A few weeks ago, I was in the middle of the parenting vortex: the hours between 5 p.m. and 8 p.m. where I battle to feed my daughter, myself, and the dogs; clean the house; prepare for the following day; and decompress from a full day of seeing clients. Of course, on this particular week, my partner was also traveling. I calmly acceded to every request my 2.5-year-old daughter bestowed upon me, eventually pouring her a cup of chocolate milk hoping to sit down for a brief respite as she drank it. Instead, my daughter let out a little chuckle as she impulsively poured it on my head. With milk streaming down my face, I urged myself to take a breath, remind myself of the impulsive nature of toddlers, consider the developmental need to test boundaries, and remain regulated. Instead, I screamed, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”
The next morning, the U.S. surgeon general released a statement warning Americans of the mental health crisis for parents. The report discussed parents’ increasing stress, heightened risk for anxiety and depression, concerns about economic instability, loneliness, and cultural pressures that parents face (Roeloffs, 2024). I could still smell the chocolate milk on my hair as I sat with the news and was overcome with a sense of relief and validation.
I have had the unique perspective of serving as an educator and play therapist before having children of my own. With years of education, experience, and research under my belt, I toted the title “child expert.” In my work with children and families, I naively believed that if only parents could just x, or if only parents knew y, then maybe parenting wouldn’t be so hard for them.
Then, in December 2021, with the birth of my daughter, I was violently humbled. Everything I knew about children, development, and my own role as a parent was tested. The first year of my daughter’s life included ER visits, cardiologists, seven hours of crying a day with no known cause, a deep belief that I would never be good enough, and comparison to all of the other moms in my life who looked like they had it all together. Through those grueling months, I didn’t want to hear solutions or another lecture about what I wasn’t trying. Not only did this experience humble me, it made me rethink everything I had ever ignorantly said to parents in my role as a therapist.
Parenting is a moving target. It is personal, and it is arduous. And though it is incredibly rewarding and an exceptional gift, it doesn’t mean that it is easy. Parents today are struggling with decision fatigue, economic pressures, fear for their children’s safety, and a host of individual challenges that no expert can narrowly correct without first empathizing with each unique experience that parent faces. Though there may be simple solutions to common parenting difficulties, these approaches don’t always resolve the underlying anguish of feeling like you are failing at the most personal job you have ever held.
Today, parenting is more public than ever before. With social media at our fingertips, we are consuming perfect family portraits, reminders of all of the things we should be doing for our children, and experts convincing us that we are failing in order to sell us a 10-step guide to self-improvement. Within seconds, we can consume a video with creative ideas for Elf on the Shelf, reminding us that we are behind on planning for the holidays, paired with frightening reminders of the dangers from which we cannot always protect our children. We are bombarded with messages reminding us that we will never be good enough, organized enough, or patient enough with our children while also being reminded that we cannot guarantee their safety. With the recent surgeon general warning, parents collectively breathed a sigh of relief that they aren’t alone in their feelings of overwhelm and that maybe everyone else is struggling too. It isn’t just that we are failing because we cannot keep up, but circumstances outside of our control have led to this collective crisis.
Highlighting the problem is validating, but with the pressures parents are facing today, what parents need more than ever is empathy. My clinical work focuses on working primarily with parents, and I find that the most effective conversations I have with caregivers are ones that humanize the parenting experience and remove the obligation to be perfect. A complete overhaul of discipline or stories about my own (nonexistent) successes with bedtime are invalidating and push parents deeper into the belief that they will never measure up.
Admitting that my daughter threw milk in my face, or that sometimes I have to sleep in her bed because an extra hour of sleep is worth pushing the boundaries allows for vulnerability and takes the shame out of parenting missteps. If parents are continuously bombarded with what they are doing wrong, the parent mental health crisis will only worsen. What parents need is unconditional acceptance that they make mistakes, but they are doing the best they can. There is no perfect parent. There isn’t even a reliable measure to assess parenting ability, so our perspectives are subjective and rooted in a belief that everyone is doing a better job than we are. Judgment and shame in response to stories of missteps only serve to push parents further into silos, and parenting is isolating enough.
Even as I write this post, I consider the ways that discussing my failures so publicly may lead to judgment and impending shame. So please, tell me your kid has thrown chocolate milk at your face too.
