One thing I had to let go of, as a Type A mom, was that things were not going to get done perfectly if I included my children in the process. Actually, things were never going to get done perfectly, even if I did them all myself, because, as a parent, it was hard to give my full focus to any one task for more than a few minutes. Someone always needed something: a dropped bottle, a fresh diaper, or a hug when waking up in the dark of the night.

But taking care of a home for our family of four, without having all four of us sharing the responsibility, is not a sustainable lifestyle for me (especially since my husband and I both work full time). We had to accept “help” from our kids. Do I re-wash the dishes they clean? Yes. Is their method of putting toys away the same as mine? No. But over time I have accepted that it is more important to place value on their independence than on my floor being spotless… which it will never be until they permanently move out.

Children are curious, and that’s a wonderful thing. But they are curious all day and to the tune of an endless barrage of questions. Even when I know the answers I am too spent to launch into them.

But I’d rather my kids remain curious and keep questioning their world than not engage their brain. I love seeing their minds at work only slightly more than I love those few moments of silence I get when they happen not to be asking me something (or asking me for something).

My husband and I both work in creative capacities, writing and producing commercials. So I love seeing my kids engage in creative play. But must it involve tiny sharp Legos, and must they never get put away because whatever it is being built is not done yet?

Just because it’s convenient for me doesn’t mean my child would actually like to have a play date with a kid whose mom I am friends with. When my children were babies and toddlers, I’d have “playdates” which were thinly veiled attempts for me to get some adult social interaction, so I would decide who my kids got to play with, based on who their parents were.

Now that my children are school-aged they want to choose who to hang out with, and I can’t blame them, even though they don’t make my life any easier by wanting to play with kids they know two neighborhoods away.

My son eats cucumbers. My daughter eats red peppers. And that is the extent of their vegetable palate. It’s annoying that they don’t enjoy a wider variety of veggies, but at least they’re eating some kind of colorful, healthy thing.

All kids want is to gain independence. And that is all I, as a parent, want, too. Except when that independence means everything takes twice as along and causes twice the chaos. But by all means, my sweet 2-year-old, please put your shoes on yourself. We probably don’t need to be anywhere for about five hours, so we should just make it.

It’s so frustrating to let my kids do things themselves, but I have to let them. I don’t want them to go out in the world not being able to feel confident in their abilities. Or worse, expecting everyone else to take care of them.

One minute they want to cook three-course meals themselves, and the next they’re yelling at me to wipe their butts. Toggling between those two extreme settings tries my patience.

Breastfeeding both kids for over two years each really made me feel touched out. Combine that with the fact that I commute on the jam-packed subway to and from work every day, and all I crave as a human mom is personal space. I never seem to get it, though. And as much as it annoys me that my kids can’t resist barging in on me when I’m in the bathroom, I can’t say I hate it when they melt into me during story time and fortify me after a long day with endless rounds of hugs.

Check out Romper's new video series, Bearing The Motherload, where disagreeing parents from different sides of an issue sit down with a mediator and talk about how to support (and not judge) each other’s parenting perspectives. New episodes air Mondays on Facebook.