There are days when I’m running on empty. The dishes are piled high, someone’s crying, and I can’t remember the last time I sat down or took a deep breath. I feel stretched thin—like I’ve given everything and there’s still more being asked. And in those moments, the pressure to be the “perfect” parent, the perfect everything, creeps in like a shadow.
But I’ve learned to pause and remind myself: I don’t need to get it all right. I don’t need to tick every box or be endlessly patient or always have the right words. What matters most is that I stay rooted in love. Even in the mess. Even when I’m tired. Especially when I’m tired.
Perfection is a trap. It disconnects us from what’s real. My children don’t need a flawless version of me—they need to feel my love through the chaos. Through the cereal on the floor and the undone to-do lists. Through the honest apologies and the quiet cuddles at the end of a long day.
Choosing love over perfection means I’m allowed to be human. It means I can show up messy and still be enough. It means I can say, “I’m sorry,” “I see you,” or simply, “Let’s try again tomorrow.” It’s not about having it all together—it’s about keeping the connection alive.
And that’s the heart of it: love isn’t always loud or polished. Sometimes, it’s just staying. Holding space. Offering a soft look when your voice can’t rise any higher. It’s what holds us steady when everything else feels shaky.
So no, I don’t choose perfection. I choose love—tired, real, messy, honest love. Every single time.