Today is a good day on Wonder, Friend. I get to share one of my favorite writers, Julie C. Gardner, with you. Chances are, if you hang around the blogosphere, you already know Julie and her funny, thoughtful blog, By Any Other Name.
But I know some of you have a life outside the internet (what a concept), so for you this is a big deal. Trust me. Every week, Julie manages to wow me with her writing. We share a borderline creepy love for grammar, and that alone would endear her to me; but as you’ll see, even if Julie didn’t love grammar she would still be amazing.
Enjoy!
***
I just want my children to do their best.
I’ve heard these words countless times throughout my tenure as a mother, an English teacher, a human being. It’s the gold-standard of parenting statements issued without question or challenge in our typically competitive society.
The implication (whether true or not) is that we adults aren’t focused on the outcome of a situation: a grade, a trophy, an award, an accolade; we care only that our kids are trying their hardest, giving it their all.
As long as he does his best, we say.
And everyone nods. There is universal assent. Yes, we’d like our sons and daughters to succeed. Yes, we hope they’ll achieve. But surely winning is secondary to the constant putting forth of best effort, is it not?
Well, I wonder.
Perhaps we’re not being completely honest. With others, our children, ourselves.
What exactly do we mean by best? And are we, in fact, satisfied with it? I’m betting the truth is more complicated than the words just do your best would indicate.
Indeed, I believe some parents are not at all content with their kids simply trying; that instead, these moms and dads demand excellence; are either outwardly or implicitly disappointed by anything but.
And although I’ve blurted the always do your best line at my own son and daughter prior to academic, athletic or social challenges, I’m admitting now – upon reflection – I’m okay with sometimes less.
That’s right.
My name is Julie Gardner and I’m an imperfect mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend who doesn’t constantly Do Her Best.
Of course I try to keep up with housework, parenting, writing; with my obligations as a denizen of this earth. But sometimes my brain grows fuzzy, my heart feels heavy, my feet move sluggishly and I’ve simply had enough.
The list of my deficiencies is lengthy. I could always do better, be more, try harder. But occasionally, I allow myself to stop.
I enjoy a book or a glass of wine. I shut down my computer and engage in conversation. I let laundry and email pile up. I make soup and sandwiches for dinner because grocery shopping didn’t make my list of Tasks That Must Be Accomplished Today or Else.
Have I always done my best?
Decidedly not. And I don’t expect my kids to, either.
Now, I’m not suggesting we glorify mediocrity or promote outright laziness. I recognize the importance of striving, the demands of the global economy, the need to produce kids who might keep pace with the progeny of other nations.
But I refuse to wring my hands over every lost scholarship or missed boat, about potential opportunities that didn’t knock.
I simply can’t help thinking that in the grand scheme of things, more important victories abide.
Last week I registered my son for high school. In the fall, he’ll be a freshman at a highly-ranked campus known for its superior sports teams, its academic rigors. This year’s graduating class boasts something in the neighborhood of 42 valedictorians.
Am I doing Jack a disservice by not pushing him to be one among these dozens in 2016? Will Karly wish I’d bribed, threatened or cajoled her into studying harder? Is it possible my children might someday regret they didn’t cram in even more extracurricular activities or pursue aggressive resume-building from their earliest teen years?
I suppose so. After all, they’re bright and capable; almost certainly college-bound. But regardless of the paths they choose, I believe they can and will do wonderful things. To that end, we’ve presented them with opportunities to attempt new challenges, to request more support, to explore and experiment and succeed.
But.
When they don’t? I let it go.
Jack and Karly do not always do their best. And I’m okay with that.
Here’s what I require:
That they’re respectful. And kind. Generous and thoughtful. Tolerant and grateful. These achievements are non-negotiable.
And when my babies are fully grown (looking back on their childhood, recalling the way their father and I stumbled through parenthood), I hope they’ll think we were respectful, too. And kind. Generous and thoughtful. Tolerant and grateful.
I hope my kids will think that they have won.
I wonder…
:: Do you worry about pushing your children too hard or not encouraging them enough?
:: How do you find balance in this culture where parents can hire private coaches and tutors to promote “excellence” but every player earns a participant trophy and most students receive certificates of achievement?
***
About The Writer
When she’s not busy writing guest posts, Julie C. Gardner spends her time taking terrible self-portraits with her iPhone and wondering when her kids and husband got to be so old. You can follow this lapsed English teacher and aspiring author on Twitter and check out her blog, By Any Other Name where she writes about family, shares her writing journey and thoroughly embarrasses herself on a weekly basis.
Julie C. Gardner
Lapsed homemaker. Looking to hire a full-time housekeeper who will work for the sheer joy of a job well done and free coffee. Interested parties, DM please. 
Missy,
It’s an honor to be here. Thanks so much for sharing your space with me today and for letting me wonder with you…
I’m so thrilled you’re here and I love all the comments. I knew this piece would resonate!
I love packing up and visiting you! Well, I’d like to say this…I would have liked to be nudged a bit harder than I was at that age. That said, I think there’s a balance, and each child’s tolerance for nudging is probably different. And, so I go on record for saying this: I will NEVER, EVER hire a private coach. EVER.
