This week was one of those times when I doubted my parenting skills. My daughter logged into her virtual classroom with such a tangled mess in her hair that the only silver lining was that her computer camera didn’t capture the full horror of it. Meanwhile, my son had his annual check-up, and the pediatrician revealed he had fallen off his growth curve, followed by a thorough questioning of his diet, pointing out where he indulged in too much processed food and not enough fruits and veggies. I opened my mouth to offer an explanation—maybe even a justification—but decided against it. Ultimately, it was my responsibility to ensure his nutrition was on track.
Later that evening, my son reminded me that we hadn’t worked on the multiplication flashcards I had left on the counter as a reminder. He wasn’t upset about it, but I felt a twinge of disappointment. I hadn’t truly forgotten; I simply ran out of hours in the day.
As I tucked my daughter into bed, she started chatting about her friends from school, whom she hadn’t seen in ages, and then shared her achievements in Fortnite. Inside, I scolded myself. Earlier that day, I had promised to help her find ways to socialize more with her classmates and reduce her gaming time. The day had slipped by, and I hadn’t accomplished what I set out to do.
When I finally settled down for the night, I compiled an all-too-familiar mental checklist of things I’d strive to improve tomorrow. Tomorrow, I would balance work, household management, and single parenting during a pandemic—easy peasy.
However, when tomorrow arrived, I experienced some successes, like getting more vegetables into my son’s diet and encouraging my daughter to FaceTime a friend. Yet, I also faced new challenges—I hadn’t done the laundry, leaving both kids to rummage through drawers for clean socks, and I still forgot about those flashcards.
The reality is that there are numerous significant moments in my day that lead me to believe I’m not doing enough for my kids, that I’m failing them. But it’s the small moments that remind me otherwise.
In the year following my partner’s passing, I felt like I was failing my kids in countless ways. I couldn’t fill the role of two parents when I was struggling to be one. I knew I had let things slip through the cracks. For the first time, I missed an appointment with my son’s speech therapist because it completely slipped my mind. Likewise, my daughter and I found ourselves up late cramming for tests because I hadn’t reminded her to start studying earlier. I was doing my best, and I understood that was enough, but I still wished my best could be more. I worried about how my “best” would affect my kids.
Then, I discovered the truth. On the anniversary of my partner’s death, after an entire year of grappling with grief and only giving “my best,” my son left a note on his father’s tombstone that read simply: “we are happy.”
Now, whenever I reflect on that first year—a whirlwind of heartaches and missteps—his words shine as a beacon: “we are happy.” Amid all the perceived failures that year, that one moment stands out as a brilliant light.
Just this week, another small moment stood out among the larger ones marked by forgotten flashcards and too many processed snacks. During a family trip to a Starbucks drive-through, fueled by my caffeine cravings and a desperate attempt to pry the kids from their screens, we were being goofy in a way only families can be. My daughter laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes and looked at me, saying, “I love this family.”
I realize that in the future, when I think about this challenging pandemic year, that little moment will define our experience, much like her brother’s note defined our first year of navigating grief.
These little moments prove that despite my many perceived and real shortcomings, my kids will be alright, and I’m doing okay—maybe, just maybe, even better than okay sometimes. I’m learning that the small moments reveal deeper truths than all the chaotic days filled with laundry piles and quick dinners combined: I am a good mom, a perfectly imperfect mom, and exactly the kind of mom my kids need.
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In summary, while the road of parenting can be filled with self-doubt and challenges, it is the small moments of joy and connection that truly reflect the success of our efforts as parents.
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