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5 things I’d do Over Again as a Mom – I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but this far along, what my children seem to remember most is the love. Here are five things I did that I think got us here.

When you are a new mom (and that means “new” at every stage), everything seems to matter. And it seems to matter a lot. In fact, the mattering seems to start even before you have the child who will make you a mom in the first place. It matters what doctor or midwife you choose. Then it matters what detergent you buy to prewash your baby clothes. Then it matters where you give birth and how you give birth and what baby-wearing device you have and, eventually, if you should send your child to preschool and, if you should, which preschool, and on it goes.

I know, because I worried about these things, too. And the following is a short list of my mistakes as a mom just with my first (a.k.a., “learner”) child.

• High-pressure potty training.
• Starting her in kindergarten and ballet and church kids’ club all in the same week.
• That accidental half sumo wrestler/half alien hula girl birthday cake.
• Letting her sign on for a killer academic and extracurricular load her sophomore year in high school just because we knew she’d be able to handle it.
• Not having her take a math class the semester before she took the SAT.
• All the yelling. (Mine.)
• All the meltdowns. (Also mine.)

But the blessing of being a mom with some mileage on her is that you have the keen perspective of hindsight. The older your children get, the more you’re able to see how the story you’ve been writing turns out.

With a bunch of years behind me and my genuinely delightful teenage children in front of me, here are five things that seem to have mattered most…things that, unlike that hula girl cake, I’d do again…

If I Had It To Do Over, I’d Still Do These 5 Things As a Mom

1. I’d still do the time.

By which I do not mean that motherhood is some kind of prison sentence. (Well, except maybe during the fifth round of Candyland.) I mean that the classic line really is right: kids spell love “t-i-m-e.” I don’t think I’m the only mom who wishes this wasn’t quite so true. Sometimes, we wish we could press the express-wash button on motherhood and condense things so that they still have their full effect but don’t take so long.

We are busy. We have other things we need to do and want to do. Good things. Necessary things. Important things. We want quantity to equal quality, but I have found the reality is that quantity often leads to quality.

By all appearances, my teenage daughters love to spend time with me. I am beyond grateful for this. But I don’t think we got to this point last week or last month. I think we got to it in a hundred little moments when they were toddlers and elementary students and pre-teenagers. Day in and day out, in ordinary moments, I think we laid the foundation for something that feels pretty extraordinary.

My older children want to spend time with me, ask to spend time with me, seek out time with me, and tell me how much they love time with me. This is an enormous privilege I dare not take for granted. If you’re a mom of littles and you’re wondering if all the time you spend with your children really makes a difference in the long run, I’m here to tell you it does.

2. I’d still let my children be who they are and feel what they feel.

One of our family’s guiding principles is “we welcome weird.” I was never interested in forcing my children into some sort of societal “acceptable personality” mold. Do I want my children to be happy and act happy? Of course! Would I be concerned if moody and sullen and withdrawn were the main characteristics I saw in them? Of course! But we were created intentionally with a full range of emotions and diverse possible personalities. To expect my children to be cheerful, optimistic, easy-going extroverts would have been unrealistic and unfair.

My girls tell me they feel they can come to me with anything that’s on their minds and hearts, and one reason I think this is true is because they know I am not going to try to talk them out of how they feel or instruct them to react to something in a way that dishonors their personalities. Of course, I want to teach them to manage their emotions in a healthy ways. I want to teach them that they cannot only act and react according to what they feel like based on their default settings.

There is growth and maturity and self-sacrifice, and these are good things, too. But my husband and I have always wanted our house to be a safe zone where sorrows can be shared and divided and joys can be shared and multiplied. Besides, I want my girls to love and cherish and accept me in all my mom messiness, so how can I offer them any less?

3. I’d still speak my kids’ love languages.

I’m not talking about tween/teen slang here, although my high school freshman did inform me the other day, “Mom, you can still say ‘hashtag whatever,’ but you’ll be the only one.” (Noted.) I want to speak love to my girls, but I need to try to do it in their dialects as much as possible. Words of encouragement are huge to my older daughter, while quality time–especially if I’m using that time to tell her the “stories” from my childhood she loves to hear–is what sounds like love to my younger daughter.

4. I’d still schedule selectively.

By most measuring sticks, my girls did not rack up very impressive resumes of extracurricular and social activities. Their lives–especially in middle school and beyond–primarily consisted of family, church, school, band, dance, and friends, in that general order. We’ve said “no” to things that a lot of other families say “yes” to–not because there’s anything inherently wrong with those things but just because they weren’t right for our family.

