them out with a witty year-in-review letter by November 29. Meanwhile, I hastily post a ‘Happy Holidays’ photo of my child on Facebook on January 3, hoping it reaches the right relatives.
As I envision other mothers writing the next great American novel or blog during their child’s lengthy naps, I struggle to type even one coherent sentence while my child simultaneously kicks my typing hand and bites my shoulder. (I started this two weeks ago.)
I keep thinking about how these mothers would understand and excuse the lazy tendencies I sometimes exhibit. Instead, I share a laugh with my child, reminding myself that it’s perfectly okay to not have it all together.
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In summary, while it can be easy to feel inadequate in comparison to other mothers, it’s important to recognize that every parent has their own challenges and approaches. Celebrating the little victories and finding humor in the chaos can make the journey enjoyable.