Ten years. That is how long I spent tilting my camera simply to crop out the pile of dirty gym socks in the corner. I have run a successful “mommy blog” for a decade, curating an image of a big family that functions like a well-oiled machine. My comment section is usually full of praise: “How do you do it?” “You are Superwoman!”
Here is the honest tidbit I never posted: I don’t do it. We are drowning. And if you have children, you probably are too.
Key Takeaways
The “Superwoman” facade is curated fiction. For ten years, I cropped out the mess to sell an image of precision and ease, but the reality behind the camera was that we were barely keeping our heads above water.
Experience is often confused with expertise. Having five children makes me an expert on stain removal, not child psychology, yet the parent-influencer economy dangerously positions bloggers as authorities to monetize insecurity.
Family privacy is a non-renewable resource. As children age, the “mommy blog” model moves from harmless venting to ethical gray areas, turning private family moments into content without the child’s consent.
True parenting involves raw, unpolished logistics. The “honest tidbits” of large families are endless laundry baskets, chaotic meals standing up, and a social circle that shrinks to those who can tolerate the noise.
It is time to lower the bar. Mental survival requires rejecting the aesthetic of the sterile home, embracing the chaos, and unfollowing accounts that make you feel like a failure for not being perfect.
Table of Contents
The Myth of the “Expert” Mom
We live in an era where experience is confused with expertise. Because I have five children (yes, five) and a Wi-Fi connection, the internet decided I was an authority on child-rearing. This is dangerous. I am not an expert in child psychology; I am an expert in getting grape juice out of a microbial carpet.
The pressure to monetize our lives forces bloggers to polish the rough edges until they shine. We trade vulnerability for virality. We sell you a vision of “hands-on parenting” that actually involves setting up a tripod, screaming at everyone to smile, and bribing a toddler with gummies to hold a wooden sensory toy he hates.
“The digital parenting space relies on insecurity,” says Elena Ross, a digital media sociologist. “If a creator admits they are barely holding it together, they lose authority. If they present perfection, they sell products. The audience pays the price in guilt.”
Privacy Is a Non-Renewable Resource
Running a blog about a large family inevitably leads to an ethical gray area regarding privacy. In the beginning, sharing anecdotes felt like venting to friends. Three years in, it felt like harvesting content.
We need to talk about the cost of turning our dining room tables into content studios. My children did not sign waivers when they were born. As they transition from toddlers to teenagers, the camera feels less like a documentation tool and more like surveillance.
Totally Honest Tidbits of Experience (No Filters Attached)
After 10 years of filtering the noise, here is the raw data. These are the Totally Honest Tidbits of Experience that usually get deleted from the final draft:
- The laundry never ends. You will never see the bottom of the hamper. If you have more than three people in your house, accept that clean clothes will live in baskets. Folding is a luxury for people with time.
- Dinner is rarely a communal event. The image of passing bowls of mashed potatoes around a farmhouse table is fiction. Start getting used to toddlers eating cold chicken nuggets while you stand at the counter eating leftovers off their plates.
- Silence is suspicious. If you have a big family and the house goes quiet, someone is either destroying property or in physical danger.
- You will lose friends. Not everyone wants to navigate the logistics of a seven-person entourage. Your social circle will shrink to the people willing to tolerate the noise level of a commercial airport terminal.
Stop Apologizing for the Mess
We need to stop worshiping the aesthetic of cleanliness. A sterile home with five kids is not an achievement; it is a sign of a mother on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
I am done apologizing for sticky countertops. I am done pretending that I bake bread from scratch when I actually buy it on sale at Costco. My track record creates a simple truth: The only way to survive a big family is to lower the bar until it touches the floor—and then step over it.
It is time to unfollow the accounts that make you feel like you are failing because you didn’t set up a sensory bin at 6 a.m. Unsubscribe from the newsletters promising to organize your life in 30 days.
Embrace the chaos. It is the only thing that’s real.
POLL: Be honest—have you ever cleaned a specific corner of your room just to take a photo for social media?
- Yes, I’m guilty.
- No, I post the mess.
- I don’t post my house at all.
Vote below and share this with a parent who needs to hear it. Tag us on Twitter/X with #HonestParenting.
