I've been seeing all these posts lately, you know, the ones with the perfect kids in their, like, perfectly curated playrooms? Everything's just so… organized. And it just takes me back, I guess, to when my kids were little, and I remember feeling this, like, gut punch every time I saw someone else’s supposedly perfect life. I mean, my house was always a disaster, you know? There were always toys scattered everywhere, laundry piling up – it just felt like I was constantly drowning in stuff. And I’d look at those pictures and think, “Oh god, my kids are never gonna have those magical memories because their mom couldn't even keep the living room tidy.” And it sounds so silly now, like, who cares about a messy apartment? But at the time, it felt HUGE. Like I was failing at this really fundamental level of motherhood, you know? It wasn't just the mess, either, it was everything connected to it. I felt like a failure at my job, too, always trying to keep up with, like, the career ladder and all the office politics, and then coming home to a house that looked like a bomb went off. And I’d try, I really would, to sort of make things better, but it was just never enough. I remember one time, I actually spent an entire weekend trying to clean out the playroom, thinking if I just GOT IT RIGHT, everything else would sort of fall into place. But it just… didn’t. The toys were back out, like, two days later, and I was right back to feeling that shame, that worry that my kids were somehow being deprived because I wasn’t some sort of super-mom who could juggle everything and make it all look effortless. It was exhausting, honestly, just carrying around that feeling all the time. And you know, even now, looking back, I still sort of feel a pang, like maybe I should have tried harder. Even though intellectually I know it’s ridiculous, that my kids are grown now and they don’t, you know, resent me for the toy explosion in the living room. But that feeling, that deep-seated worry that you’re not quite giving them the perfect childhood they deserve—it just sticks with you, I guess. Like a little splinter in your mind. You see those pictures now and a part of you still sort of flinches, thinking, “Yep, still not quite enough.” And it makes me wonder how many other moms out there are looking at those same pictures and feeling that same, like, private shame. It's just… a lot.