When I was younger, I envisioned myself as the quintessential mom who baked cookies. I imagined my kids coming home from school to a warm plate of chocolate chip treats. Perhaps I was influenced by nostalgic reruns of classic TV shows, but that was the standard I set for myself. My home would be spotless, I would always look put together, volunteer at the school, and greet my kids with the delightful aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air. That was my ideal version of motherhood.
Fast forward thirty years, and cookies are a rare occurrence in my house—way too indulgent for everyday life. There are no school pick-ups since my role as a teacher transitioned into homeschooling my children. And as for a tidy home? Haha, I laugh at that thought. Now that we’ve moved past the baby and toddler chaos, I can say I maintain a semblance of order, but “fashionable” is a thing of my past—much like my youthful dreams of being the perfectly patient mother.
I’m not discontent with my choices as a mother, but I’ve become someone quite different from the idealized version I once envisioned. Sometimes, I gaze into the mirror and wonder, “Who is that woman?” Time has certainly left its mark, both physically and in my parenting journey. I thought that as I gained experience, I would become more patient and empathetic. Instead, there are days when I feel like I’m struggling more than ever.
When my first child was born, I was filled with optimism and determination. I read parenting books, absorbed their wisdom, and tried diligently to apply their advice. But thirteen years and three children later, fatigue has set in. I anticipated that parenting would ease up as they grew older, but instead, I’ve found that each stage presents new challenges.
Don’t misunderstand me—I love my children deeply and truly enjoy being a mom. The joys they bring far outweigh the challenges, yet I often find myself exhausted. Is it just me, or is this the nature of parenthood? After more than a decade, can it really be possible that parenting does not wear you down? Sometimes I wonder how many times I can calmly address whining, bickering, and the occasional tantrum before I reach my limit.
I know I’m being too hard on myself and the whole parenting process. This relentless pursuit of perfection is likely my own doing. I have come to recognize this phase as a “winter of discontent,” which will surely be followed by a “spring of inspiration.” Having been on this journey long enough, I can appreciate the cyclical nature of parenting seasons. Still, each winter feels interminable when you’re in the thick of it.
It’s been thirteen years since my eldest was born, and I have another thirteen to go until my youngest turns 18. I feel like I’m halfway up the mountain of motherhood, carrying a backpack filled with ideals that have only grown heavier as the climb gets steeper. Eventually, I had to start discarding those ideals one by one. Farewell to the mom who never yells. So long to the mom who engages in creative play every day. Adios to the mom who never resorts to electronic babysitters. And goodbye to the cookie-baking mom.
I often wonder why this “cookie mom” idea lingers in my mind. Maybe it’s a reminder that ideals can evolve. Perhaps those cookies symbolize comfort and love, which I do provide for my children—just without all the sugar and butter. Maybe it’s a reminder that idealism in motherhood is like the right amount of salt in a cookie recipe: just enough enhances the flavor, but too much ruins the sweetness.
The woman I see in the mirror isn’t the daily cookie baker, but that’s perfectly fine. She creates other meaningful moments. She makes tough decisions and sacrifices for her kids. She prepares nutritious lunches and a delicious chili that they adore. She heals scraped knees and extends apologies when she’s not at her best. She embraces flexibility and cultivates a sense of adventure. She turns life’s challenges into opportunities, bringing laughter to her family and solidarity to other mothers on this journey.
And yes, she still bakes cookies occasionally because she loves seeing her children’s faces light up.
Interesting what a little introspection can reveal. Suddenly, that daunting summit doesn’t seem so far away, my burdens feel lighter, and perhaps spring is on the horizon.