It was 7:30 AM when my daughter approached me, her little voice filled with concern, “What’s wrong, Mommy? You okay?” The reason for her inquiry was my position on the living room floor, sobbing into my fifth cup of coffee—yes, at 7:30 in the morning. While many were just starting their day, I felt like I had already waved the white flag.
“Mommy’s just feeling sad, sweetheart,” I managed to reply.
“Why sad, Mom?” she asked, patting my back with a depth of compassion that I couldn’t summon myself.
“I’m sad because my coffee is all gone,” I told her, though my true thoughts were far darker. “I’m overwhelmed. I can’t handle this motherhood thing any longer. I believe I’m a terrible parent. Everything I do feels wrong. I’m not sure I can keep this up for another day, let alone indefinitely. This is hard. I’m failing.”
Was I being overly dramatic? Certainly. Was I being truthful? Perhaps not. But in that moment, it felt overwhelmingly real. I felt like the worst mother imaginable, with a litany of reasons to support that belief.
I was crying in front of my kids—definitely not a positive experience for their emotional well-being. I had already raised my voice at my son countless times that morning due to his incessant climbing on the dining room table. I wondered how many more times I could repeat “Stop hitting your brother” before succumbing to chaos reminiscent of “Lord of the Flies.”
My children often dined picnic-style in front of Curious George episodes because some days, I simply lacked the energy to battle them at the table. I found myself locking myself in the bathroom for a fleeting moment of peace, wishing fervently I could escape to a more manageable life. My kids didn’t eat enough vegetables, consumed too much junk food, and watched an excess of television. I felt lost when it came to discipline and was at a loss as to how to engage my children throughout the day. The list of shortcomings went on.
That morning, I was convinced I was the worst mother in the world. Yet, as I vacuumed what felt like an entire box of Cheerios that evening, clarity struck.
I’m not a terrible parent; I’m simply normal.
Once I stopped punishing myself with guilt and despair, I recalled stories from friends, blog posts I had read, and books I had perused before my children decided to turn them into art projects. I remembered that:
- Other mothers lose their temper occasionally.
- Other mothers lie awake at night, burdened by guilt.
- Other mothers serve cereal for dinner and call it a win.
- Other mothers have messy homes and chaotic lives.
- Other mothers steal moments of solitude in closets.
- Other mothers often feel overwhelmed with their toddlers.
- Other mothers hope their kids will sleep in past 5 AM.
- Other mothers fear they are failing their children.
If all these women—friends and strangers alike—are facing similar struggles, then it’s not just me. If we’re all navigating the same tumultuous waters, then I can conclude: I’m not a bad parent, I’m just normal.
This realization lifted a weight off my shoulders.
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Summary
This article reflects on the challenges and feelings of inadequacy many parents experience. By sharing personal struggles, the author emphasizes that feeling overwhelmed is a common experience among mothers and that it’s important to recognize that these feelings do not define one’s ability to parent effectively.
Keyphrase: parenting struggles and normalcy
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