Dear Exhausted Mom: You’re Doing Enough

Once, I saw a video of a so-called psychologist who said she felt like slapping some parents when she saw them let their kids use tablets or phones at restaurants.
I couldn’t help but think: What am I supposed to do if I have small kids and just want to feel like a human being again? To sit at a restaurant, enjoy a nice meal and a peaceful atmosphere instead of being surrounded by a messy house and the smell of pee or spilled baby milk?

Any parent knows restaurants can feel like a waste of money—because at any moment, your child might throw a tantrum simply because you peeled a banana the “wrong” way.

So what am I supposed to do to stay sane, without a phone?

Some people say, “Our mothers raised kids without phones, so we can too.”
But when my mom gave birth to me, my brother, and my sister, she wasn’t alone. She had her sisters, cousins, parents, uncles, aunts—an entire village living nearby. People brought her food, took the kids to their house, or just came over to sit and talk while keeping an eye on us.

And my mom didn’t work. My father provided financially, and life was simple. My grandparents had everything they needed in their backyard: chickens, cows, pigs, and a whole garden full of vegetables and fruit trees.

But now, things have changed.

We survive as nuclear families. Grandmothers don’t think like their mothers did. Everyone wants to live their own life—travel, explore the world, do all the things they never had the chance to do before. I think that’s beautiful.
But it also means our generation is struggling—quietly—while raising children mostly on our own.

I now have to work like a single woman, cook healthy meals every day, take the kids to after-school activities, be emotionally present, and constantly see social media posts reminding me of all the other “super moms” who seem to do it all and still look amazing.

One day, after 8 exhausting hours of work, I took my kids to an indoor playground. I sat in a corner with my back against the wall and whispered in my head:
“Thank you, government, for building this place. My kids can play, and I can sit down for just a few minutes and recharge.”

Some days, I manage to take them to the playground. But on rainy winter days, when everything is wet and cold, we go straight home. I turn on a cartoon so I can rest for 30 minutes, cook dinner, give them a bath, clean up, and get them to bed.

And yes—on those days, I tell myself, “I’m not the best mom today.”
But I’d rather let them watch some creative kids’ content than force myself to “be present” while my patience is gone and risk yelling at them—saying things I’ll regret.

I live near an Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. Every time I see a woman walking down the street followed by six or seven kids of her own, I’m amazed.
But then I remember—they have each other. They live in close-knit communities. The older siblings help care for the younger ones. They don’t have smartphones, not because of discipline, but because of deep religious values.
But they do have a village.

So to all the moms out there:
You’re doing a great job.
You made the brave decision to bring a new human into this world, and you’re doing the best you can while navigating life—often alone.
Yes, many of us are married, but let’s be honest… it still feels like being a single mom in the marriage sometimes.

Don’t feel guilty if you give your child a phone just so you can breathe.
You’re not lazy. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re human.

Don’t let the “perfect moms” on Instagram make you feel less than.

And at the end of the day, when your child hugs you and whispers, “I love you, Mom,”
take a moment to hug yourself, too.

You’re doing enough.
And you’re doing beautifully.