Taking the Hard Way Down

Yesterday my best friend said to me, "Don't be so hard on yourself!"

To which I replied, "Hello! Have you met me?"

Asking me not to be hard on myself is like asking the grass not to grow, or a bird not to fly, or for Rosie O'Donnell to keep her opinions to herself.

It just ain't gonna happen.

I wonder sometimes at the root of this personality trait. I'd blame it all on my parents but now that I'm a parent myself, I'm not so quick to judge. I've seen it firsthand. Perfectionism can be inborn.

But perfectionism is also a detriment to good parenting, I think. I used to spend a whole lot of time lamenting that I was the Worst Mother Ever. Then the aforementioned best friend forbade me to ever utter those words again. Now I only think them.

Clearly, I am not really the Worst Mother Ever. I've never lost my child on a subway, purposely left one in a running car, or heaven forbid, put my baby in the microwave! But I’m not really judging myself against that standard.

No, I’m judging myself against an old friend who is able to home school her kids without going crazy. I’m judging myself against my own mother who made my childhood so much fun. I’m judging myself against the mothers of my kids’ classmates who have never let their kids eat sugar.

As far as being a mother goes, I feel like I fail more than I succeed.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. I have two healthy, amazing, bright and wonderful kids. I can’t be doing it all wrong.

The best parenting advice I ever got was from violin teacher (and author) Edmund Sprunger at a workshop at the Centenary Suzuki School. I believe he was quoting someone else (whose name I cannot remember!) but I have the quote written in huge block letters in my notebook.

He said that kids don't need perfect parents, or even great parents. "They need ordinarily devoted parents."His point was that we spend so much energy on guilt and stress in the strive for perfection that we negate the good we're trying to do. We corrupt the relationship.

That was such a moment of clarity to me. Oh, sure. I still struggle everyday with my own expectations and faults, but I’m here. I am here for my children no matter what.

Perfectionism may be as inborn to me as the length of my bones or the color of my eyes. But that doesn't mean it can rule my life.