Somewhere between warming up leftover coffee for the third time and scrolling past a color-coded lunchbox on Instagram, I caught myself thinking: “Am I falling behind?”
I wasn’t exactly sure who I was trying to keep up with. Maybe it was the mom on Pinterest who meal preps a week’s worth of organic snacks in one nap window. Or the influencer who glides through her day in linen pants and perfect lighting. Or maybe it was just the general hum of online motherhood that can start to sound like a quiet whisper: do more, be better, look like this.
The truth is, I didn’t decide to stop comparing myself all at once. It came slowly, like most honest things do. It happened in quiet moments—in the middle of folding laundry, watching my child play in the dirt, or realizing I felt more peace on days I spent offline. Over time, I learned to notice the gap between what’s shared and what’s lived. I realized the idea of a “super mom” isn’t only unrealistic—it’s often rooted in performance, not presence.
This isn’t a guide to perfect self-acceptance (because I don’t have that either). It’s simply a conversation I wish we had more often. One that says: you’re already doing enough, even when it looks different than what you see on the screen.
The Invisible Pressure of Picture-Perfect Parenting
Comparison isn’t a modern issue. But social media has magnified it in ways we’re only beginning to understand. Before, comparison might have shown up at the playground or school pickup line—now it lives in our pockets, 24/7. And it’s curated.
Many platforms reward the highlight reel: the birthday party with handmade decorations, the child playing quietly while their mom journals with a matcha latte nearby. These images aren't wrong. But they’re rarely the whole picture. And when viewed repeatedly, they can shape the stories we tell ourselves about what motherhood should look like.
A study found that frequent exposure to idealized portrayals of motherhood on social media correlates with increased feelings of inadequacy and “maternal guilt,” particularly in new mothers. It’s not just that we compare—it’s that we do it with a version of reality that’s often styled, filtered, and staged.
The Myth of the “Super Mom” (and Why We Keep Chasing Her)
The Super Mom isn’t one person. She’s a compilation. Maybe she’s efficient and patient, perfectly dressed, running a business, packing bento lunches, with a spotless kitchen and children who nap on schedule. She’s the quiet expectation many of us carry—even if we know it’s not real.
She shows up in different ways:
- When we feel behind because our toddler had a screen-heavy day
- When we wonder if we’re doing enough learning activities
- When we feel guilt for not loving every second of motherhood
- When we question our value if the house isn’t tidy or the meals aren’t homemade
It’s important to say out loud: this image isn’t something we need to become. And chasing it often pulls us further from the real, grounded version of motherhood most of us are living—and doing well.
What I Noticed When I Took a Step Back
When I stopped treating social media as a benchmark and started treating it as background noise, a few things shifted. I noticed I had more capacity to hear myself—not the endless comparisons or perceived shortcomings.
Here’s what began to feel truer:
- My kids don’t need an aesthetic life. They need eye contact, attunement, and my presence.
- The days that look “messy” are often the most honest. The ones with cereal for dinner, or toys everywhere by 9 AM—those hold a real kind of magic.
- When I’m grounded in my values, I don’t need external approval. I don’t need to share every craft, meal, or milestone to feel seen.
I didn’t stop admiring other moms. I just stopped assuming their strengths meant something was missing in me. We can appreciate someone else’s rhythm without erasing our own.
What Comparison Actually Does to Us
The emotional effects of comparison aren’t just personal—they’re biological. We’re wired for social belonging, so when we perceive ourselves as “less than,” the body may interpret that as a form of social risk. It’s subtle, but it’s real.
And while a little comparison can be motivating, constant comparison tends to do the opposite. It can:
- Increase stress hormone levels (cortisol)
- Erode self-esteem over time
- Contribute to burnout and decision fatigue
- Make us more reactive or emotionally unavailable with our kids
When you pair that with the fact that the average adult spends over 2 hours per day on social media, the impact starts to feel less like a “bad habit” and more like something worth rethinking for the sake of our well-being.
It’s Not Just the Content—It’s the Context
What helps isn’t just unfollowing accounts that make us feel “less than” (though that’s part of it). It’s also contextualizing what we see.
For example:
- A mom posting daily lunchbox pics may find joy in food styling—but she may also feel pressure to perform.
- The family traveling every school break may be navigating financial strain, marital challenges, or burnout behind the scenes.
- The mama running her own business may also be struggling with childcare, identity shifts, or chronic overwhelm.
We never see the full picture. That’s why it’s helpful to ground ourselves in our own context. Our own values. Our own bandwidth. What works for one mom may not be right—or even possible—for another. That doesn’t make it wrong. It just makes it personal.
A Note on Self-Compassion (It’s Not Just a Buzzword)
It’s easy to tell ourselves to “just be kind to ourselves,” but self-compassion isn’t always instinctive—especially if we were raised to equate worth with productivity or appearance. But it is learnable.
According to Dr. Kristin Neff, a pioneer in self-compassion research, practicing self-compassion includes three components:
- Mindfulness – Noticing your struggle without exaggerating or ignoring it
- Common Humanity – Remembering you’re not alone; every mom questions herself
- Self-Kindness – Speaking to yourself the way you would a dear friend
When I started practicing this in real-time—during meltdowns, messes, and imperfect days—I didn’t magically feel amazing. But I did feel more okay. More grounded. More human.
Gentle Rhythms
- Let social media serve you—not the other way around. Curate your feed like you would a playlist: only keep what nourishes you.
- Replace “What am I doing wrong?” with “What season am I in?” Context shifts everything.
- Try journaling what your version of a beautiful life looks like—off-screen, off-trend.
- Give yourself permission to do things your way, even if they’re not photogenic.
- Remember: your child won’t remember how the house looked—they’ll remember how they felt around you.
Letting Go of “Her” and Returning to Me
I used to think that motherhood had a scorecard—that there was a way to earn gold stars if I just tried hard enough. But the longer I’ve been in this, the more I believe that motherhood isn’t a competition. It’s a conversation. It’s not about how much you do—it’s how much you notice. How much you choose to be present, to love in small moments, to trust that what you offer is already enough.
Letting go of the “Super Mom” fantasy didn’t mean I stopped growing or caring. It meant I stopped pretending and started honoring. Honoring my values, my pace, my family’s rhythm.
You don’t have to be her. You just have to be you. The version of you your child already believes in. The one they run to with sticky fingers and wide eyes. The one who shows up—imperfectly, honestly, beautifully—as their mama.
And that? That’s more than enough.
