No, Actually, You Don’t Have To Do It All
Raise your hand if you’ve ever hidden in the bathroom for five extra minutes just to breathe. Guess what? That doesn’t make you a monster, a failure, or whatever Pinterest-flavored parenting nonsense is rattling around in your brain. It makes you human—probably exhausted, and definitely over the whole unicorn-parent fantasy we’ve been force-fed since birth.
You’re Allowed To Suck At This Sometimes
If you’ve ever thought, “I love my kids, but holy shit, I’d pay good money for just one hour of not being touched or needed,” congrats—you’re in the club. We’re serving juice boxes for breakfast and five-minute zones of silence in the coat closet. You can’t burnout-proof yourself with organic snack prep and relentless enthusiasm. Sometimes the bare minimum is the only minimum that exists.
No Medals For Martyrdom
I don’t care if your neighbor is planning themed playdates with hand-sewn costumes. Real life does not hand out glittering trophies because you burned yourself to a crisp “giving your all.” If your version of “all” today is letting the iPad do the heavy lifting while you eat a cookie in the laundry room? You fucking nailed it. Parenting is a long-haul situation—not a flawless sprint where gold stars rain down just because you did oatmeal faces at breakfast.
Guilt Is Bullshit, And You Don’t Have To Listen
The whole parental guilt machine is just capitalism and Instagram making money off your anxiety. Your kid will turn out fine if you phone it in now and then. Truly. There is actual science behind the fact that kids benefit from seeing their adults as human. You are not a robot, and holy hell, no one wants you to pretend to be one. So unplug the guilt. Flip it the bird. The world keeps spinning if you’re just “okay” sometimes. Actually, that’s probably healthy as hell for everyone involved.
This Is The Reprieve—Take A Damn Breath
If you’ve been waiting for someone to say it’s totally normal to not want to play Barbies again, or to look at the clock and count hours until bedtime—well, here it is. Permission delivery, signed, sealed, fuck-it-ed. You don’t need to do penance for needing time alone or choosing peace over playdough. Relief is available right now, no package deal or emotional labor required. I promise, you’re allowed to feel tired, bored, annoyed, and wildly in love with your spawn, all at once.
Parenting is hard, boring, beautiful, and sometimes so fucking tedious you dream about running away to Target for the rest of your life. You’re allowed all of it. Shut the guilt down and consider this your official pass to lay off yourself for the weekend.
P.S. If you’re reading this while hiding from your family, know you’re in the finest of company. We’ve got snacks, memes, and zero judgment.
The Potty Mouth Panda 