I’m a good mom, and I owe it to myself to say it out loud.

Do I have fears, doubts, and worries? Of course I do. Do those fears, doubts, and worries make me a bad mom? Absolutely not. In fact, it makes me a better mom. It makes me a mom that cares about what kind of food goes into their mouths and if they’re learning how to use their manners properly. It makes me a mom who cares about what grade they got on their last spelling test, and if they’re reading for twenty minutes each night. It makes me a mom who cares about their well-being, and if they’re progressing on the growth chart the way they should be.

The world likes to describe motherhood as an arduous task coated in sacrifice. You’re not supposed to praise yourself for keeping these tiny humans alive because that’s what you’re expected to do. You’re not supposed to be proud of yourself for having bathed and fed two tiny mouths by yourself while also running a load of laundry, washing dirty dishes, and taking inventory of basic household necessities like toilet paper. You’re supposed to be a stay at home mom but also go out into the workforce and break glass ceilings. You’re supposed to do all the things and be all the things- and that alone can make you feel like a failure if you’re not on par with it all.

I have fears that stem from my childhood, and I wonder if I’m projecting those uncertainties onto my children. Am I spending enough quality time with them? Am I balancing their needs? Am I filling their buckets? I worry if my own flaws hold me back from being the best mother I can be. Is my constant need for feeling in control driving my children to feel controlled? Some days I’m walking the plank, other days I’m treading water, but most days I have a rainbow of hope that I’m doing this right.

And like any mother, I’ve been prone to self-criticism. I’ve berated myself for allowing too much screen time or allowing my children to eat that bowl of ice cream even though they didn’t touch their dinner. I’ve chastised myself for buying the wrong sunscreen or pulling up to school ten minutes late for the second day in a row. I worry that I’m neglecting them if I’m on the phone at the park. I feel guilt creep in if I yell or curse or cry in front of them. And it’s during these miniature moments when I occasionally believe I’m falling short of some universal imaginary standard of parenthood.

But the truth is, I know I’m a good mom because of the confident and positive children I’m watching them become. They are each unique and proud. They are independent. They are helpful. They aren’t always well-behaved but they’re learning how to deal with big emotions and strong feelings in a healthy way. I encourage an open dialogue with them, and no topic is ever off limits. I have always been a positive influence, and the more I say it out loud, the better I feel about being a good mom.

I’m teaching them concepts like love, racism, religion, and death. I’m teaching them how to write thank-you cards and how to give back to their community. I’m teaching them the importance of friendship and acceptance. I’m teaching them to have compassion for all living things to show honesty in everything. I’m teaching them the importance of exercise and healthy habits. I’m teaching them to set goals and to follow their passions.

A good mom is not a perfect mom.

I’m a good mom, and I owe it to myself to say it out loud.