I'm Lowering My Standards as a Stay-at-Home Mom—And I Refuse to Feel Guilty About It

I’m not a perfect mother, far from it, so I’m not even trying anymore. Here’s how I manage “mom guilt.”

Source: Kinga Cichewicz for Unsplash

A little past 2 a.m., my 3.5-year-old appears at my bedside, hair tousled, with little awareness of personal space between our two faces. I help him up as he crawls into the little opening between his father and me, nestling into our sheets. I feel his breath relax, settling into a slow, steady, sleepy rhythm, and mine soon joins him. I release pent-up anxiety from the previous day and I start to find more ease in the impending hours before us.

In case you were wondering, we were the parents who said we’d never let our children sleep in bed with us. We all have hills we’re willing to die on, and sleeping solo was ours. 

Never say never. 

I long for those nights when my husband and I could depend on 11-12 hours of pure quiet, spending the time on personal projects and solid shuteye. But with three children, 5 years old and younger, those nights are no longer a reality.

We have three pretty decent sleepers, all things considered. But rarely a night goes by when at least one child isn’t up, asking for help in the bathroom, teething, scared of a shadow, or in need of extra snuggles. And so, we now find ourselves welcoming our middle child into our bed, begging slumber to come our way in any way possible. Instead of endless hours of continuous sleep, we now aim for the bare minimum: any sleep at all, plain and simple.

Motherhood is not a role filled with much ease, no groundbreaking news there. But yet, as mothers, we often strive (and are encouraged and expected) to do it all, and to do so perfectly. The wife, the caregiver, the chef, the chauffeur, the housekeeper, the friend, the tutor, the employee, and more. 

I’m so tired.

Leaning Into Ease & Feeling Less Guilty

And so these days, I’m saying “no” more. I’m not perfect, far from it, so I’m not even trying anymore. Instead, I’m embracing any opportunity to let go, any way to take the task at hand and make it a bit easier, and in many cases, doing so makes it a whole lot more enjoyable too.

For example…

I cook chicken nuggets more nights than I care to admit, enjoying laughter and lots of ketchup instead of negotiations over broccoli.

I let my kiddos pick their clothes out every day, and if that means my middle child is in pajamas as we run our errands, well, let it be in the name of “personal style exploration.”

I allow more screen time if it means I can wash dishes and thus have a clean kitchen ready to prep the next meal in. I also allow more screen time even if it doesn’t mean I will complete a household chore, but instead, if it allows me to rest and snuggle with my boys on the couch for a few extra minutes; those moments refresh my soul better than any cup of coffee.

And I allow my little guy to enter and exit our bed whenever he needs to, because a battle in the middle of the night is not worth it at this stage of the game. 

Remember Moms, It’s Only for a Season 

I don’t plan on serving endless television and frozen dinners forever; these are the current battles I’m willing to bend on now, and like all things in motherhood, they will shift and evolve, just as the various seasons of parenting do as well. 

I’m not ashamed to admit that these easier ways of doing things are my version of self-care-meets-survival skills during this season with multiple young children under our roof. With them in action, I’m a happier mama, and happier mamas make happier kids. 

I’m not ashamed to admit that these easier ways of doing things are my version of self care-meets-survival skills during this season with multiple young children under our roof.

But this is all just common sense, am I right? If so, why does the act of lowering one's standards, by simply doing less than expected, usually seem so difficult?

There’s an essential part to this whole equation, one so vital that if you don’t include it, this approach just won’t work: Feel free to take the easy road, but don’t let guilt join you for the ride. 

I’m quite familiar with mom guilt, as we all are, in its various forms and iterations; it’s nothing new. And I don’t sit here today, proclaiming to have the inside scoop on how to beat it. All I know is that I’m actively trying, and that I will continue to fight it every day. When my child crawls into bed and that voice says “You’re going to regret this,” I shut it down as fast as I wrap my arms around his little body. 

I’ve learned–and continue to learn–beautiful lessons as I travel through motherhood. And while the internet will often state that mothers can be incredibly petty and critical of one another, my experience has proven otherwise. 

There’s an essential part to this whole equation, one so vital that if you don’t include it, this approach just won’t work: Feel free to take the easy road, but don’t let guilt join you for the ride. 

Motherhood has taught me to never say never (swallowing my pride on that right now), to forgive easily, to support endlessly and respectfully, and to leave all judgment at the door, for I truly believe that, at the end of the day, we are all just trying our best.

But the true test may be if I can extend those same lessons to myself. We’re often harder on ourselves than anyone else, harder than we’d ever be on our friends. I’m striving to give myself the same grace that I lay upon my girlfriends and my children, as I parent day in and day out, as I choose easier roads whenever possible, so that my kiddos and I can make it to bedtime (and beyond) with some sense of accomplishment and contentment.

My goal is no longer to be my children’s martyr, it’s to simply be their mother, one who is overflowing with love and joy, one who is happy and healthy, mentally as much as physically. I want to enjoy the ride as much as possible, so I’ll be taking the easy pass whenever needed from here on out. 

Read More:

How I’m Finding Peace in the Chaos of Motherhood

Liz Greene is a writer living in New England with her husband and their three beautiful little boys. Her days are filled with dinosaurs and dance parties, messes and utter mayhem. Her nights are filled desperately trying to rest and recover before doing it all again the next day… and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Editor’s note: A version of this story first appeared in 2022.