Thanks for saying that, Stephanie (the part about wishing you’d been nudged harder).
I do worry sometimes that I should put slightly more pressure on my kids and I agree with you that each child is different and can withstand different levels of “encouragement” or “prompting.”
I suppose the challenge is in finding the right level of expectation that doesn’t them over the edge. As a high school English teacher, I saw plenty of kids at the edge.
And it made me want to keep Jack and Karly away from cliffs of any kind.
They will not only think you were respectful, kind, generous, thoughtful, tolerant, and grateful, they will know that you were because you are and you haven’t stumbled your way through parenthood you have embraced your roles and done your best! XXXOOO
Di,
I’d like to keep your words in my pocket all the time so I can read them when I need a reminder that I haven’t ruined everything – ha!
I love you. And so do Jack and Karly.
Thanks so much.
Julie, I’ve only been a parent for 2+ years, but I already know that I will practice the same philosophy as you.
I will encourage when needed, pull back when required and hope that my children will love what they do and WANT to do it well. And that they will be kind, generous, humble, tolerant and thoughtful.
Alison –
It doesn’t matter how long someone has been parenting; the instincts are there from Day One. Your son (and newborn-to-be) are so lucky to have a mother who is so intentionally good.
INTENTIONAL goodness. That’s the important part.
So cheers to kindness, generosity, humility, tolerance and thoughtfulness.
There is no better gift to offer our children.
Sooooo….I’m guilty. I’m a perfectionist, of the lazy cerebral variety. I project this onto my kids. RATS! I’m trying to just LOVE them despite the fact that they pick their noses and are constantly trying to play on my phone (Cut the Rope is 4 year old crack). I think they should be doing intricate puzzle work with those fancy wooden puzzles I bought from Melissa and Doug. Instead they want to watch cartoons. And heaven help us if they spill their juice. I mean, really. PAY ATTENTION!
So I always have to check myself before I wreck myself.
I try to zip my lips.
On a side note, there is no forgiveness for the fact that my husband taught them to say “I dropped a bomb” when they toot. I’m still pissed about that. PISSED. What were we talking about?
JoAnn,
You’re cracking me up right now because you are the AWESOMEST of mothers (and I mean that in the non-perfectionist way).
I’d be worried if your boys weren’t picking their noses and dropping bombs. (Because of course we ladies don’t do that. Cough.)
And I’ll take your pissed-off humor (and let’s be honest, your LOVELY and GRATEFUL writing) any day of the week over an intricate puzzle.
Now. Back to cartoons.
We have our priorities to maintain, after all.
Respectful, kind, generous, tolerant. Marry me? Or maybe be my mom. Okay, hotter older sister? xo
Tracy, Tracy, Tracy:
Did you really just call me hotter?
I guess you didn’t see the self-portrait I took specifically for this guest post down below.
Yeah. You see my point now.
But I’ll be your older sister for sure.
And when you come visit me (okay, your brother – fingers crossed!) we will share a pitcher of margaritas and talk about how awesome it is to be 43.
And hot. (Or old? Crap.)
Plus, Eloise can babysit.
So. It’s a date.
Beautifully written, my friend. I always suspect that, at the end of my final day, I’ll be happier about those small moments (#crockpotsrock) than the spelling test my kid didn’t ace in 4th grade. 😀
Lori,
Spelling sux. You can totally quote me.
And the two of us must meet (before our final days) because I have a suspicion that spending an afternoon with you would be a small moment I’d never forget.
Okay. Maybe a whole weekend.
You bring the gluten-free chips (do they make those?) and I’ll bring the margaritas and we’ll celebrate imperfection over crock pot chicken.
I remember, growing up, there was the routine . . . the “I love you,” then a kiss and a hug, and then I’d walk out the door and my mother would say “have a good day” (school was within a block’s walk).
Some time later, another “I love you” was added to the routine, at the very end, but that’s another story all to itself.
Anyway, I remember, one day, where a project went wrong during the last minute, and my forehead was full of zits, and, well, it was just going to be a bad day. But, my mom called out “have a good day.”
And I replied “I’ll try” with a defeated voice.
I came home to a pile of nachos for a snack (because food means love, you see). “You know, John, even if we’re not talking about academics, all I’ll ever ask is that you try.”
Sounds like my mom isn’t the only one who had that thought.
John,
I love that memory. So much. I think continually (no joke) about what my kids will remember from their childhoods; the moments that have made the biggest impressions; how they will interpret my parenting.
I hope they’ll have a story like yours to share someday.
And I REALLY want to share a big plate of nachos with you right now.
I wonder about this ALL THE TIME.
When Eddie knew all of his letters (by sight, not by singing the alphabet) before he was 2, people said, “huh, think HE’S a teacher’s kid?”
I really don’t think that is why. He is bright. We read to him. A LOT. He asks questions. I don’t think this has to do with my teaching ACT Writing and The Great Gatsby and Spanish verb conjugations to teenagers. I think it has to do with encouraging him to do what kids do naturally.
But it’s a lot of pressure. My boys are “teacher’s kids.” Is there a higher expectation on them? on me as a parent?
should they be doing their best more frequently than other kids?
