Give yourself grace. This month, forgive.

A recent morning went like this: older son throwing a tantrum because there weren’t enough sprinkles on one bite of his french toast and I refused to get more. Gave him a hug while he screamed, which made the little one get jealous and throw the sandwich he had (which had been my breakfast before he stole it) on the floor. It was Day 6 of their quarantine after a COVID exposure and…I don’t know. It was just the last straw. I could feel my face flushing, my urge to yell or scream or cry myself. So instead, I just walked away. I left my husband with them in the dining room, and tried to ignore the “mama! Mama! MAMA!” that wailed from the room as I left. I laid down on my bed and took deep breaths, their screams only slightly muffled by my closed bedroom door. I kept thinking what a horrible mom I must be, to lose my cool before I even had my coffee. To be so selfish that I just wanted to get back to work, to our routine, to reliable childcare. A failure that I couldn’t find the perfect activities to keep them entertained for 6 days, that I had been letting their brains turn to mush in front of the TV, that neither had eaten more than one single vegetable in all that time, that I put them to nap early and hoped they would sleep longer (spoiler: they didn’t). But then as I laid there, I thought what I was asking for really wasn’t that big. I had been so looking forward to finding our routine again in the new year. To work, for my son to go to school, for our nanny to be the extra set of hands that I so desperately need. To have one minute where I could breathe – alone. 

So many of us have been through the ringer for nearly 2 years, with no end in sight. But parents – and mostly moms, let’s be honest – have borne the brunt. I was watching a 60 Minutes episode recently that said of all the millions of jobs lost during the early 2020 shutdowns, the employees who haven’t returned to the workforce are predominantly mothers of young children. I wanted to yell at the TV “Well, how COULD they?!” We are expected to be the stable ones, the ones who manage it all without a second thought. The ones who can drop everything to quarantine at a moment’s notice, or juggle Zoom school, or find the last at-home test, or find the one N95 that’s not counterfeit that a preschooler would actually wear, or calculate the risk of…every. single. thing. And on top of that, to try and perform at our jobs and in our relationships the way we did before all of this. It’s just SO MUCH PRESSURE. 

In that single moment over breakfast, it wasn’t the tantrums that broke me, it was everything about the last 2 years. I love my children more than anything, and I know most of the time, I’m a good mom. I’m sure I’ll look back at this – our 3rd quarantine in a year’s time – and remember the moments we did connect and have fun. That impromptu sensory bin made with old couscous from the pantry, the colored water experiment with food coloring, the toy “car wash,” the popsicle baths, the homemade playdough. But in the thick of it, it’s hard not to focus on how many hours of TV they’ve watched or the deadlines I missed, the calls I had to push back, the yoga that I didn’t do. I was frustrated that while so many of my friends and family are back to “normal” life, we were still here in the thick of another wave of Covid like it was 2020 all over again. I was disappointed in myself that I hadn’t learned how to manage it better, that I did feel like I was in 2020 all over again. 

Now that I’m a bit more removed from that particular trying time, I can see it for what it was: an unfair judgement of myself. No one was telling me I needed to be the perfect homeschooling, from-scratch cooking, drop-everything Pinterest mom. The people I worked with understood and my friends who I cancelled plans with understood. My kids were loved and fed and enough got done around the house and enough vegetables were eaten and it was all enough. I was – I am – enough. 

I’m taking this attitude into the new month like a torch into a dark night, and I want you to join me. That resolution you’ve already given up on? Eff it. Didn’t get January off on the right foot? Join the club. Feeling the pressure of doing everything right, not dropping any balls, being the perfect version of you? Look into the mirror – see that person? They’re showing up. They’re trying. They’re enough. Laugh, cry, sweat it out, whatever. Let it go. Give yourself grace. Forgive yourself. You are doing great. We are still living in unprecedented times and just showing up is enough. You don’t have to get it right every time. You don’t have to be perfect, or nail everything you touch. If you fall down, you can start again, even if you’re slow to get up. You are enough. 

We’re bringing this intention across all of our M.T.D content this month. Our founder Melissa will share how thank you notes – yes those old-fashioned hand-written kind – have become key to her personal and professional success (and to allowing herself to forgive and forget). We’ll also be sharing our favorite tips for writing social captions – allowing you more time and less angst at getting it “right.” We’re also taking a closer look at a recent New York Time article about the correlation of followers to book sales - so if you want to write a book, let’s help you let go of some pressure there, too. We’re also deep-diving into the Gen Z TikTok backlash against productive influencers – and how it might make you feel a bit better about the pressure you feel to be “perfect.” 

As always, our contributors are joining us in our monthly intention as well. Resident DJ Lissie Jacobson is serving up the perfect soundtrack for all your activities this month, and Megan Collins of the Manicured Shelf will be selecting the perfect book recommendation to embrace your grace. We’ll also hear from media guru Nina Clarke, our wiser BFF, on how she manages the pressure of getting momming and career right. 

I hope you join us this month in a collective “eff it” scream into your pillow, or if you’re a more quiet type, a simple “you are enough” whisper in the mirror. I hope you allow yourself the space and patience you afford to others. I hope that you let go of some of the pressure to get it “right,” that you stop judging yourself (at least for a little bit), that you give yourself grace, that you forgive yourself. Believe me, I know it’s hard. But it is worth it. And I’ll be right here, as always, cheering you on.