Expectations vs. Reality: Navigating the Mother You Have (Not the One from TV)

We’ve all seen her. The quintessential TV mom. She’s equal parts wisdom and warmth, always ready with a perfectly timed hug or a plate of cookies fresh from the oven. She’s the first person you’d call if your life fell apart because, clearly, she has all the answers and a casserole dish ready to go. For years, I carried that image in my head, believing that somewhere out there, my own mom was supposed to be this mythical, apron-wearing, all-knowing being who could fix my problems with a soft voice and a strong cup of tea.

Spoiler alert: that’s not how it played out.

Instead, I got a mom who’s a mix of quirks, contradictions, and, let’s be honest, a level of emotional unavailability that rivals a toaster oven. Sure, she’s funny and loving in her own way, but she’s not exactly out here channeling June Cleaver or doling out life lessons like Oprah. And for years—years—I kept expecting her to be someone she wasn’t.

It wasn’t until I stopped expecting my mom to live up to that sitcom standard that things got interesting.

The Myth of the TV Mom

The idea of the perfect mom is so ingrained in our culture that it feels less like a suggestion and more like a personal promise. She’s not just a parent; she’s your therapist, cheerleader, best friend, and emotional rock. She has time to bake brownies and listen to your existential crises without batting an eyelash.

But here’s the thing: TV moms aren’t real. They’re characters written by a room full of over-caffeinated screenwriters, not actual humans. (And even if they were real, can you imagine how exhausting it must be to keep up that level of perfection? Poor Carol Brady probably needed three glasses of wine just to get through dinner.)

The truth is, most moms—mine included—don’t fit neatly into that mold. They’re messy, imperfect, and dealing with their own stuff, just like the rest of us.

The Reality of My Mom

My mom wasn’t the warm, fuzzy type who’d sit me down  with a cup of tea for heart-to-heart talks about life’s mysteries. But she was the mom who showed up to every swim meet, clipboard in hand, meticulously recording my times from every single event. She didn’t just care—she cared deeply, often to the point of being overwhelming.

She loved me fiercely, but that love often came with an iron grip on my life. Failure wasn’t an option—not because I didn’t want to fail, but because she wouldn’t let me. She made sure I had straight A’s, stayed out of trouble, and followed every rule to the letter. If I so much as veered off course, her go-to punishment wasn’t grounding me—it was the ultimate threat: “No swim practice.” For a kid who lived and breathed the water, it was the most diabolical form of discipline imaginable.

Looking back, I know she meant well. She wanted the best for me and believed keeping me on the straight and narrow was the way to ensure my success. But in trying so hard to protect me from failure, she also took away my chance to learn from it. I grew up feeling like every decision was under a microscope, every mistake a catastrophe rather than a learning opportunity.

It was her way of showing love—making sure I never stumbled, never wavered, never risked falling. But as I’ve come to understand, sometimes love means stepping back and letting someone trip over their own two feet, trusting they’ll find their balance on their own.

For a long time, I tried to change her. I thought if I just explained what I needed—a little more emotional support, a little less unsolicited advice about my choice in boyfriends —she’d magically transform into the mom of my dreams. Spoiler alert: that didn’t happen.

Instead, I spent years feeling frustrated, hurt, and a little resentful. Why couldn’t she just be different? Why couldn’t she be… more?

The Turning Point

One day, it hit me: I was holding my mom to a standard she didn’t sign up for. I was judging her for not being someone she was never going to be. And the kicker? That wasn’t her fault—it was mine.

I’d been so busy expecting her to fill this imaginary role that I’d completely overlooked the person she actually was. The real her. The mom who loved me in her own, sometimes maddening, often hilarious way.

It was like trying to order sushi at a burger joint and getting mad when they handed me a cheeseburger. Sure, it wasn’t what I wanted, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t good in its own way.

Embracing the Mom You Have

When I stopped expecting my mom to be a Hallmark card come to life, something amazing happened. I started seeing her for who she really was.

I saw her quirks, her strengths, her flaws. I saw the ways she showed love that didn’t fit the typical mold—like sending me random newspaper comics she thought I’d enjoy or making me laugh with her wildly ridiculous sense of humor.

And I realized something else: she didn’t need to change. I did.

The Art of Letting Go

Letting go of those expectations wasn’t easy. It felt like grieving the mom I thought I was supposed to have. But it also felt like a weight being lifted. Once I stopped trying to change her, I had room to appreciate her.

Now, when she sends me a text asking if I’ve read the latest New York Times article about running a marathon without shoes, I laugh instead of rolling my eyes. When she critiques my lack of time spent playing my clarinet, I thank her for her unsolicited expertise and move on.

She’s still not perfect, and neither am I. But we’re learning to meet each other where we are—flaws, quirks, and all.

Closing Thoughts: The Mom You Need vs. The Mom You Want

Here’s the thing: your mom doesn’t have to be perfect to be enough. She doesn’t have to fit the TV stereotype or check every box on your list. She just has to be herself.

Once you let go of who you think she should be, you might be surprised by who she actually is. You might find love, humor, and connection in places you never thought to look—like a 6 a.m. text of a newspaper comic or an argument about my next big exciting hopes and dreams.

So here’s to the moms who don’t fit the mold and the kids learning to love them anyway. Life’s too short to wait for a perfect relationship when the imperfect one might just be exactly what you need.