Why I Stopped Trying to Be a Supermom (and What Actually Got Easier)

I used to wear my burnout like a badge of honor. If I wasn’t exhausted, over-scheduled, and doing seventeen things at once, was I even momming hard enough?

I had this vision of Supermom in my head — you know the one. She meal preps, she crafts, her car smells like lavender instead of forgotten chicken nuggets. She volunteers at school, runs a side hustle, and somehow still has energy to flirt with her husband after bedtime. I wanted to be her. I tried to be her.

Spoiler alert: she’s not real. And trying to be her nearly broke me.

The Supermom Myth (a.k.a. Who Even IS She?)

Somewhere along the way, we were sold this image — maybe it came from Pinterest, maybe it came from that one mom on Instagram who packs bento box lunches with edible flowers and has a neutral-toned playroom that somehow never looks played in. Wherever she came from, I bought into the fantasy.

I thought being a “good mom” meant being everything to everyone, all the time. That if I just tried hard enough, I could juggle all the things: perfect kids, perfect house, perfect marriage, perfect body, perfect business, perfect emotional regulation (lol).

But let’s be honest — no one is clapping for moms who silently suffer while holding the world together with dry shampoo and anxiety.

The more I tried to keep up with this impossible standard, the more I felt like I was failing. I was tired. I was snappy. I was stretched so thin that even one unexpected spill or tantrum felt like a crisis. And worst of all? I wasn’t even enjoying the moments I was working so hard to create.

The Breaking Point

My breaking point wasn’t some big dramatic moment — no shouting match, no public meltdown (though I’ve come close at times). It was a regular Tuesday. I was unloading the dishwasher with one hand, holding a toddler on my hip, mentally running through a to-do list that somehow included “plan Pinterest-worthy birthday party,” “finally reply to that email from three weeks ago,” and “figure out why the fridge smells like death.”

Then my oldest asked me if I’d sit and play with her for a minute.

And I snapped: “I can’t right now, I have too much to do.”

Her little face just… dropped. And my heart broke a little right then and there.

I realized I had become the kind of mom who was always doing, but rarely being. I was chasing some invisible finish line that never came. And my kids weren’t getting the best of me — they were getting the leftover scraps.

That night, after bedtime, I sat on the couch surrounded by unfolded laundry, half-empty cups, and a mountain of guilt. And I thought: “What am I even doing this for?”

That was the moment I decided to stop. Not stop being a mom, of course — but stop trying to be that mom. The one who doesn’t exist.

What I Let Go Of

Once I gave myself permission to quit the Supermom Olympics, I started dropping balls on purpose. And guess what? The world didn’t end. No one revoked my mom card.

Here’s what I stopped doing — maybe you’ll feel seen:

• The pristine house fantasy. I traded “everything in its place” for “no one’s stepping on LEGOs and there’s no visible

• mold.” That’s a win in my book.

• Making everything from scratch. Store-bought cupcakes still taste like love. And no one cares if the chicken nuggets are shaped like dinosaurs or not.

• The constant ‘yes.’ No, I can’t volunteer for every classroom thing. No, I don’t want to do back-to-back birthday parties every weekend. No is a full sentence, and it’s become one of my favorite ones.

• Looking put-together at all times. Some days I look like I’m running errands. Other days I look like the errands ran me. It’s fine.

• Trying to do it all without help. Asking for help isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. Whether it’s my partner, my mom, or DoorDash — delegation is a survival skill.

  
  

The truth is, when I stopped chasing perfection, I started making space for presence. My kids don’t need a Supermom. They need a mom who sees them. Laughs with them. Snuggles without checking her phone. And that version of me? She’s finally got room to breathe.

What Actually Got Easier

Here’s the wild part: when I stopped trying to do everything, everything got easier. Not in a “rainbows and unicorns” kind of way — but in a deep, soul-exhaling kind of way.

• My home felt more peaceful. Not cleaner, not quieter, but lighter. I stopped snapping over small messes because I wasn’t carrying the weight of perfection on my shoulders anymore. It turns out, happy kids matter more than spotless baseboards. Who knew?

• My relationships improved. With my partner, with my kids, even with myself. When I wasn’t running on fumes, I had more patience, more presence, more ability to listen instead of just react. I stopped keeping score and started choosing connection.

• I started enjoying motherhood again. Not every second (let’s not get crazy), but way more than before. I laughed more. I danced in the kitchen again. I let go of the guilt that told me rest was lazy and joy was optional.

• I felt more like… me. Not just someone’s mom or someone’s wife or the lady who knows where the socks are — me. The me who watches facebook reels, who loves coffee, who sometimes hides in the bathroom for peace and quiet and snacks.

  
  

Stepping out of the Supermom costume didn’t make me a worse mom — it made me a real one. And real moms? We’re pretty freaking powerful.

To the Mom Who's Tired of Trying to Do It All…

If you’re reading this and nodding along, maybe a little teary, maybe clutching a lukewarm coffee in one hand and a sticky toddler in the other — I just want you to know something:

You are enough.

Not when the laundry is done. Not when your house looks Instagram-worthy. Not when you finally catch up on everything (spoiler: you never will). You are enough right now, as you are, even in the chaos, even in the mess.

Let go of the version of motherhood that’s breaking you. Embrace the version that gives you life.

Say yes to rest. Say no without guilt. Be real, be soft, be messy — be you.

Because your kids don’t need a Supermom. They just need you, showing up with love — and maybe a snack.

💬 Want to connect?

Been there too? Let’s talk about it in the comments — what have you let go of that made motherhood a little lighter?