Before our son was born, my husband and I had all these grand ideas about how we would raise him.
He was going to be exclusively breastfed, no screen-time, only given sustainable, wooden toys, eat only organic, homemade food and sleep in his own bed every night.
As a new parent-to-be, my false sense of confidence was buoyed by the hundreds of "mummy influencers" on social media.
Every photo I came across I would see their impeccable homes with pristine, white throw rugs and coffee tables adorned with a crystal vase full of fresh flowers and a stack of carefully fanned out magazines.
In the centre of the photo would be their perfectly well-behaved child in cloth nappies playing with monochrome blocks or smiling placidly at the camera.
They made it look so easy I was sure I could be just like them.
I've said it before, I'll say it again - oh how naive I was.
We started out "well". We had the wooden play gym and in our tired, love-filled haze, the TV was never on. I was persevering through eight-hour cluster feeds and always put him down in his bassinet, even if it meant getting up again 40 minutes later.
But as time went on and we got into the groove of parenthood, our resolve slowly ebbed away.
Our son was not interested in floor time until my parents brought down a colourful, singing play gym, and suddenly he would spend hours on the floor.
Since then, my criteria for his toys have been, does it have lights and sound? Is it colourful? And potentially the most important thing, will it withstand his dribble and spilling?
Around the same time, we started introducing formula for one bottle a day and he became a totally different baby. Within a few weeks, I had stopped breastfeeding completely.
Then I went back to work and all our preconceived notions of what made good parents went out the window.
Working from home during lockdown didn't help either. On the days we were both working, our babysitter was The Wiggles.
Basically, if our boy was fed, watered and clothed, we'd high-five and sleep soundly that night.
Now that he's eating three meals a day plus snacks, I have also turned my back on my "only homemade" promise and have a stash of pre-made Watties pouches for those nights when an overtired baby coincides with a long day at work.
Even though I stand by every decision we've made so far, I still get that guilty feeling creeping up whenever I see a perfectly-poised post by one of those mummy influencers.
Sitting there in my puke-stained hoodie, having just given my son spaghetti bolognese from a jar, I question whether I'm failing as a mum.
Then I think back to our day. We played tickle monster and he was in fits of laughter, we threw sticks for the dog and got lots of sloppy kisses in return, we discovered the texture of mud and got to enjoy a midday bath as a result.
Sure, my carpet is in desperate need of a clean, magazines will get ripped and chewed if left unattended and anything not nailed down has had to be taken out of the lounge.
But we have fun, we laugh and we don't take anything too seriously.
The notion of being the perfect parent is not new but never before have we had it thrust in our faces so aggressively through social media.
There's nothing wrong with striving to be better and using social media as a motivator but when the constant pressure makes great parents feel like failures, we need to step back and have a bit of perspective.
Every social media post is a snapshot. It's staged, set up to show a particular angle and most importantly, it only ever shows the good times, never the tantrums, teething or sleepless nights.
I now know we will never live up to the picture-perfect parents social media tells us we should be but as long as our son goes to sleep every night knowing he's loved, I no longer care.