I’m Not a “Sit on the Floor and Play Pretend” Mom

I saw a post recently that said:

“I’m not a sit on the floor and play kind of mom.
I’m a let’s get our shoes on and go do something mom.”

And I felt that in my bones. I love my kids. I love engaging with them. I genuinely enjoy spending time with them.

But sitting on the floor playing pretend; dolls, characters, Bluey house, imaginary rules on a loop… is really, really hard for me. And for a long time, I thought that meant something was wrong. That I was a bad mom. Or that I was somehow bad at play.

The part that confused me

What made this harder to understand was that I do sit on the floor sometimes. In fact, the other night, at a New Year’s Eve party, I spent a good chunk of the night on the floor, happily, playing “night night” with a baby. We sat up. We laid down. Every time we laid down, we said “night night.” Over and over.

I also did a dance party with that same baby instead of mingling with the grown-ups. And here’s the thing: none of that felt hard.

I wasn’t itching to escape. I wasn’t watching the clock. I wasn’t forcing myself to stay present. Which left me wondering: why did that feel fine… while pretend play felt so difficult.

Let me be clear about something important

I still play pretend. We play restaurant, Barbies, dolls, and Bluey House. It’s not that I don’t do it. It’s that it takes so much more effort for me to lock in to those kinds of games. It doesn’t come naturally. It doesn’t refill me. It costs more and that distinction matters.

Imaginative pretend play asks me to stay mentally “on,” narrate and role-play, follow imaginary rules that constantly change, and sit still while doing it. My brain and body don’t love that combination.

But play that includes movement, rhythm, repetition, structure, or physical connection? That works for me. That’s why “night night” on repeat felt fine.
That’s why a dance party felt fun.

This isn’t about effort or love. It’s about wiring. Even knowing this, the guilt still sneaks in. My brain gets loud and judgmental.

They want connection. Pretend play is important. Other moms seem to do this so easily. Why can’t I just do it like they do?

I beat myself up for not fitting the version of an “engaged mom” I think I’m supposed to be and I have to remind myself, over and over, that connection doesn’t have one look.

Moms have temperaments too (we forget this)

If you are playing with your kids, you are a good mom. Even if it takes more effort, if that one activity feels like climbing Mount Everest. Even if you’d rather be sitting on the couch drinking hot coffee and reading your book and you choose to sit on the floor anyway because you know it matters to them.

You are still a good mom.

You are engaging with your child and building connect and that is the part that matters. Play doesn’t have to look perfect. We talk all the time about kids having different personalities, needs, and nervous systems but moms have those too. Some parents genuinely love imaginative floor play. They get lost in it. It fills them up. Others connect better through movement, building, going somewhere, or structured activities.

Neither is better. Neither is more loving. It’s just different and effort matters. Showing up for something that doesn’t come naturally, choosing connection even when it costs you more, counts. A lot. Good parenting isn’t about loving every part of parenting.

It’s about showing up honestly, giving what you have, and also giving yourself permission to offer connection in ways that fit you.

If you’re not a “pretend play” mom either

You’re not cold. You’re not checked out. You’re not failing your kids. You’re a parent with preferences, limits, and a nervous system of your own. Your kids don’t need you to play exactly like someone else’s mom. They need you present in ways you can actually sustain.

I’m still working through the guilt, still catching the comparison, but I’m holding onto this:

Some parts of parenting come easily, some don’t. Doing the hard parts anyway, in ways you can actually sustain, is not a failure. It’s real parenting.

So sit on the floor. Play night night. Have a dance party. Get outside. Your kids want you and your connection.

Sometimes that means pushing yourself and sometimes it means giving yourself grace in the middle of it.

I’m right here, cheering you on.