Two months before I even knew Pinterest existed, I tied the knot. It was during the peak of barn weddings, a trend I vividly remember, mainly because of the sheer frustration I felt when I realized there was a more efficient way to organize my wedding than the endless digital folders cluttering my bookmarks. Suddenly, there were s’mores bars, homemade jam favors, and enough mason jars to fill a small ocean. It was gorgeous, yet it made my eye twitch with anxiety.
As time passed, I found myself pinning countless ideas. I envisioned my dream home, complete with slides instead of stairs, and collected dinner recipes to ensure I wouldn’t repeat the same slow-cooked meal within a presidential term. With thoughts of motherhood looming, I was captivated by beautifully designed nurseries that made my heart race.
Then, I actually became pregnant. My fantasy nursery board transformed into a tangible reality, and in just nine months, I’d have a nursery to spend sleepless nights in. During my first trimester, while battling relentless morning sickness, I was stuck on the floor next to my toilet, which I’d cleaned with a Pinterest-endorsed concoction of all-natural vinegar and Clorox. The nursery theme I had carefully curated shifted about nine times throughout my pregnancy. By the time I hit my third trimester, I was barking orders at my husband about the perfect spacing for the chevron stripes he was painting on the walls. My attempts at crocheting adorable stuffed animals were futile as I realized I was just too exhausted.
The night before my induction, I sat in my rocking chair, obsessively tweaking bookshelf arrangements. I even sacrificed a lovely dinner out with my husband to embroider a custom onesie, ensuring our baby would look Instagram-ready for my 73 followers. I went to bed questioning the Dr. Seuss quote I’d hung on the wall. Did I choose wisely?
The next seven months became a blur—parenthood is tough, and some moments are best forgotten. However, as my son grew and I gradually returned to normal life, I revisited Pinterest with a new board titled “1st Birthday Party.” I was determined to throw my baby the best birthday bash he wouldn’t even remember. The theme? A non-themed extravaganza inspired by a picture of blurry city lights.
I envisioned healthy snacks, a perfectly curated tablescape, and pun-filled name tags for everything. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure our mothers just grabbed some noisemakers and candy on the way to our birthday parties. But there I was, up until 3 a.m. sewing a birthday crown because it’s a different world now.
That moment led me to vow to never Pinterest again. As a fully grown adult who can barely muster the energy to floss, I realized I didn’t need to craft elaborate lunches or clean my house with essential oils. Instead, I would tell my kid to watch Netflix while I sprayed Febreze on my yoga pants before wearing them again. A shoebox filled with dried pasta and beans as a sensory box? No thanks. I’ll order pizza because even if it takes 30 minutes, at least my pizza will arrive in 20.
When it was my turn to bring in snacks for my son’s preschool, I boldly declared I’d be tossing a cheese stick and some grapes into the mix—no cutting, let them learn to chew! If I saw one more gluten-free fruit kabob crafted to look like Olaf, I’d lose it.
For my son’s next birthday, we hosted it at an indoor play center, reminiscent of Chuck E. Cheese but without the chaos. I went to bed early the night before, and all I brought were box-mix cupcakes adorned with bright frosting. The kids devoured pizza and juice, running wild like it was a mini frat party. We didn’t clean up—my kid had a blast, and I had leftover pizza. The only bragging I did was excitedly announcing to every adult, “I bought the decorations at Target!”
And you know what? This newfound indifference has made me a happier mom. Lowering the bar means I can easily clear it while wearing my stretchy pants. My point isn’t that you shouldn’t make an effort for your kids; rather, don’t go overboard every single day. Otherwise, it loses its magic, and exhaustion takes over. So, just let it go. You can’t get entangled in the Mommy Wars if you’re off sipping drinks with the cool kids.
For those considering the journey to motherhood, resources like Resolve offer valuable insights into family-building options. And if you’re looking for guidance on home insemination, check out Make a Mom—they’re an authority on the subject.
Summary
Embracing a laid-back approach to motherhood has made life infinitely more enjoyable. Instead of getting lost in DIY projects and Pinterest perfection, I focus on simplifying my life and creating fun memories without the pressure of competition. After all, parenting doesn’t have to be an exhausting race; sometimes, it’s best to just kick back and enjoy the ride.
Keyphrase
DIY Mommy Madness
Tags
[“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]