The other day I had to get an x-ray. As I was sitting in the waiting room, I noticed a mother coming in with her three boys. They looked to be about 10, 8, and 6. Soon she was called in, and left the boys alone.

Did bedlam break out? Did they start running around, bumping into people? Were they shouting and arguing over their toys? No. They sat there like perfect little adults, quietly waiting.

And I felt it. The creeping pinch of jealousy. Can I just say there is no way in the world I would have left my three young sons alone in a crowded waiting room? I tried to imagine her threatening them earlier, but she didn’t seem like a threatening mom. And she didn’t give them a parting, “You’d better remember what I said” glance.

Well, she must have bribed them, I decided. But they weren’t whispering in excited tones about the grand reward that was soon to be theirs.

Finally, I came to the inevitable conclusion that this woman is simply a better parent than I am. I envisioned her sons obeying her every word, helping one another all the time, and even surprising her with dinner already made on Thursdays.

Every parenting mistake I’ve ever made tromped across the stage of my mind. Moments when my kids went maniacal in public bounced into view. Having to take them out of Sacrament meeting EVERY WEEK for a year came to mind.

I recalled a woman once complimenting me on their amazing manners in the supermarket, and their howls of laughter for faking it and pulling off a prank, the minute she was out of sight.

One of the boys blew up our kitchen once. Twice, actually. Another one tried to film a movie for French class with his buddies, all of them dressed as gorillas with swords, in the rotunda of the state capitol, and state troopers had to intervene.

I dragged home, dejected and repentant, wishing I could have a do-over. And then I realized what was happening. Just like dominoes, Satan was setting up all my failures and knocking them down like those elaborate domino mazes you see online. It becomes Mominoes when he targets us with our parenting flaws.

I decided to read my gratitude notes about times when the kids were amazing. Compassionate. Obedient. Spiritual. Generous. Smart. (I kept a log of such moments when they were younger and I advise it to all mothers.)

I also prayed. When I stood up, I realized I am not a failure as a mother. You cannot compare someone’s fabulous moment with your worst one. God doesn’t do this, and neither should we. When we trip up, He wants to help us. He doesn’t mark it on our permanent record and mutter, “This is gonna cost you.”

I took a moment to remember that every one of us was born with Heavenly gifts. My kids might have gifts that hers lack. We are not always on the short end of the stick!

But Lucifer wants to block those tender memories with moments of shame and embarrassment. He wants to convince us we’re less-than, lousy, and losing the fight. I say, “Turn it on him! Show him who’s losing the fight.” When self-defeating thoughts come along, know who’s behind them and shove them out!

Maybe even have a mantra, something sweet your child once said to you, or a good feeling that wrapped you like a blanket one time, when you made the right parenting choice. Draw it around you as a protection from critical messages.

This last Mother’s Day one of my grown kids wrote this: “Your sense of humor, selflessness, unwavering support, and belief in me have shaped who I am in all the best ways. If I have any good qualities, I got them from you. Thank you for being the best mom anyone could ever hope for.” Am I framing that? You’d better believe it.

And what if you did make a thousand mistakes? Can you not repent and come back stronger? Of course you can! We are all able to grow and improve. God blesses us for every effort we make, and will help us in this most sacred calling, to bring up our children unto Him.

I’m not sure I’ve ever quoted Muhammed Ali in my lifetime, but here we go: “The man who views the world at 50 the same as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.”

We grow. We change. We are not the same person we used to be. Allow yourself to cast off the chains of the past, and know that God does the same for every person who changes. In fact, remember this about other people, too. The person you knew 20 years ago who did or said something awful/wrong/stupid is not that same person today. Show grace. Allow growth for both you and for others.

The next time someone’s child seems far more obedient or grown up than your child does, don’t get caught in the vortex of failure moments. Mominoes is Satan’s game. (And Satan-oes is even worse—look at what he’s done!)

Just hold your head high and remember who’s helping you and how much He wants your children to return. You are never alone in this task, and we aren’t here to compare and get depressed. Game over. You’ve won.

Joni Hilton is a Latter-day Saint author, Seminary teacher, and shares life hacks at https://m.youtube.com/c/jonihilton. Her novel, Golden, is now an Amazon audiobook.