I am a B+ Mom, and Honestly, That is More Than Enough

by Razan Sadeq-Keyes

The other day, I was having coffee with another mom, which is basically like going on a date, but instead of flirting, you compare parenting styles and try to figure out if the other person is judging you.

We were discussing how challenging parenting has become these days. Not just the actual parenting, which is already relentless, but the sense that you are being graded on a test where the right answers keep changing, and the instructions were never very clear to begin with.

Apparently, you’re not supposed to say “good job” anymore, because it can make kids rely on external validation instead of building their own sense of pride. And you’re not supposed to say “You’re not being a good listener,” because it labels the child instead of addressing the behavior. You are supposed to validate, redirect, and regulate, usually before your first sip of coffee.

At some point, she said, “My mom set the bar really high,” and I realized, with a kind of unexpected relief, that this is not a problem I have.

No shade to my mom. Truly. She did something much harder than being incredible. She survived, and she made sure we did too.

My mother didn’t wear a hijab until she was 40. She asked me to edit this image with AI to cover her hair with a hijab.

The Mother I Had

After my dad was killed in a car accident when we were children, my mom raised the four of us alone. She got up at the crack of dawn to prepare breakfast, snacks, and dinner before leaving the house at 6:30 in the morning. She fed us well, protected us fiercely, and made sure we had a good education. She taught us useful life skills, like how to find quality clothes in a thrift store, how to bargain, how to clean tile grout properly, and how to cook real food from scratch.

At the same time, she’s never been the kind of mother who told you nice things or tried to understand who you are or who you were becoming. She is avoidant. Feelings are not discussed, and accountability is not exactly part of the program. Any attempt at feedback is treated like a personal attack, as if acknowledging harm would erase everything she has done for us.

She leaves a lot to be desired, and she is also the best mother she knows how to be.

She defied a conservative Arab culture to let me leave Jordan and move to Europe. She lent me money when I needed it, for my first car and for life during my master’s in Denmark. When I decided to marry a non-Muslim American man, which is very much haram for those who don’t know, she showed up anyway. To a grungy bar in Brooklyn. In a hijab. With a suitcase full of wedding gifts and favors.

She does not speak English, so she stood there gently trying to hand the favors to my drunk friends as they stumbled out at the end of the night.

So yes, she is complex. Like most of us are. Like most mothers have always been. And yet here we are, her daughters, now mothers ourselves, trying to figure out how to do things differently.

Modern Motherhood and the Pressure to Get It Right

Like many people in my generation, I have spent a solid decade in and out of therapy trying to understand what exactly is wrong with me. The answer seems to be nothing, and also some things, mostly rooted in my upbringing.

Which is maybe why so many of us are consuming parenting advice like it is oxygen. Books, podcasts, reels, courses, apps with tiny, digestible instructions on how not to ruin our children. We are terrified that one day our kids will tell a therapist, “It all started with my mother.” And in trying to prevent that, we have created a new problem: we are now the ones who are anxious, overwhelmed, and quietly unraveling, all while trying to appear calm and emotionally regulated at all times.

That tension is exhausting, and it makes parenting less fun than I’d like it to be. So I stopped trying to aim higher, and started doing the opposite.

Why I’m Lowering the Bar

I have managed to lower my standards in most parts of my life. I stopped trying to read all my Slack channels or emails years ago. I have accepted that my “ideal weight” is bullshit and that the last five pounds are not going anywhere. But motherhood feels different. It feels like the one place where it is not yet acceptable to say, “You know what, I am going to aim for a B+”. But that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Here is what that means to me. My children will be fed well, offered a few options even, but if my toddler refuses the food I give her, then too bad.

They will have nice, clean clothes. Some of their outfits might even match, for maximum cuteness. They will go to a safe, decent daycare. I will read to them regularly, but not religiously. I will pay attention to who they are and offer them opportunities to explore what they love.

But I am not going to turn my life into a full-time enrichment program. I am not going to spend every weekend engineering magical childhood memories. Sometimes they will play in the backyard. Sometimes they will watch Peppa Pig or Miss Rachel while I do laundry, or exercise, or scroll through online shopping for things I do not need. I am not going to treat every interaction as a developmental opportunity. Heck, I might even yell sometimes! And then I will apologize, because accountability actually matters.

In my totally biased opinion, this parenting style is not lazy. It takes more intention and energy to prioritize yourself as a parent and find pockets of time to care for yourself and your relationships.

Motherhood Is Part of Life, Not the Erasure of One

I am raising two daughters, and they are watching me. It is my responsibility not to abandon myself in the process of raising them. I want them to see that motherhood is part of life, not the erasure of one. If one day they become parents themselves, I want them to know that they are allowed to care for themselves, to take up space beyond their children, to go on a trip with friends without feeling guilty about it. I want them to know that loving your kids deeply does not require putting your personality and interests on pause.

I also want them to believe they can do better than me. Not because I failed, but because that is how this is supposed to work. Each generation takes what it was given, keeps what was good, and tries, imperfectly, to do the rest differently.

I am a B+ mom, and honestly, I think that is more than enough.

xoxo
Raz