The Unicorn Mother:
Let’s be honest, society has completely distorted the image of the perfect mother. The perfect mother is like a unicorn—everyone talks about her, but no one has ever actually seen her. Still, the expectations are sky-high. She wakes up smiling, ready to conquer the day, and her house is always spotless, as if invisible cleaners follow her around. There are no toys on the floor, no sticky stains, and somehow the laundry is always done. Every morning she creates an Instagram-worthy breakfast, filled with organic, gluten-free, sugar-free perfection, while her children look like they just stepped out of a catalog—clean, polished, and perfectly put together.
At the same time, she has a career that is both impressive and flexible. She works hard, yet is always home on time, effortlessly balancing everything without breaking a sweat. She even has a creative hobby, attends every school activity, and still manages to look flawless—even first thing in the morning. Her children are polite, intelligent, and thriving, and if something goes wrong, she handles it with the wisdom of Gandhi and the calm of a Zen master.
Her relationship looks like something out of a romantic movie: a supportive partner, weekly date nights, shared dreams, and a deep emotional connection. Her social life is just as perfect—meaningful friendships, dinners, outings, always there for others, never needing help herself. She eats healthy, exercises daily, has glowing skin, no bad days, no mood swings—just endless positivity.
But let’s be real—this mother does not exist. She is a myth, a story society has handed us, and the moment we try to live up to her, we lose ourselves. Real mothers are imperfect. We make mistakes. And in those imperfections lies the true beauty of motherhood.
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The “Worst” Mother:
So if the perfect mother is a unicorn, what does the “worst” mother look like in real life? She wakes up with her hair going in every direction and a face that says she barely made it through the night. Her house is a mix of scattered toys, laundry piles, and empty coffee cups—lived-in, chaotic, real. Breakfast is often quick and practical: cereal, a sandwich, or sometimes nothing at all because everyone is running late. That perfect breakfast table? Not happening.
She tries to balance work and family, often feeling stretched thin. She forgets things, runs late, struggles with deadlines, and sometimes misses school activities. Hobbies are rare, because most days already feel like pushing through a jungle of responsibilities. Her children are exactly what children are supposed to be: messy, emotional, unpredictable. Not always polite, not always top of the class, sometimes covered in chocolate or wearing clothes with stains or holes.
When problems arise, she handles them as best as she can—with improvisation, humor, and sometimes sheer exhaustion. Her relationship is not a fairytale, but a mix of love, tension, and tiredness. No perfect rhythm, no weekly date nights, just two people trying to navigate life together. Friendships exist, but in a different way—less polished, more real. A few people who truly understand, conversations over a glass of wine, laughter about how messy life actually is.
She tries to be healthy, but also reaches for chocolate when needed. Exercise happens when there is time and energy, which isn’t often. She has bad days, mood swings, moments where everything feels too much. And yet, she keeps going. She embraces her imperfections, not because she wants to, but because she has learned that life simply doesn’t fit into a perfect mold. And in that messy, chaotic reality, there is something deeply real and powerful. That is motherhood.
Me, the “Worst” Mother in a nutshell:
When I let a friend read my introduction, she said something that stayed with me: mothers are imperfect, just like everyone else, but with mothers it becomes painfully visible because children are living mirrors—you cannot hide from them. That hit the nail on the head. Make one mistake, and your children will remind you of it for the rest of your life. Like that time I made a minced-meat-and-banana dish, which according to my children was the most disgusting thing I had ever created. Or the moment a curse word slipped out of my mouth and they immediately jumped on it—“Oooooh mom!”—and just like that, you’ve undermined your own parenting.
And yes, you will hear it forever: “Remember that time, mom…?” Because there is no manual. I checked—nothing. So you do what every mother does: you read books, talk to others, try to figure it out while you’re already in it. And just when you think you’ve got a phase under control, something new appears out of nowhere. Yesterday the sun was shining, today it’s storming inside your house.
“Don’t run on the gravel!” I said.
“I won’t, mom.”
Five minutes later—crying child, scraped knees. And to this day, that story comes back whenever something goes wrong.
I wasn’t any better myself. I was a walking disaster—always falling, always bruised. Running to the beach and landing flat on my face, crashing through a glass door, falling out of a bunk bed, even doing a cartwheel straight into a key sticking out of a closet. Honestly, I could have slapped myself. And still, here I am, trying to protect my children from making the same mistakes, even though I know they have to fall and get back up themselves.
So maybe it’s not about preventing every fall. Maybe it’s about being there when they get up again. Be kind to yourself and embrace your inner “worst” mother—not as failure, but as truth. “I did my best, and it still blew up in my face.” That doesn’t make you a bad mother. It makes you human. And showing that humanity to your children might be the most valuable lesson of all.
☕️ A cup of comfort
Are you not a unicorn mother?
Don’t panic.
You are not alone.
Maybe you didn’t serve sugar-free granola in a bamboo bowl this morning.
Maybe your child is wearing two different socks again today.
You forgot the school photos.
You snapped over something small.
That parent meeting should have been yesterday.
But you know what?
You were there.
You are there.
You keep showing up.
You carry your children and your guilt in the same breath.
You fail with love.
You succeed with tears.
You cry in the car.
You laugh while brushing teeth.
You get up.
Even when you didn’t want to.
You say sorry.
Even when you don’t have the words.
You cook with what you have.
You love with everything you have.
And that… is motherhood.
Not perfect.
But real.
So take a sip.
Warm.
Honest.
For you.
The “worst” mother.
And the best your children will ever have. ❤️
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