As a parent, it is so easy to compare ourselves to our perceptions of our friends’ parenting experiences. There have been times when I also compared the successes (or lack thereof) of my children with those of my friends’ children. Not my best moments, but we all do it.

Obviously, social media has made this a bigger problem than it would have been for our mothers; rather than just comparing myself or my kids to my neighbors or coworkers, I can, with a few minutes of scrolling, compare myself to dozens of people I don’t even know very well, let alone want to emulate. This is a recipe for disaster.

There were entire years, when my girls were teenagers, when I seriously thought I had lost the battle and that nothing I was saying or doing was making any impact. I looked ahead to their adult years, and thought predicted that my daughters would never not need me to hold their hand and figure things out for them. As you can imagine, this led me to some pretty significant pity-parties. It was times like these that I wished I was able to make a decent cocktail.

But this week, my oldest daughter – admittedly, the one who gave me the most sleepless nights and caused the most teeth-gnashing and Universe-cursing – posted something to social media that wiped an entire decade of worry right off the table. Seems appropriate to share it on this day. Thanksgiving eve, and my late mother’s birthday. Miss you mom. I know you’re fist-pumping right along with me.

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