A couple of weeks ago, I was running on fumes—mentally, emotionally, all of it. The kids were in full chaos mode: one screaming because the toast was too toasty, another crying because their sock felt “funny.” I was counting the hours until bedtime by 10 a.m., and every nerve I had felt frayed.

That’s when a friend of mine—a child therapist—stopped by. She looked around, watched the madness unfold, and then smiled gently before saying, “You’re such a good mom.”

I laughed. Out loud. And then I blurted what I was really thinking:
“I don’t feel like a good mom. The kids are driving me crazy. I’m losing my temper more than I’d like to admit, and most nights I fall asleep wondering where I’m going to find the patience to do it all again tomorrow.”

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t correct me.
Instead, she leaned in and said something I haven’t been able to forget:

“Babies cry—it’s how they communicate. Toddlers scream, kids whine, and teenagers complain.
And moms? Moms say ‘for f#$&’s sake’ under their breath before they respond.
It’s how we all communicate.”

She smiled again and continued:
“But guess what? That’s better than silence. A house full of yelling kids, bickering siblings, and a parent being pulled in every direction? That’s a healthy house.

It’s the silent kids, the scared toddlers, the teenagers who don’t come home… those are the ones I worry about.
And kids don’t drive you crazy. You were already crazy—that’s why you had them.”

Just like that, something in me cracked wide open—but not in a bad way. In a freeing way.

I breathed. For the first time in days, I really breathed.

Because maybe being overwhelmed isn’t a sign that you’re failing—maybe it’s just proof that you’re all in. That you’re human. That you care.

So to every parent quietly muttering under your breath, hiding in the pantry for a minute of peace, wondering if you’re doing enough:

Take a deep breath.
You’re doing a good job. ❤️