Mothers are often hard on themselves and feel like they're not good enough. Here's what to do when you feel like an inadequate parent. Dropping the ball and picking it back up.
Obviously, I know there’s no such thing as a perfect mom
In my home, socks are unmatched. The laundry is dirty. Cheese sandwiches can be dinner. There days that are spent indoors even though the sun begs us to come outside.
I talk about my ongoing recovery as a perfectionist. I write articles about how it’s okay to swear in front of our kids and why it’s okay if we aren’t always present with our kids. I’ve shared stories about how I’ve broken down, yelled at my kids, didn’t bathe them for days, let them have ample screen time, rewarded them with food even though I am prone to emotional eating.
I post countless social media posts about how we need to stop striving to be supermoms. I’m the one who tells other moms that it’ll all work out somehow, that loving them unconditionally and supporting them with the best of our abilities is what matters. I surround myself with positive vibes. I follow, read and consume fellow moms bloggers who believe the same thing.
That idea that I’m not hard on myself was what I lived and breathed. Then came the day where it all came crumbling down.
Almost dropping the ball doesn’t mean I dropped the ball.
The other day, I was doing my usual working mom routine, watching my 1-year-old son while I jump back and forth from the laptop to the floor trying to write as much as possible while he self-plays.
My phone pings and it’s a text from my husband. He writes,
“Shirley says we need to register our daughter for Kindergarten before Christmas. Did we?”
My mind is racing. My heart begins to pound while I check what day it was. It’s December 15th. His next text,
“She received the calendar that I sent her. She says hi BTW and hopefully, we can schedule a playdate soon.”
I quickly open up a browser on my phone with one hand while feeding my son with the other. I check the school’s site and there in plain, bold letters state,
“Registration for Kindergarten is from October 9 (9:00 am) to December 24 (4:00 pm)”
Another text from the husband,
“I’ll try and see if I can start the registration process.”
Then another with the link to the registration site. I respond immediately,
“Stop! No, I will register her. It’s my responsibility.”
I scramble to load the site on my phone. It takes forever. I flop down in front of my laptop, desperately opening up a new browser. I skim through the instructions. Then before I know it, my son is crying. He’s trying to escape from his highchair.
I re-read the instructions. Mid-way through a sentence, he whines. His whining turns into a full tantrum. I’m helplessly caught between dealing with him and dealing with this ‘urgent’ matter. I lose my temper and yell at him, telling him to “Shut up!”.
Guilt settles in. I pick him up and console him. He quiets down a bit.
I was able to read the full instructions for how to enroll in Kindergarten. It’s overwhelming, all the official records that I needed to gather, the forms that my husband and I needed to complete, the signatures, scheduling a date to actually register, dropping off documents etc.
For some reason, I thought I could just fill out an online form and that was it. But obviously, it doesn’t work that way; it’s not like registering your kid for a drop-in parent and tot finger painting class.
My logical brain starts to run through the scenario. It tells me,
“You still have 9 days. You have plenty of time. Don’t panic. Calm down. It’s a near-miss. You didn’t drop the ball. Count your blessings. It’s not the end of the world.”
Then why did it feel like I dropped it?
But my heart sinks and my stomach is doing knots. I bite my nails anxiously. I felt like an inadequate and incompetent mother who had completely dropped the ball. I call my husband.
He picks up and I start my verbal diarrhea, venting between exasperated breaths. He jumps into problem-solving mode, trying to fix my issue,
“I’m about 30 minutes away, then I have a showing in the afternoon but I can come home now before heading back out. We can take turns watching him while we register her together.”
I interrupt him,
“No, I don’t need you to do anything right now. I have it all figured out. I need you to listen and emotionally validate me right now.”
As I continued to talk to him, I delved deeper and deeper into why I felt like such a failure and judged myself so harshly. The layers of my insecurities revealed a truth:
As much as I’ve tried to embrace being an imperfect mom, I’m not immune to that inner voice of doubt, the one that begins as a whisper and ends as an ear-piercing scream. With each vulnerable truth, I have vowed to make a change in the way I view myself.
