I often think about what advice I will pass on to my children. Of course, I have plenty to say, but I don’t want to be that overbearing mother, so I’m trying to whittle it down over the years to just a few choice nuggets.
Today I’m offering up one which applies if my children choose to go the road of parenthood. But it’s kind of a doozy, so you might want to get a strong cup of coffee or a glass of wine or something.
Ready?
So here it is: your child is not perfect.
Your child, more than likely, is not in the 99th percentile—of anything. Your chances of that are slim. Take a moment to do the math.
Some of us have children for whom this is obvious.
They look different. Or sound different. They don’t say or do the right things. They struggle when everyone else is effortlessly flying by. All their Stuff is painfully worn on the outside for all the world to see. And the world sees, yes, they do.
But most of us have the other kind of children.
They’re as cute as a button. They do well in class. They usually remember their homework, even though they have to be reminded some of the time. They say please and thank you. Sure, they make some mistakes, but doesn’t everyone? We smile and call these teachable moments.
If you are the parent for whom your child’s Stuff is on the outside, I wish I could hug you all the way from here. I wish I could tell you it’s all going to get better, but the truth is there’s a chance it will be like this forever. While that’s a hard pill to swallow, it’s not as bad as you might think. For you, many of the cards are on the table. You’ve already made peace with the fact that the child you hold in your arms is not the one you imagined back when you were simply anticipating their arrival. But I’m going to bet that you fiercely love the child you have. And odds are, they are wonderful in ways you never would have imagined. You just have to admire the view from a few steps to the left.
If you are one of the other parents—you have some hard work ahead of you.
Yes, you.
We all think our children are perfect. We know they are beautiful. We firmly believe they belong in the gifted program. We suspect they just might be the most talented player on the team.
But when the test scores come home, and they don’t meet our expectations, we wave our fists and complain about the schools. When the basketball team doesn’t do well enough, we grumble about the bad coaching and the disorganized program. When your child makes bad choices, or doesn’t get enough attention, or veers down a path of which we don’t approve, we blame those Other kids. You know, those ones with their Stuff on the outside.
But the thing so many parents don’t realize is that all kids have Stuff. And it will take you some time—decades maybe—but you will realize that the child you hold in your arms is not the one you imagined back when you were simply anticipating their arrival. They might be a mediocre student or a terrible basketball player. They might not agree with your ideologies. At some point, every child is going to lay their cards on the table, and I guarantee, some of them are going to be real zingers.
Even if it takes some time, I hope you will love the child you have. I hope you will allow them to be miserable at one thing but outstanding at another, even if it’s completely upside down and backwards from the way you had imagined. I hope you will hug them and hold them and tell them that, while you might not understand, you will always love them. I hope, before you blame someone else for your child’s missteps, that you consider the idea that maybe, just maybe, the crux of the problem is that your child is not perfect.
And you know what? That’s okay.
It’s really, truly okay.
I promise.
