Today, my five-year-old daughter howled the entire ride home because I refused to buy her a pottery wheel. Patience? What’s that? I’m sure I’ll run out of it again tomorrow.
There are moments when I tidy up her messes because I can’t face the likelihood of a meltdown or muster the calm needed to guide her through cleaning up herself. I allow her to watch shows filled with whiny characters that lack any real substance. After hours of her relentless chatter, I sometimes tune her out, leaving me to wonder what I’ve agreed to with a careless “yeah, sure.”
Just yesterday, she declared her disdain for quesadillas, one of the few foods she actually likes. So, I suggested chicken nuggets. Whatever.
I catch myself complaining to her in the same tone that drives me up the wall when I hear it from her. I’m failing to set a good example.
I’ve read all the articles, and I’m well aware of the so-called “rules” for being a stellar mother. Most of those perfectly polished guidelines seem to come from people who have never actually dealt with children. At best, they’re optimistic ideals.
I sometimes give in to her tantrums because my mind is so overwhelmed, and it feels like the only way to quiet the chaos. I worry I’m not teaching her enough about empathy, fairness, racism, compassion, and feminism, and all those other important lessons.
I exclaimed, “It’s time to go! Put your shoes on right now!” Kids need boundaries and structure, but those things don’t always mesh well together—likely because we, as mothers, are also navigating our own struggles.
I found myself glued to my phone, seeking a brief escape. If I just left her at the park, people would probably call Child Protective Services.
Right now, I’m consumed by my distractions—failing to volunteer at school, not reading enough to her, and so much more.
Inside my head, there’s a version of me curled up with my head between my knees, trying to block out the noise. Meanwhile, I can picture my kids tapping my shoulder, repeating, “Mommy, look at this. Mom. Mommy. Mom.” Because, of course, that’s how it goes.
But I do know this: at the end of the day, she asks for cuddles. She shares her dessert with me, simply because she “likes to do nice things for people.” She reminisces about the fun activities I actually managed to do, not to highlight how much better I could be, but to remind me that I’m enough. She mimics both my worst and my best qualities.
So maybe there’s hope. Perhaps it’s not all bad. There’s always tomorrow.
To the mom who feels like she’s completely messing up, I wish I could tell you that you’re doing just fine. But maybe you’re not. Who am I to say? What I can offer is solidarity and a glass of wine. Maybe that’ll have to be enough.
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Summary
Parenting can be a chaotic journey filled with moments of frustration and self-doubt. This reflective piece highlights the everyday challenges of motherhood, from dealing with tantrums to the struggle for patience. Despite the ups and downs, there’s a sense of hope and connection that emerges through cuddles and shared moments.
Keyphrase: parenting struggles
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