I’ve had a lot of thoughts swirling around lately about what it means to be a good mom and what it means to be me. One of those moments came when I found myself not looking forward to an upcoming snow day — a thought that, at first, I buried. I wasn’t dreading it, but I definitely wasn’t excited.
It wasn’t the snow itself that bothered me. Honestly, if it had snowed during the school break, I would have loved it. A snow day would have been perfect. But why did it have to come on the first Monday after a two-week break from school? The timing just felt off. The kids had been home for what felt like forever, and I was mentally preparing myself to get back into the groove of routines. This snow day felt like a wrench in the works.
But here’s the thing: as I continued to hear other moms excitedly talking about the snow day — on Facebook, in conversations with my husband, and among my friends — I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What am I doing wrong?” “Why aren’t I excited like they are?” “Am I a bad mom?”
I noticed a trend. Many moms seemed to relish the thought of their kids being home a little longer. Some even expressed that the kids needed more time off. Why didn’t I feel that way? Why was I not looking forward to having them home, especially when so many others were?
It was easy to spiral into self-doubt, as I’ve often done before. I’ve spent too many moments of my life questioning my worth as a mom. It’s a delicate spot for me because being a good mom is one of my main priorities. But this time, instead of allowing myself to fall down that rabbit hole of judgment, I paused.
I think the shift started slowly, and I realized something important: I could actually sit with the question without immediately jumping to harsh conclusions about myself. That’s new for me. I’ve spent much of my life being extremelyhard on myself, holding myself to standards I would never, ever expect from anyone else — not even close. My husband has pointed this out time and again, and yet, it’s been hard for me to see the difference between being self-critical and being self-aware.
This shift in my thinking became clearer when a friend of mine — who I respect deeply — referred to herself as “lazy” in passing. She was talking about some minor task she hadn’t completed during the busy holiday season, and it struck me. This wasn’t the first time she’d used that word. It was the second. The first time, I let it slide. But after hearing it again, I couldn’t help but speak up. “You’re not lazy,” I told her. “You’re just burned out. There’s a difference.”
She had been working tirelessly — as a mom, a wife, an employee, and a friend. I could see that. But in the moment, she had been internalizing everything and placing blame on herself. She was overwhelmed and exhausted, as so many of us are during the holidays. That’s not laziness — it’s burnout.
It made me reflect on myself. I, too, have been guilty of calling myself lazy when I haven’t been able to finish something. I’d say things like, “Oh, I’m so lazy for not getting that done,” but that’s not the truth. The truth is that I’m juggling a lot. So much, in fact, that it’s impossible for one person to do it all, all the time. And that’s okay. It should be okay.
But then I thought: What am I teaching my daughters when I use that kind of language? If I’m calling myself lazy, even in passing, am I inadvertently teaching them that not completing everything on our to-do lists means we’ve failed? Am I setting the stage for them to be just as hard on themselves as I am on me?
I know my daughters don’t fully grasp all that I do for them — and honestly, at their age, they shouldn’t. But they donotice what I say, and they do internalize what they hear. The language I use when I talk about myself becomes their self-talk. If I call myself lazy, they may eventually start thinking that if they don’t do everything perfectly, they’re lazy too. It’s a dangerous cycle to create.
So, I’ve been trying to be more conscious of my self-talk, both inwardly and outwardly. It’s not easy. Being kinder to myself feels foreign, almost uncomfortable at times, but I know it’s necessary. After all, I want to model self-compassion for my daughters. I want them to grow up believing that it’s okay not to have everything together all the time. I want them to know that being overwhelmed, burnt out, or needing a break doesn’t mean they’re failing. It just means they’re human.
As for the snow day? I’ve come to realize that there’s no “right” way to feel. There’s no universal mom template for how we should react to snow days or any other parenting moment. Each of us is navigating our own version of motherhood — and it’s okay to have different feelings than the next mom.
I’m learning to let go of that comparison, to let go of the guilt, and to embrace the fact that it’s okay to not always feel the same way others do. I’m doing the best I can, and sometimes that means taking a deep breath, letting go of expectations, and acknowledging that motherhood doesn’t always come with a playbook.
So, no. I’m not a bad mom. And neither are you. If you’re feeling burnt out, overwhelmed, or simply not looking forward to the snow day, that’s okay. It doesn’t make you less of a mom. It makes you human. And that’s more than enough.
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