The Permission Slip I Needed to Give Myself as a Mom

I was sitting in my car after dropping the kids at school, feeling like I'd already failed the day before 9 AM. I'd yelled about forgotten homework, served Pop-Tarts for breakfast, and sent my daughter to school in yesterday's clothes because laundry felt impossible. That's when I realized I needed to write myself a permission slip—not for a field trip, but for being an imperfect human doing her best at an impossible job.

Permission to Be Human

I gave myself permission to have bad days, to make mistakes, to lose my patience sometimes, and to not have all the answers. I released myself from the impossible standard of perfect motherhood and embraced the messy reality of being a human trying to raise other humans with love, intention, and a lot of trial and error.

Permission to Prioritize Differently

I allowed myself to choose connection over cleanliness, presence over productivity, and sanity over schedules when necessary. Some days that meant letting the dishes sit while we read together; other days it meant ordering pizza instead of cooking a "proper" meal. These choices weren't failures—they were conscious decisions about what mattered most in each moment.

Permission to Ask for Help

I granted myself permission to need support, to admit when I was struggling, and to accept help when offered. This meant letting my neighbor pick up my kids from school, asking my partner to handle bedtime when I was overwhelmed, and finally hiring a babysitter for a few hours each week to maintain my sanity.

Permission to Change and Grow

I gave myself permission to evolve as a parent, to try new approaches when old ones stopped working, and to admit when I'd been wrong about something. Parenting isn't a fixed skill set—it's an ongoing practice that requires flexibility, learning, and adaptation as both parents and children grow and change.

Permission to Enjoy Motherhood

Perhaps most importantly, I gave myself permission to actually enjoy parenting instead of just enduring it. This meant releasing guilt about taking breaks, celebrating small victories, laughing at the chaos instead of always fighting it, and remembering that this season of intensive mothering is temporary and precious.

The permission slip I wrote myself transformed my experience of motherhood from a constant performance review to a learning journey filled with grace. We don't need to earn our children's love through perfect parenting—we already have it simply by showing up with love and intention, even when we're imperfect.

Give yourself permission to be enough in "Unexpected Gifts of Parenting"—where imperfection becomes the gateway to deeper connection.