What Makes a Good Mother
As Mother’s Day approaches, I’m reminded of an article I recently read in The New Yorker: “What Makes a Good Mother: We keep revising the maternal ideal – and keep falling short of it.”
It made me reflect on how the stories we tell about mothers – and the expectations we place on them – have always been a bit … ambitious.
The idea of a “good mother” has always been a moving target: from the 1950s sitcom mom vacuuming in pearls and kitten heels, to the 1980s supermom who could “bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan,” to today’s influencer mom, who is somehow homeschooling, baking sourdough from her own starter, and running a six-figure business – all while looking like a beauty queen.
The common thread? None of them are real. They are all impossible ideals.
When we look at our own families, though, we see something far more grounded: the many forms motherhood takes, often shaped as much by circumstance as by choice.
My own understanding of motherhood begins a generation before me, with my mother. She was raised by her grandmother while her single mother worked long hours in a Detroit factory. Every paycheck my grandmother earned was shared – sent home to support her two children.
She didn’t have an easy life. But even as a child, I felt her love and strength long before I understood the depth of her sacrifice. “Granny B” carried herself with elegance and dignity, despite her humble means. Her devotion to her family was unmistakable – and it gave her life purpose.
Perhaps because of that upbringing, my mother’s dream was beautifully simple: to raise a family of her own. And she did just that. She and my father shared a happy marriage of more than 50 years, raising four children together. Today, she is adored by six grandchildren and five great-grandchildren – who, I suspect, would all agree she set the bar very high for the rest of us.
Her success was never measured in titles or accolades, but in love, constancy and the enduring bonds she built over a lifetime.
Motherhood looked a little different for me. Before having children, I had a demanding, travel-heavy career. I knew I couldn’t sustain that pace and be the kind of present parent I wanted to be – at least not without cloning myself, which (unfortunately) wasn’t an option.
So I stepped away, finding a balance between staying home and working part-time, mostly freelancing – so I could be there for field trips, T-ball games and bedtime stories.
This was during the height of the so-called “Mommy Wars,” when headlines hyped a heated battle of judgements between working moms and stay-at-home moms. But I never saw it. Among the women in my life, there was no war – just a shared understanding that we were all doing our best, juggling a lot, and more often than not, helping each other along the way.
What I know now is this: there is no single right way to be a mother.
But there is something that has sustained good mothers across generations – and that is community.
Neighbors who swap carpools and playdates. Teachers who care deeply about our children. Friends who drop off a meal when we’re sick or share an honest conversation over a glass of wine. These people all around us form the invisible scaffolding that makes parenting possible.
Motherhood, I’ve learned, is rarely a solo endeavor – even when it feels that way at 2 a.m.
Here in Orinda, that spirit of shared care is part of who we are. We see it in the volunteers who support our civic programs, the parents who show up for our schools, and the countless small ways neighbors look out for one another.
This May, we celebrate mothers of every kind – biological, adoptive, foster, stepmothers, grandmothers, and all who nurture and care. Motherhood may not look the same for everyone, but the commitment to love, to show up, and to keep going – imperfectly, yet persistently – is what truly matters.
Wishing you a joyful Mother’s Day and a beautiful spring.