We weren’t denying our girls their future happiness; we were preserving their present happiness. Our little family prioritizes time at home together–which is hard to accomplish if no one is ever home or together. Both my teenagers have commented recently how much they love it when we’re all hanging around the house and eating meals as a family, which tells me we made the right call for us.

5. I’d still recognize the big value of little things.

Motherhood is a great, grand calling to shape eternal souls and mold the minds and hearts of people who are given to us as gifts. But what that great, grand calling looks like on your average Tuesday is made up of a thousand small decisions and acts that give love a voice and hands and feet. Again and again, I have seen how much these little things matter.

Awhile back, I tucked a sticky note into my daughter’s lunch: I’d taped a couple Rolo chocolate-caramel candies to it and written “I Rolo-y love you” on it. A few hours later, my daughter texted me: “Thank you for my Rolo-y note! It made my day.” Little thing…big impact.

I know there are no guarantees in motherhood. I know anything could still happen. But this far in, what my children seem to remember most is not the mistakes but the love.

And that tells me that for all I got wrong, I somehow got more that mattered right.

If you liked this post you might also enjoy…

• It’s What I Don’t Do that Makes me the Best Mom I Can Be
• What if all I Want for my Kids is an Ordinary Life?
• How to Stop Letting Perfectionism Ruin Your Motherhood

“How many baskets do you think I can make in this game, Mom?”

We were driving to a 7th-grade basketball game when my son started speculating about his performance.

“I made 5 in our last game; I should be able to make at least 7 today.” Pause. “Nathan made 10 last time.”

When will parenting stop surprising me? I thought to myself as we approached the school. He still seems so young to me… Too young for this kind of measuring-stick talk and fixation with performance.

I looked at his innocent face, knowing I had so little time before he would swing open the passenger door and jump out to join his friends. So little time to tell him all that I felt in that moment.

All that I believe.

Is it okay if all you want for your kids is an ordinary life?

Because what I want more than anything for my kids is a calm, modest life filled with love and a little adventure—but most of all, an appreciation for the ordinariness of it all. 

I want them to stop seeking more and instead appreciate what they have.

I want them to love deeply, not to be liked by many. 

I want contentment, security, love, gratitude, and kindness to be the measure of their success—not their number of Instagram followers or the prestige of the college they get into or the paycheck that comes with their chosen career.

I want them to know what a treasure each ordinary day is.

I want them to love the ordinary, to embrace it—to create it.

If I’d had all the time in the world, there in the front-seat of our SUV, I would have told my son—

Take off the pressure, my handsome boy. You have everything you need inside of you.

You don’t need to be loud to be heard. You don’t need to look a certain way to be seen. You don’t need to be liked by everyone. You don’t need to do earth-shattering things to make a difference in this world.

Your worth is not determined by how many baskets you score in today’s basketball game. It does not determine your value to the team, and it has NO baring on your value as an individual. 

Your worth has nothing to do with a collection of A’s on a report card, the number of friends you have, or the number of likes you get on social media. 

This, my child, is what I want for you: 

Less striving for excellence. More time to exhale and take in all the beauty that life is.

Less competing. More completing.

Less seeking applause. More putting your arm around someone who’s lonely.

Less loud. More quiet. 

Less needing to be heard. More time to listen.

Less “I’m better than you.” More “how can I be a better me?”

Less striving. More silence.

Less running. More reflection. 

Less emphasis on grades. More focus on gratitude.

Less stress. More laughter.

Less pushing. More patience—with others and yourself.

In that moment, I said what I could before my son hopped out of our car. For now, I have to trust that those little conversations—scattered all throughout their childhood and adolescence—will add up for my children, so that they know that I’m not holding up a measuring stick of any kind.

I’m just here, loving them with my arms wide open, hoping that they each get to live thousands of ordinary days—and recognize what a gift those days are.

If you liked this post you might also enjoy…

• 18 Summers: It’s All We Get
• Two Words Every Child Needs to Hear
• Dear Mom of Big Kids
• Motherhood Simplified

If we focus on all that our life isn’t, we miss all the beauty that our life IS. Four powerful ways to combat comparison in motherhood.

Photos courtesy of Stephanie Michaelis Photography

I was never a mom who arrived showered and with her hair done. I’d compare myself to the women who appeared at 9am preschool drop-off glowing with a full face of makeup. I could barely get us all dressed, fed and in clean-ish clothes—let alone think about putting a stitch of makeup on my face.

