If I could go back and sit beside the younger me—the me surrounded by toys, tantrums, sleepless nights, and endless “why” questions—I think I’d hold her hand and tell her a few things.
I’d tell her she’s doing better than she thinks.
I’d tell her that the messy house doesn’t matter. That one day, she’ll barely remember the laundry piles or the crumbs under the table—but she will remember the way her kids looked up at her, hoping she’d pause what she was doing and just be with them.
I’d tell her that connection comes first, always. That the moments when she feels like the worst mum ever—the ones where she shouts, or sighs too loudly, or hides in the bathroom—don’t make her a bad parent. They make her human. And that repair matters more than perfection.
I’d tell her that all those worries about doing it “right”… they came from love. But I’d also tell her that sometimes doing it right means slowing down, letting go, and just being with her kids—no agenda, no pressure, no Pinterest-worthy crafts.
I’d tell her that she won’t ruin her children by having bad days.
That what her kids need most isn’t a perfect version of her, but a present one.
And I’d remind her—gently—that childhood goes fast. That one day the baby on her hip will be taller than her, and she’ll ache for just one more bedtime story, one more sticky cuddle, one more “Mummy, look at me!”
"One day, you'll look back and realise the small stuff never really mattered. It was the love. The connection. The way you showed up."
If You're in the Thick of It
If you’re reading this and you’re still knee-deep in the early years, I see you.
It’s exhausting. It’s relentless. It’s full of joy and guilt and love and doubt, all tangled together.
And one day, you’ll look back and realise you were doing it. Maybe not perfectly, but with so much heart.
So if you need someone to say it today:
You’re doing enough.
You are enough.
And your kids are lucky to have you.
Even on the days when it doesn’t feel like it.
