Downward angle icon Downward angle icon. The author says she felt like she had to be an over-doer while raising her first two children, but learned to ask for help the third time around. Amanda Miller Littlejohn, Getty Images, Tyler Le/BI When I had my son in my 20s, I was an over-doer. Now that I’m 40 and have a toddler, I’ve learned I don’t have to burn out to be a good mom. I’ve realized it’s okay to ask others in my community for help.
I had a teenage son in my late 20s and was raising two toddlers by 30. Now, in my 40s and raising a toddler again, it’s just not the same.
I grew up as a typical high-achieving older millennial. After becoming a mother, I viewed parenting as my most important task and was determined to do it perfectly.
After my oldest son reached adulthood, I was unimpressed with some of the mom-and-daughter art and music classes I took him to observe, so I set out to design my own inquiry-based art curriculum rooted in African-American culture.
At home, I introduced my sons to the music of Fela Kuti and John Coltrane and the art of Jacob Lawrence, Romare Bearden and Jean-Michel Basquiat. We tried our hand at making our own mixed-media collages and painting watercolors on the floor while the polyrhythms of Afrobeat music echoed in the kitchen.
When my kids were toddlers, I was their teacher. I structured their day around breakfast, some kind of lesson, a morning outing to a museum or a walk on a forest trail, and some errands for me to run before coming home for lunch. Then I would put them down for a nap while I worked on projects for my consulting clients.
I remember touring a few daycare facilities and even staying with one for a few months, but ultimately decided that my boys would be better off staying at home with me so I could watch them grow up more closely, and my husband and I both agreed.
I was obsessed with the idea of my children learning and “getting ahead” even before they officially started school. When they were 2 and 3 years old, I bought them LEGO building kits, puzzles, and coloring books designed for 4 and 5 year olds. I always pushed my children to go beyond average, I wanted them to be extraordinary.
If my kids showed even the slightest bit of interest, I would seek out lessons, camps, and classes. I would buy loads of professional art supplies, sometimes investing hundreds of dollars in them even when my kids didn’t ask me to.
To be clear, it wasn’t anyone else who pressured me, it was me. I saw my achievements exceeding my own expectations as preparation for future success in an ultra-competitive society. I wasn’t born into a wealthy family, but what I didn’t have an inheritance, I made up for with sheer grit.
I was confident my sons were on track when they formally started school at ages 3 and 4 — the youngest was reading, the eldest was studying at a Chinese immersion school, formal piano lessons started the following year — and I kept a close eye on their development outside the classroom.
The author created a structured day for her two young sons. Courtesy of Amanda Miller Littlejohn
When my daughter was born, things were different.
While I was a great mom and trying to grow my career and get my business off the ground, I often put myself on the back burner. My parenting style was sacrificing my inner child — the freedom to feel joy and build a stronger relationship with myself.
I stopped nurturing my own interests the way I had before I had kids, and instead poured all of my parenting energy into them. I stopped creative writing, reading for pleasure, and just going out with girlfriends for fun. Instead, I viewed leisure time as an opportunity to move forward. I had to make every moment count.
So when I gave birth to my daughter at the end of 2020, 12 years after giving birth to my last son, I was exhausted. Her birth in the middle of a pandemic forced me to acknowledge my limitations as I approached 40 and led to severe burnout. My daughter helped me take a break. She also helped me find community.
We kept our boys at home for the first few years of their lives, but with a deadly virus circulating and a vaccine still in its infancy, we thought it would be best to keep our daughter at home as well. But just after our daughter turned one, our pediatrician recommended we enroll her in a local in-home daycare so she could get out of the house and be with other children. We tried it and found it to be a great fit for our daughter.
No, it wasn’t a Montessori program that incorporated the latest research into children’s social-emotional development, but she seemed to enjoy it. She had fun every day, showed affection for her teachers, and seemed to enjoy being part of a peer group.
I shifted my focus from, “Is she successful?” to, “Is she becoming a well-adjusted, happy person?” And when I realized the answer was “yes” and that this was the path to success, that was enough for me.
When my sons were young, I thought of motherhood as something I had to navigate alone. Because we lived hundreds of miles away from our family home in Tennessee, my husband and I had little family to help care for our children. Most of the mothers in school at the time were older than me, and women my age hadn’t yet had children.
But this time, more people my age also have young children, so I have a community, and now I regularly copy their homework instead of figuring it all out and expecting praise.
I learned that it’s okay to ask other parents for help.
My girl mom network has shared hand-me-down winter coats, barely worn Easter dresses, and pediatric specialist recommendations. They’ve provided me with Saturday soccer registration links and extensive notes on elementary school options. They’ve done my homework to find the best ballet class for my 3-year-old, and I’ve already found a hair braider who will come to my house and is adept at handling a squirming toddler.
In the past, I used to feel guilty asking for recommendations, like I was cutting in line. I always did my part and went above and beyond what was expected. I didn’t want to come across as lazy. But I’ve learned that relying on my network for introductions doesn’t make me a lazy, unserious, or uninterested parent. Their support keeps me from wearing myself out.
In my 30s, I used to worry that if I was the only parent working too much and not delivering as expected, I would be hindering my children’s development. But as I grew older, my thinking changed, and now I can forgive myself.
When my older kids were little, I felt pressured into parenting, as if a lot would fall apart if I didn’t encourage them. I think a lot of my self-worth depended on how well I did as a mother. Every achievement my kids made was like a gold star, proof that I was a really good mom. If they weren’t progressing, or at least not on the right path, I had failed.
I think it was mostly because I viewed them as “my greatest achievements” and saw their own achievements as the currency they needed for their future happiness and success.
I know that the way the world works, some achievement is necessary, but not necessarily necessary for the happiness or success they ultimately seek. They are not me. We are similar in many ways, but different in some ways. They tell me they are grateful for the early push, but was it necessary for them to get to where they are now? I’m not so sure.
The author learned that while raising her daughter, it’s okay to ask friends and other parents for advice. Courtesy Amanda Miller Littlejohn
You don’t have to work too hard to be considered a good mother
Being more relaxed this time means I’m more focused. I’m not my daughter’s CEO or performance coach. I’m just her mom. Right now, we play without a plan. Not every toy teaches a new skill, and games don’t have to be stepping stones.
I think mothers are starting to change the idea that they need to pour all their free time and effort into their kids to be considered “good” and to be considered good mothers. Of course, we want our kids to be great, but at the same time, we’re learning to trust that they’ll find their own path. Their path doesn’t have to be so planned; we can just let it unfold naturally.
My daughter is 3 and can’t yet read like my older children did when they were her age, but she is one of the most socially intelligent kids I know. So instead of comparing her to her siblings, I nurture her natural talents and celebrate her uniqueness. I’m learning to raise her as a person, not as a project for extra credit.
I’m not trying to do the bare minimum as a mother, but I know that overworking myself at this stage is neither realistic nor necessary. I’ve already gotten my work done and, for the most part, my kids are doing well. I don’t need to exhaust myself in order for them to stay well.
