I once thought I could be the ultimate parenting expert, the Dr. Phil of mom life. However, reality hit me hard when I realized that teaching my children to behave in public is akin to herding cats. With kids aged 10, 8, 6, and 3, the idea of achieving perfection is laughable.
You won’t find tips from me on how to get toddlers to read or on overcoming the vegetable gag reflex. But if you need a step-by-step guide on how to endure watching your child nibble on a single carrot for hours, I’m your mom.
I may not be perfect, but I love my kids enough to snuggle with them, even when they smell a bit funky. And honestly, that’s a pretty big deal.
I may not be flawless, but I’m enough — just like you.
I cherish my kids immensely. There are moments when I can’t help but inhale their scent and shower them with kisses. Their laughter brings me joy, and I often find myself in awe of how lucky I am. In those fleeting moments, time stands still, and everything seems perfect.
Yet, there are also times when I question if I can survive the chaos from 4 PM to 8:30 PM, wondering if prolonged exposure to sibling squabbles could actually be fatal. Trust me, it feels like it sometimes.
I’m capable enough at bedtime.
Some nights, we curl up on the couch for storytime, diving into adventures with the Hardy Boys or exploring the world of Anne of Green Gables. Other nights, I rush through a bedtime song at lightning speed, punctuating it with a quick kiss before bolting from the room like I’m escaping a hostage situation. Naturally, my kids call out for more water, scratchy backs, and tangled underwear as I sneak away to the freezer, indulging in cookie dough ice cream, contemplating who will give in first — me or them.
I make an effort to keep our meals a family affair.
We share love and laughter over our dinner table. However, I’m also the parent who loses every school paper, despite their neon color, and my 6-year-old daughter recently asked me if I could wear “real clothes” when attending her school event. On the way there, she even wanted to know if I remembered my pants.
I’m doing okay enough in life.
Sometimes, I take things way too seriously — like crumbs on the floor or the importance of brushing teeth. I have moments where I wonder if my kids will only remember my grumpy lectures. But then there are times when we laugh so hard that my stomach hurts. We enjoy game nights, go hiking, and dance around the living room in our pajamas.
I’m fun enough.
My housekeeping skills are a mixed bag. Some days, I shove crumbs under the couch and daydream about the health department condemning my house for its state. Other days, I actually vacuum and play soothing coffeehouse tunes while lighting a candle.
I’m good enough at keeping my home tidy.
Self-care? I’m working on it. Some days, I can’t recall the last time I showered, heading to the grocery store with pillow imprints on my face and sweatpants that should probably be retired. Other days, I make the effort to look put together, and nothing — not even a pack of wild hyenas — can keep me from enjoying a much-needed ladies’ night.
I’m good enough at taking care of myself.
As a partner, I strive to be supportive and encouraging. We share laughter and dreams, and he’s truly my favorite person. But I also have my moments of frustration, where I unleash snappy remarks or eye rolls when he needs encouragement. He loves it, of course.
I’m a good enough spouse.
When it comes to nutrition, I’m doing my best. Some nights, I declare it pizza night, complete with paper plates and my obsession with ranch dressing. Other times, I’m all about the organic carrots and spinach, fretting over their sugar intake.
I love my children fiercely. I adore their messy, fragrant, and wonderfully ridiculous selves. My love for them is what makes everything else I do feel sufficient.
And it makes all that you do enough as well, fellow moms. We love them enough.
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Summary
Being a parent doesn’t require perfection; it requires love and the willingness to embrace the chaos. From bedtime routines to meal planning, it’s okay to not have it all figured out. What matters most is the love we pour into our children, making us all “enough” parents.