It’s actually tempting at times to believe we don’t matter. What a relief it would be to stop overanalyzing every decision and interaction. On the other hand, this is really hard emotional and physical work no matter what, and it’s demoralizing to feel like it’s for nothing.

Maybe we don’t even know anymore why we do it, year after year. It’s just what we do.

But what if we all worked together to take the bar down a few notches?

A widely circulated New York Times article trumpeted that yelling at our children means we are weak. It shamed parents. It misused research. I’m here to talk back to it, and to all the other voices making our jobs as parents harder every day.

I will tell you that based on my years working with dying, death, and grief in children, I almost always recommend that kids go to a funeral for a loved one. Here’s why and how.

In my years as a pediatric palliative care psychologist, I had hundreds of conversations about death with parents and children. It never got easier. I got better about knowing the words and what to expect, but I came to accept there was no way for this to feel like an “easy” or “good” conversation.

It’s not that I don’t think I should have corrected her behavior, it’s the way I FELT that bothered me: out of control and impulsive.

As cute as it is that his new slogan for everything is “I don’t love that,” it’s not cute when he throws a tantrum at the sight of his plate at every dinner.

I have felt a double whammy as a child psychologist acutely aware of the real trauma implications for these kids, and as a mom who can’t even bear the thought of forced separation from my children.

The best test of my progress in mindful parenting: “working” at home with a “sick” 3-year-old.

It is an emblem of our modern parenthood that these ways to parent would even elicit the word, “lazy.”

There is not a “right” or “wrong” way to grieve. My kids didn’t have to “act” sad to be sad. In fact, I think they were taking care of us on that day.

Being Mom is remembering all the things for all the people all the time. Being Mom is leaving our keys in the door and our wallet at the store.

Of course we are probably all dealing with overwhelming stress and high emotions at times, and may not fully think out what we impulsively type into the universe in the flash of a “post” click. But one of the comments I heard repeatedly was what makes a good group great is “assuming good intentions.”

10:07: Turn off my light and go to sleep.

11:22: Wake up to blood-curdling screams from the 3-year-old, who has instantaneously appeared in our room, like a horror film apparition.

In our world of news from remote towns that would never have reached the rest of us before the expanse of the internet, it can feel like threat and danger lurk on every street corner, no matter how insulated our particular street corner seems.

As a Mom, the common cold, flu, and stomach bugs take on a whole new meaning. They are totally disruptive to any semblance of routine, ruin any good sleep stretches, can add major work and financial stress, and if we get sick too, we can’t even wallow in it because most of us don’t have our Moms next door to take care of us.

My 8-year-old daughter has been asking us for a cell phone since she was five. Obviously, the answer “no” has been easy, but the harder question to answer is “when?”

In this America, the land of excess, it has insidiously crept up on us with each birthday, holiday, random shopping trip, and vacation. Now we have an attic full of toys, a playroom full of toys, a bedroom full of toys, and a basement full of toys. A life full of toys, and full of mess.

Meanwhile, other shoppers veer around and look at me with annoyed accusations in their stares – condemning me and my unruly children. I kind of want to disappear, and I kind of want to stand my ground and stare back with the message: “Hey! This is hard! We all make mistakes!”

Do you hear my voice?

Do you hear the words I am saying to you?

In the six years of having at least a 2-year-old in the house to get ready, I have pleaded with these very words in an infinite loop.