I Know I Can’t Be a Perfect Mom. I Aim for Mediocrity.

“What a great mom.”

I smile and accept the compliment, delivered in the grocery store by a woman who’s watched me patiently let my 10-year-old use the self-service checkout.

But deep down, I know my parenting is mediocre at best.

People accuse me of being a good mom quite frequently — and I can see why. I have a brood of five happy children, all well fed and cared for, and in no doubt, they are loved. At a passing glance, I probably look like I’m crushing it.

But as every parent knows, there are 24 hours in a day, and not all of them are Instagrammable.

I wanted to be a perfect mother

It took me three heartbreaking years and two rounds of IVF to finally conceive so when I 2009 I finally found myself the family way I resolved to treasure every moment; to dedicate myself to my new role: to be a perfect mother.

Four further children and 15 years down the line, I look back at this innocent, pre-parenthood version of myself fondly. Was I ever so young and naïve?

While my brood has grown over time, my expectations of myself have lowered dramatically. I no longer aspire to be good. Sometimes, I aim for mediocre at best. Other times, I count it a success if we get to the end of the day and we’re all still breathing.

The responsibilities and requirements of parenthood are overwhelming, and trying to nail all the things required of me to be a “good mom” is like playing perfectionist whack-a-mole — exhausting and destined to eventually fail.

Of course, deciding you’re going to be a Good Mom usually happens in the “before” time — when you’re pregnant and full of ideals but have no idea of the reality. Or maybe it’s a goal you set yourself when caring for a newborn, based on coping with diapers, feeding, and sleepless nights.

I had a list of things I’d never do

When they’re looking at you with their wide eyes and gummy grins, it’s impossible to imagine how it might feel a few years down the line when they push away your carefully crafted dinner with disgust. Or how much it hurts when they start to reject you.

And it’s definitely harder to be the positive, ever loving mommy you thought you’d be the first time your teen tells you to fuck off.

I can’t be the only mom who compiled a list of things they’d never do while they were gestating their first. “I’ll never swear in front of her,” or “I’ll treasure every moment.”

As my kids have grown, I’ve watched every good intention vanish from the list.

I’d forgotten something important: moms are also still humans. A host of good intentions does not negate the effects of PMS, money worries, or sleepless nights.

And that kids, however much we love them, can sometimes be a pain in the ass.

I’ve lowered my expectations

Parenting is a lifelong contract you sign without any real knowledge of what it means. You start off full of energy and hope, but give it a decade or so, and you’ll probably be asking the questions: Am I any good at this? Or, can somebody remind me why I wanted kids?

But wait. It’s not all bad.

Since I lowered the bar on my parenting expectations, I’ve actually become a better mom. I’m still mediocre, but maybe a C+ rather than a C-.

A definite no is better than a resentful yes. A portion of peas consumed is better than an abandoned pile of broccoli. Sometimes it’s OK to skip the odd teeth clean or eat a cookie after hours.

Allowing myself the space to fail, pick myself up, and try again has lowered my stress levels. Setting more boundaries for my personal space has helped my children start seeing me as a human as well as a mom.

Raising kids is wonderful, stressful, hilarious, annoying — a blessing and a curse rolled into one. There is no way to be perfect at this stuff.

But you know what? That’s OK.