I was never a mom who arrived at church with a well-groomed family and a calm heart. I’d watch other women who seemed to float into church, holding hands with their husband, children obediently in tow. It appeared effortless for them. I compared this story in my head with the very real, very chaotic morning I’d just had wrestling children into clothes they didn’t want to wear (while my husband slept in)… gulping down half a bowl of cereal after feeding everyone else… walking into church feeling like a haggard mess before the meeting had even begun.

I was never a mom who could juggle working a full-time job, writing a book, organizing a charity event, effortlessly running a blog or online business—while raising children. In my mind, I was in the throes of dirty diapers, spit up, and little sleep—accomplishing very little that ever stayed done—while other women were significantly contributing to the world.

I constantly repeated these messages of “I am not enough,” and it was so destructive.

Have you felt this before?

Maybe every day?

Maybe every hour of every day?

From what I’ve experienced and observed in my conversations with friends, we all are susceptible to comparison in motherhood, and these are some of the issues that plague us most:

6 Common Ways Mothers Compare Themselves to Each Other

• Physical appearance. Hair, makeup, weight, body composition, etc.
• Our mothering abilities. This one is especially emotional for me.
• Our children and their behaviors. From how well they listen to how much time they spend on screens—and so much more.
• Our marriages. Enough said.
• The state of our homes. Neat, dirty, cluttered, organized?
• Our personal accomplishments. Especially while raising kids.

Over the years, as I’ve gotten to know friends and learned of other people’s struggles and lived through more of my own, experience has taught me that we really don’t know what others’ behind-the-scenes look like. And more importantly, I’ve learned that—

If we continually focus on all that our life isn’t, we’re missing all the beauty that our life is.

The biggest help for me has been learning to reframe.

Instead of—”Man, her house always looks so clean,” I try to think, “Our messes show life and creativity and love—and remind me that this stage won’t last forever.”

Instead of—”Goodness, why can’t I get my act together like other moms and pack my kids healthy lunches?” I try to think, “I’m choosing to have my kids buy school lunch so I can free up some time every morning and reduce my stress.”

It takes consciousness—and practice. But it’s so worth it.

“Don’t compare your life to others. There’s no comparison between the sun and the moon. They shine when it’s their time.” – unknown

4 Powerful Ways to Combat Comparison in Motherhood

1. Know your purpose.

When you’ve honed in on what your purpose is for your particular season, it’s easier to let those comparisons fall by the wayside. Let comparison be a cue to you to refocus on your unique purpose.

2. Practice relentless gratitude. 

Gratitude is the best antidote to comparison. It takes us out of where we think we should be and reminds us of the beauty in where we are.

3. Change your focus. 

Instead of letting yourself fall down the rabbit hole, could you step outside of yourself by doing something for someone else?

4. Reduce your time on social media. 

Social media deserves its own section—probably its own post!—because it is so often the root of our most damaging comparisons.

Comparison becomes especially dangerous when we judge ourselves harshly against the filtered, edited, curated view of reality we often see on social media.

The well behaved, smiling children that always get along, the beautifully decorated house, the spouse who is constantly doing sweet things to surprise his wife, a friend’s career accomplishments. We may envy the vacation someone just took, but this is just a tiny sliver of their entire life. It’s the truth—but not the whole truth.

The reality is, people are constantly showcasing the best aspects of their life on social media. And we are using the same scale to measure two entirely different realities.

When you find yourself slipping deeper into comparisons that stem from social media, don’t be afraid to step back. Delete the apps from your phone for a while. Unfollow people who may (even unintentionally) be making you feel like you come up short. Take the steps you need to take. 

It’s for my own happiness but also my daughters‘ future happiness that I’m so invested in the stumbling block that is the comparison trap.

I want my girls to talk to themselves with love, compassion, and self-respect, and that starts with me.

So the next time you compare yourself to the mom who never forgets a soccer practice or a permission slip while you’re over there struggling just to remember to wipe the kitchen table before the rice krispies dry and become so stuck you have to chisel them off… Remember this: 

“Admire others’ beauty without questioning your own.” – unknown

You are enough.

If you liked this post you might also enjoy…

• It’s What I Don’t Do that Makes me the Best Mom I Can Be
• Confessions of an Unbalanced Mom
• Not a Perfect Mom, But an Enough Mom
• How to Stop Letting Perfectionism Ruin Your Motherhood