As a mom and start-up founder building tech to reduce the mental load of modern parenting, I have been thinking a lot about expectations – how did the expectations for modern parenting (and especially mom-ing) become so high? Am I uniquely bad at managing and keeping track of all the school, camp, extra-curricular and social calendars and to-dos? Is it possible to be “good” at work and at home?
For generations, “good mothering” was measured by spotless kitchens, perfect Bento lunches, and an uncanny ability to remember every field‑trip deadline without breaking a sweat. Each decade since the 1950s has introduced a new set of expectations about motherhood without lifting the old ones. We are expected to nurture, work, home-make and enrich – and to get an “A” in every category.
But perfection has a price: burnout, resentment, and a loneliness that hides in plain sight.
Over the past month I sat with dozens of mothers – from startup CEOs, nonprofit leaders, first‑time moms, to moms of multiples – from our Ava community. I asked each woman the same question:
“What expectation did you finally break, and how did it feel?”
Their answers form a manifesto. Seven permission slips for anyone who has ever felt crushed beneath the invisible load of parenting.
1. Choose “good enough” over “magazine perfect.”
“My home doesn’t need to look magazine‑perfect. There are four other people who live here.”
Danielle, a mom of three, shelved her Pinterest‑ready living‑room dream so she could finish two novels and schedule her own doctor’s appointment, a trade she calls “liberating.”
2. Outsource the chores you hate (without apology).
“I hired cleaners for the first time. Yes, I felt a pang of guilt…but mostly I felt air in my lungs.”
Emily’s revelation? The cost of help was cheaper than the cost of constant self‑criticism.
3. Let kids practice imperfection, too. It builds resilience.
“They’re terrible at unloading the dishwasher, but guess what? They learn resilience, and I gain ten quiet minutes.”
Jeni, mother of three, now treats chores as life‑skills training, not proof of her domestic competence.
4. Turn comparison into blinders.
“Those kids didn’t look happier; actually, sometimes they looked stressed because mom was stressed.”
“I stopped following the rule that I had to do it the way other people do it—it felt freeing, it felt like me.”
Scrolling other families’ highlight reels? Kara simply stopped. “I pick where to lean in, and I ignore the rest.”
5. Schedule partnership, not politeness.
Felicity and her spouse split mornings and evenings on alternating days:
“It killed the blame game overnight, and the house kept running.”
Explicit calendars beat unspoken expectations.
6. Ask for help early and often – and then accept it!
“I had to remind myself that being a good mom didn’t mean doing everything alone. Once I started letting my partner take over bedtime, even if it wasn’t ‘my way,’ everything felt lighter.”
Whether that help is a neighbor holding the baby while you shower or a teenage sitter giving you 30 minutes of quiet, accepting support is not a weakness, it’s strategy.
7. Find tech that creates space, not more noise.
Moms told me that WhatsApp threads, Facebook groups, Instagram and TikTok advice can sometimes help but also overwhelm.
That’s why Ava’s design principle is simple: automation should lead to real‑life relief—automatically putting days off from school on your calendar, auto‑filling camp forms, syncing carpools, surfacing a nearby “mom mentor.” Tech never replaces connection; it protects it.
Why These Permissions Matter
When women trade spotless floors for sanity, or swap lone‑wolf heroics for shared labor, they unlock something bigger than efficiency: a fly-wheel of grace. One mom’s decision to skip elaborate goodie‑bags gives another mom permission to ditch them, too. Seeing models of moms giving themselves a break and learning the artful skill of delegation helps all of us. The load lightens, conversation deepens, and everyone breathes easier.
This embodies the movement that we are building at Ava alongside these mothers. Ava is an AI-powered “Chief Household Officer” designed to reduce the invisible labor of parenting. Ava takes entire admin and logistics tasks off your plate (everything from filling out camp forms and remembering soccer field locations to managing grocery lists and RSVPs) so you can spend more time being with your family, not just managing them.
Perfection isn’t the end-game. We are focused on protection of our most important assets – our time, our energy, and our connection to the people we love.
So here’s your signed permission slip, delivered with love: rip up one impossible rule this week and watch what grows in the space you reclaim.
Ready to add your own rule to the manifesto, or just want a little less on your plate? Join the conversation!
