Take It Back, You Little Punk
Growing up, being perfect was a huge theme around my house.
If one of us brought home an A, that wasn’t good enough. It had to be the highest A. The best. Some of us coped with this by graduating Summa Cum Laude from grad school, becoming a cardiologist or by dropping out of Theater school and never holding a “real” job (ahem).
Anyway, I want my kids to know that I don’t expect perfect. I just expect their personal best. And, yeah, sure, I understand that it’ll take us all time to gauge what their best really is.
This is firmly resolved, however: I will not be like my parents.
No way. I love my parents, but I’m going to give my kids room to breathe, to grow… and in the end, they will love me for it. Or else.
So, I have this song that I sing with my daughter, N., every night while she’s brushing her teeth. It goes like this (and FYI, I didn’t make it up):
I’m not perfect
No, I’m not.
I’m not perfect
But I’ve got what I’ve got
And I do my very best
I do my very best
I do my very best each daaay
But I’m not perfect
And I hope you like me that way
I know, I know. I am the most wonderful parent ever. I mean, already teaching my four year old that she doesn’t have to be perfect and that her best is good enough?
That is evolved, people.
Last night, however, a hiccup occurred in my great plan to lead my child down the glowing path of enlightenment.
“Mommy, I’m not perfect?”
“No, honey, nobody is perfect.”
“But you told me I’m the perfect daughter.”
Damn. I did say that a few days ago. Think… think…
“You are the perfect daughter. For me. Plus, the perfect daughter can make mistakes, you know.”
Ha! I. Am. A. Genius.
But, wait, I still blow it by saying…
“After all, do you think I’m perfect?”
OK. Call me an idiot, but I really thought she was going to say “Yes, Mommy, I do.” And then I was going to get all evolved and say, “But, no, I’m not.” And then I’d proceed to point out all the MINOR mistakes I’d recently made thereby showing her how self aware her mother is. Double letter score!
But no. No, sadly she did not say what I thought she was going to say.
“No, Mommy, I don’t think you’re the perfect mom.”
And that’s just how she said it. With emphasis on “you’re”. She said it like… well, like, somewhere in her little four year old brain she knows of a perfect mom and that I am not it.
My mind races. Who could this person be?! What kind of permissive, irresponsible person could she possibly be talking about?!
Be real, if a four year old thinks you’re the perfect mom, you’ve got problems, right? RIGHT? I’m over here making the tough decisions and someone else is messing it up for me by letting their kid stay up all night and call in sick to school so they can watch TV all day and THEY get to be the perfect mom?! FOUL!! MAJOR FOUL!
I had to know. I needed to know. So, I sucked in a deep calming breath and asked, “OK. Well, who do you think the perfect mom is?”
So I can put a hit out on them.
She looked right into my eyes and stated matter of factly, “Naani.”
Naani, ladies and gentlemen, is my mother.
And don’t you dare tell her about this.
15 Responses to Take It Back, You Little Punk
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Bwa! Ha! Ha! Ha! (sorry I know that’s not really very funny to you) Gma’s are always more fun than parents, ALWAYS!
Well, I think you’re a perfect mom.
Especially when you teach N. about us crazy white devils.
Suddenly I have REM’s “It’s The End Of The World (As We Know It)” running through my head.
Personally, I think you’re a pretty awesome mom. Just for the record.
Oh, and I plan on teaching MY kids that nobody cares if you tried your best when you win.
Most grandparents are the biggest fakers in the world. They treat their grandkids like gold as a form of penance for screwing their own kids up.
Not my folks though. They were perfect!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Oh, that is the mother’s curse in action, right there. She nailed you. I’ve GOT to meet this kid.
And you know what? I think you’re the perfect mom. And the perfect friend. All wrapped up in one.
And this is the way of the world. I was sure *my* Nana was perfect, and I was *never* going to be like *my* mom or my mother-in-law – and both of my children think those women are pretty damn close to perfect.
Oh – but I totally tell them that they are perfect. My take on it is to affirm for them that they are perfect just the way they are – that perfection does not equal flawless.
Because, yeah, apparently I am not only enlightened, but rewriting the dictionary. Heh.
I swear parents become entirely different people when they become grandparents. They totally evolve. Plus, they let ‘em get away with murder.
I need to work harder on the not perfect thing. I make an effort to praise Lil’ M when he does well, but I can’t help but get frustrated when he doesn’t do well on things I know he can do better. I do make sure that I explain I’m fine as long as he does his best, but I won’t accept laziness. It’s a fine line to walk.
No matter how hard you try, you can never be perfect so I suggest that you shouldn’t talk about “being perfect or not” with you kids. In this way, they’ll make a set of rules and try to judge everyone per their rules.
Ah, a song from Laurie Berkner…which will be in my head for the rest of the day, thankyousomuch.
Around here, perfect flew out the window with an autism diagnosis. Now it’s “Get through each day, one at a time.” I like your style of thinking, though. I went to an ‘uppity-up’ high school (college prep and the like), and I knew SO many kids that were just miserable trying to meet perfect expectations.
I love kids.
Well, to be fair, all grandmothers rate high in kids’ books because, let’s face it, grandmas let you eat cookies (sugar in your kid’s case), stay up late, and play with whatever toys you want to play with. I always loved my mom, but I loved going to my Noni’s house because she and Popi let me stay up to watch Rescue 911.
When she is older, though, she will see that you were the best mom for her. I know my mom was (and still is).
I just tell Z that she’s perfectly HER – no explanations. But she is expected to come home with good grades. I’m probably a little rough on her about that, but at this point, I know she CAN, so I expect it. She had a real issue with being a perfectionist, too, for a few years, and I had to CONSTANTLY point out my OWN screw ups as an example. That’s hard when you’re as perfect as me. (Hahahahahaha)
Anyway (sorry – rambling), I will never, ever be as good as my mom, both in my eyes and certainly in Z’s. No way. Sometimes that pisses me off, but most of the time it’s not too bad. Except that they spoil her freaking rotten and I have to “deprogram” her when she gets home from a visit with them.
That is the way it always is!! My children think the perfect mom is my ex-husbands mother, their Nana. I may never get past the fact that it couldn’t even be my mama, it had to be his. Oh well…
Hi.
My kids think my parents are the best thing since sliced bread. My parents have chilled out totally and let them away with far more than we ever were. You are your kids perfect mother, sure didn’t they pick you themselves!!
this kinda broke my heart a little bit for you. when i was n’s age there was no doubt in my mind that my mom was the perfect mommy and my gram was the perfect grandmother. it was only those teenage years (back when i knew everything and my mother knew nothing) that i didn’t think mom was perfect.
for the record, i think you are a spectacular mom and are perfect for n and y.