Be mindful of when you are comparing yourself to others
I was comparing myself to Shirley which led me feeling inadequate. I wasn’t keeping myself updated on the school’s registration deadline. I didn’t check the site. I didn’t know and not knowing made me feel insecure in my abilities as a mother. I dropped the ball compared to her.
Growing up, my parents compared my sisters and me like we were apples and oranges. I’ve been conditioned to compare. As much as I try to scrub myself of that past, it’s ingrained in my inner dialogue. Although I know this is a destructive behaviour of mine, sometimes I am blind to it. So it’s about taking the moment to recognize what I was doing and catching myself before I spiral down Jones’ Lane.
Replace your “shoulds” with “wants”
I put this expectation on myself that I should have known when registration started. Saying “should” statements highlight what I lack instead of what I possess, leading to unattainable expectations and disappointment.
Saying “want” makes the commitment desirable but not mandatory, keeping expectations realistic. It helps lower the bar to “good enough”.
Appreciate and practise gratitude for what you’ve done already
There is a lot of good in my life and I do a lot of good. During times when I feel like I haven’t done enough as a mother, I stop and think about what I have done thus far.
From pregnancy, breastfeeding, potty training, storytime, bathtime, walks to the playground, countless nighttime routines to all those hugs and kisses I’ve been able to give to this day, it’s about appreciating the journey of motherhood. I try to remind myself of those times when it was tough but I managed to get through it.
Expunge the working mom guilt with acceptance and purpose
I was completely blindsided by this. I didn’t see it coming. I asked myself,
“Why was I so absentminded? I thought I was on top of it. How could I have let this happen?”
Then I started to blame myself for working too much, focusing all my attention on my writing career and losing track of my duties as a mother. Those feelings of working mom guilt ripped through my chest and my heart sank.
Rather than letting guilt get the best of me, I needed to accept a reality that exists for working parents. Sacrifices, trade-offs, missing the beat, and compromises are inevitable but worth it when I have a clearly defined purpose for doing so. I reminded myself that having a rewarding career invigorates me, keeps me grounded and fulfilled, allowing me to be a better mother than if I didn’t.
Share the parenting responsibility and ask for help (and let them help) because you’re not alone
When I told my husband that it was my responsibility, it was as though I was my daughter’s sole caretaker. It was only on me and I owned it all; yes, I am her mother but it doesn’t mean that when things fall through the crack, I am the only person accountable. Her father (my husband) is a perfectly capable parent who can take over when I’m overwhelmed.
Parenting is hard and it takes a village to raise a child. Sharing that duty isn’t a sign of weakness, incompetence or inadequacy. It means I’m self-aware to know my limits, brave enough to let go of control and strong enough to ask for help.
Talk about your struggles, mistakes, near misses, hardship
Shame was the first emotion I felt when I realized I had dropped the ball. I was embarrassed that I forgot something this important. I felt like an idiot and I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to tell my husband that I had it under control and that everything will be fine because I am on top of it. But I’m glad I didn’t.
Talking about my feelings of inadequacy and sharing my vulnerabilities with him made it less embarrassing. Once I was able to put words to those emotions and vocalize the struggles, they lost their grip on me, empowering me to reshift my focus on a resolution instead of dwelling in self-doubt.
The next step was to write it down. Finishing this article off is incredibly freeing; it’s allowed me to be authentic, keeping it real instead of pretending I have it all together.
I’m certain there will be many more balls dropped, missed deadlines, near-misses, forgotten pick-ups and late drop-offs. However, as long as the good days outweigh the bad, that’s what my kids will remember. I’m an imperfect mom. Sometimes my eyes are on the ball and sometimes, I have my blinders on while I lock the bathroom door, enjoying my coffee in peace.
So Readers, what do you do when you feel like an inadequate parent?
