A New Year’s Letter to My Daughters | Letting Go of Perfection

My sweet girls,

I’m sitting here on the very first day of the new year, trying to get a little bit of work done while you run around the house playing with your new toys. There’s laughing and yelling and arguing and stretches of deep make-believe that completely take over the living room and also make me smile. The house is already loud, chaotic, and very much alive before 8am.

And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The holidays just ended, and I can already feel myself missing them. I love this time of year so much. I love the magic of it. The anticipation, the traditions, the way everything feels fuller and more meaningful. Being able to create that magic for you is wonderful and exhausting. My mental load was maxed out for weeks. The planning, the remembering, the organizing, the emotions, the schedules, the expectations. There were moments when I felt completely drained.

But sitting here right now, watching you play, it all feels so worth it.

We ended this year with both joy and heartbreak. We lost a very special family member, and that loss is heavy on my heart these days. It’s changed my perspective in ways I’m still processing. It’s made me more grateful for what we have right now, for ordinary mornings like this one, and for the simple fact that we are all here together.

I hope when you read this someday, you’ll know just how blessed I feel to be your mom, especially in this season of life. I feel honored to give you a holiday filled with family, new toys, special experiences, time together, and memories I hope stay with you long after the details fade. I hope you remember feeling loved and safe, even if you don’t remember every little gift.

Being a teacher is really challenging. It takes a lot out of me during the school year. But having these long breaks home with you is one of the greatest gifts of my life. I cherish this time in a way that’s hard to explain. The slow mornings, the nowhere-to-be days, the chance to just be together without rushing.

Today, on this first day of the year, we are attempting potty training for the third time. We’re baking cookies. We’re destroying the house. We’re having kitchen dance parties. And somehow, in all of that chaos, it feels like the most perfect way to begin again.

This year, my word is breakthrough.

A big part of that word is about my personal goals, my business, and taking better care of myself. But another big part of it is about motherhood, too.

I am not perfect. Not even close. And even though I know that no parent is, I still carry a lot of guilt. I compare myself to other moms. I notice the things I think I should be doing better, more patiently, more calmly, more effortlessly. I spend too much time wishing I was someone else instead of trusting the mom (and person) I already am.

So this year, my breakthrough is in my mindset.

I’m working toward letting go of the idea that I need to be someone I’m not in order to be a good mom. I’m learning to accept that I am doing a good job, even on the days it doesn’t feel like it. I’m reminding myself that perfection is not what builds a childhood worth remembering.

You are loved. You are happy. You are safe. You laugh loudly. You feel secure enough to fight, make up, imagine wildly, and be fully yourselves. And that tells me far more about the kind of mom I am than any perfectly organized and clean house ever could.

If you read this one day and wonder if I doubted myself as a mom, I did. A lot. But I hope what you remember is how much I loved you, and how I kept trying to show myself the same compassion I want you to grow up showing yourselves.

Being your mom is my greatest privilege. And if there’s a breakthrough I’m always working toward, it’s learning to trust that this love, this effort, and this very imperfect presence are enough.

I love you more than you know and I am excited for the year ahead of us. May it bring many lessons and lots of growth for us all.

Love,

Mom