I’m grateful for the good days, the so-so days, even the bad days because I’ve got my peeps to lean on. I’m grateful for the ability to laugh at what often seems like parenting insanity. I’m grateful for this fuzzy mama filter that lets me fondly remember years gone by – snuggly babies, tiny toddlers, little learners exploring the world around them with the fervor of mad scientists.

But today I’m grateful for knowing with 100% certainty that parenting is more important than being liked.

I don’t need other adults to like my parenting style. I’ve got both feet firmly planted and a partner in crime who collaborates with me.

I don’t need other kids to think I’m the cool mom, the funny mom, or the mom they wish they had. I’m okay with being the meanest mom ever, thanks.

And I surely don’t need my own kids to like me. Is it more pleasant when they do? Of course it is. But sometimes (often) they don’t care for me at all, and them’s the breaks. This isn’t a popularity contest, and accepting that has made parenting into the teen years the teensiest bit more bearable.