Maybe The Problem Isn't Motherhood

It was picture day at school.

And before 7:00 a.m., we were already in a battle.

“I am NOT wearing that.”

My 7-year-old stood there with her arms crossed, staring down at the adorable, perfectly curated outfit that was now crumpled on the floor.

The night before, we had agreed on it.

“You ARE wearing that. Put it on NOW.” I fired back.

But it was pretty clear she had made her stance.

And just like that, she was leaving the house in the T-shirt and patterned pants she had chosen instead.

I was pissed. Maybe more pissed than I needed to be.

The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. It was a school picture. Not a college application. A school picture. The kind with the cheesy gray marbled background where the photographer somehow doesn’t notice your child isn’t looking at the camera.

And when was the last time I actually did anything with a school picture other than take a picture of the picture and send it to the family group text?

So... reality check for me.

And mama, I’m being vulnerable here for your benefit.

Not because I particularly enjoy admitting that patterned pants got me THIS worked up. But because I want to inspire you to be vulnerable too. When we look in the mirror and understand ourselves, motherhood gets a whole lot easier.

Because the more I reflected on that morning, the more I realized something uncomfortable.

My reaction wasn’t really about the outfit. It wasn’t about the picture. And it definitely wasn’t about the patterned pants.

It was about the rules.

The stories we tell ourselves about what it means to be successful, lovable, worthy, or a good mom.

As I sat there replaying the picture-day argument in my head, I started asking myself why I cared so much. Not why I preferred the outfit I picked. That’s obvious. I picked it because it was SO cute. (Matilda Jane dress with matching whimsy pants and bow... IYKYK.)

The deeper question was why I was having such a strong emotional reaction to a choice that, in the grand scheme of life, didn’t matter much at all.

I realized I was reacting from a set of beliefs I didn’t even know I was carrying.

Beliefs about what successful families look like.

Beliefs about what a good mother does.

Beliefs about appearance, achievement, and how children “should” present themselves.

The patterned pants hadn’t created those beliefs. They had simply exposed them.

And that’s the thing about motherhood.

The tantrum is rarely just about the toy. The argument is rarely just about the dishes. And sometimes the fight about picture-day pants isn’t actually about the pants. Sometimes it’s about the invisible rules we’ve been carrying around for years. The rules that tell us who we need to be in order to be enough.

Many of us are operating under beliefs we rarely stop to question.

“In order to be successful, I must...”

“In order to be loved, I must...”

“In order to be accepted, I must...”

“In order to be a good mother, I must...”

Until one day we’re carrying around a rulebook we never consciously agreed to.

So let me be extra vulnerable here and demonstrate the rules that came out during the picture-day fight. The rules I created during childhood. The ones that were passed down to me.

“In order to be successful, I must be perfect.”

Another is:

“In order to be valued, I must appear a certain way.”

And if I’m being really honest?

Somewhere along the way I picked up:

“In order to be a good mom, my kids should always look put together.”

Oof.

Because if I had recognized what was happening in that moment, I could have reminded myself that she’s a wonderful kid. I’m still a good mom. Life will still go on. Even if she wears patterned pants. Even if the cutest Matilda Jane outfit I’d ever seen doesn’t make it into the cheesy school photo.

Maybe I would have simply been disappointed while also celebrating her independence.

And maybe I wouldn’t have wasted 30% of my emotional energy fighting a battle that didn’t actually matter.

I can confidently say I’m working to rewrite these rules. And if you see my children with unruly hair, mismatched clothes, or wearing an Elsa dress and lady bug boots to picture day…

Something this taught me, alongside my work as a psychologist working with moms, is that mothers aren’t just exhausted from motherhood itself (although it IS exhausting).

We’re exhausted because we’re existing from a playbook that is nonsense.

A playbook that triggers us. A playbook full of impossible standards. A playbook filled with rules we didn’t consciously choose but somehow feel obligated to follow.

Rules that are reinforced by social media, family culture, school culture, and the world around us.

I preach this all the time:

You don’t need to “do better” as a mom. You don’t need to become more organized. You don’t need a better planner.

That’s not the goal.

The goal is becoming aware of the rules that convinced you that you weren’t enough to begin with.

Read that again.

Grab a journal. Open the notes app on your phone. Write on the back of a Target receipt. I don’t care where you do it.

Complete these sentences:

In order to be successful, I must...

In order to be loved, I must...

In order to be accepted, I must...

In order to be a good mother, I must...

In order to be worthy, I must...

Then look at your answers and ask yourself a few questions.

Where did these beliefs come from?

Would I want my daughter carrying this rule?

Would I want my son carrying it?

And perhaps most importantly...

Is this belief helping me become the person I want to be?

Or is it quietly stealing my joy?

And that’s exactly why I’m creating my motherhood course.

Because so many mothers are trying to change their parenting without ever understanding the beliefs driving it. We’re focused on the behavior while ignoring the operating system underneath it.

Inside the course, we’ll dig into the invisible rules, the perfectionism, the guilt, the people-pleasing, the pressure, and the expectations that keep so many women stuck in survival mode.

And if you’re reading this thinking:

“Wow... I have a lot of rules.”

You’re exactly who I’m creating it for.

If you’re interested in seeing how I teach some of these same self-awareness skills to children, check out one of best sellers: My Feelings Art Journal.

It’s designed to help kids build emotional awareness, self-reflection, and emotional intelligence years before most of us ever learned how.

Each page includes conversation prompts that help you connect with your child while helping them better understand themselves.

Because the earlier we learn to understand ourselves, the less time we spend being controlled by beliefs we never consciously chose.

💛

With you in this wild ride,

Dr. Taylor
Psychologist, Mom of 3, and Founder of Feelosophy