By now, “mommy wars” has become a household phrase. We all know the battles and opposing sides: working mom vs. stay-at-home mom, breastfeeding mom vs. bottle-feeding mom, attachment vs. free-range … the list goes on. We’ve all taken our various sides and have our own personal battle scars from living with our choices and facing the upturned noses of those who chose differently. And the Internet, bless its soul, has helped us dig in our heels, wage ugly words, and fire judgmental accusations against each other at lightening speed.

But I’m kind of over that. And I think (hope) that while these wars will surely always boil under the surface, there’s a new movement to band together and accept each other’s choices, and just know that we all do the best we can, and what’s best for our own individual families. With any luck the wars will soon get a downgrade to something more like … spats. Can I get an Amen?

So the mommy wars aren’t what get me riled up these days. No, it’s something a little more tricky to put your finger on, something that masks itself as a positive thing but leaves you feeling just as icky. In honor of the upcoming festivities this week, I’m going to call it the Mommy Olympics. The all-out, fierce, no-holds-barred competition of who can out-do, out-shine, out-perform the other--a race to the finish of earning that gold medal of parenting (if only it existed!). Official sponsor: social media. Leaving the rest of us–please say it isn’t just me--with only feelings of inadequacy.