I deliberately chose the painting by Mary Cassatt as an illustration because it serves as a cultural shorthand for the prevailing view of motherhood—more of a tender and loving calling than not, suffused with pastel colors, tints of calm. Of course, while there certainly are moments like these, mothering is a job, albeit one with ever-shifting requirements. That’s what makes it hard to do at times, and impossible to do perfectly. The very qualities that might have made you a candidate for World’s Best Mother when your child was a toddler—your vigilance, your organizational skills, your ability to exert control on chaos—may earn you an “F” at another stage of your daughter’s life. (I’m using “daughter” so as to avoid the switching of pronouns and because I’ve only raised a girl.)