I don’t think so. They are kids. I didn’t always do my best at my physics homework, because I hated it and it wasn’t important to me. Shoot, I didn’t always do my best at things I loved.
Isn’t this just life?
I love your thoughts and wonders, Julie. Because they are my thoughts and wonders too.
Katie,
Yes to this: “I didn’t always do my best at my physics homework, because I hated it and it wasn’t important to me. Shoot, I didn’t always do my best at things I loved.”
(And I didn’t even take physics.)
I absolutely *get* your concerns about raising kids as a teacher. Wait until Eddie and Charlie are in school and you’ll be questioning the things you’ve always said as a professional that YOU would never do.
It’s crazy, motherhood. But as you and I have both admitted multiple times, parenting is some hard business.
When you care to do it well…
Hugs to you and your sweet boys (all three!) and happy birthday (yesterday) to you, my friend.
I am still figuring this stuff out as I bumble along. I don’t want to push my kids too hard, but want to make sure I push them hard enough. I want them to be respectful and polite and accept everyone regardless of differences. Now if someone gest a C or a D in geometry, well, I won’t curl up and die because I myself struggled with math. And yes, tolerance is important to me, too. One of the main things. I love this concept, this post. xoxoxoxo to two of my favorite ladies!
Erin,
That’s the struggle right there: What’s the right amount of pushing and what’s too much?
When I was a teenager, I quit piano. My parents had been paying for lessons for years and I was pretty good without much effort. But eventually, I wasn’t practicing enough to make sufficient progress.
My heart wasn’t in it. I wanted to stop.
My parents could have forced me to continue, but begrudging effort in a creative endeavor is pointless.
Still, they didn’t make it easy on me.
They made ME tell my piano teacher face-to-face that I wanted to quit. This was so hard for me and the absolute right way for my parents to handle it. I had to really think it through and make the tough choice myself.
I sometimes regret that I didn’t continue playing but I know I can pick it back up when I want and I also know my parents did their best to encourage my talent and then to let it go…
I know. A long reply to your comment. But I wanted to share because I know how much you LONG to do the right thing by your girls.
And you will.
p.s. Yay, tolerance!
XO
I love it when I find out that other moms look at the dishes or the mess in the living room and promptly walk away. I always envision other moms staying up until the wee hours scrubbing their kitchens and sweeping the floors so that their kids don’t step on crumbs first thing in the morning.
I struggle with the idea of every child receiving a prize/certificate/trophy. On the one hand, you have parents applauding that method, saying “Good for that league/school!” On the other hand, what incentive is there to improve if not to make that team/earn that grade/get into that school? I was a self driven kid who needed minimal prodding from my parents to complete my homework, but I admit, I worked my ass off to earn a spot on a tournament softball team.
Leigh Ann,
I agree with you about the “everyone gets a trophy” problem; I think it’s a by-product of we parents NEVER wanting our kids to be disappointed. I get it. It’s heartbreaking to not be The Best.
But I think perhaps we set our children up for unrealistic expectations of constant success in the future.
And this is why I leave dishes in the sink and the beds unmade.
So my kids won’t have to worry about living up to my perfection – ha!
I love it when you use the word “denizen.” It makes me feel all tingly – Julie’s using big words again!
Anyhoo, yes to all of this. I want my kids to do their best, but I want to be ok with them when they don’t. For whatever reason. As long as it doesn’t mean they’re lazy slobs. Who live with me for the rest of their lives. Even though I joke and say I want them to live with me for the rest of their lives. I don’t really.
Productive members of society. That’s what I want to raise. And if that means that sometimes they take a break from being “the best?” Well, you’re right, Julie – I take those breaks too. And that’s ok.
Great post.
Thanks so much, Missy ~
I too worry about finding the right balance between pushing too hard and not encouraging enough.
I suppose it’s all a part of the tightrope-walk of parenting that makes this job so damn hard.
But as my kids get older and I see the competition ramp up, I can’t help worrying that some of us may be expecting too much…or at least focusing on the wrong lessons.
Thanks for understanding what I was trying to say, my friend.
Your girls are very lucky.
I had to look up denizen. I thought it was a brand of jeans. My mom teaches special ed.
Poppy,
We may just have a pair or two of Denizen jeans at this house.
You know. When I’m not to lazy to go to Target…
p.s. I love you.
Yes to all of your nonnegotiable accomplishments, and indeed they are accomplishments. I make it my mission in my classroom and my home to foster a culture of respect. I do, however, want my kids not only to do their best but to succeed, so I’m completely guilty of this. Fortunately seeing so many parents wringing their hands over perfectly wonderful children through a decade of teaching is giving me some perspective. I want my children to have habits of doing their best, and if sometimes they choose not to, I want to be ok with that, as long as it’s the exception and not the rule. I want to accept who they are and help them find the paths they love, and if that means not getting trophies or (gasp) going to college, I hope that I will still trust that I’ve been a parent who taught them the most important lessons I could.
Very thought-provoking, thank you!
Jessica,
So nice to *meet* you and thanks for weighing in. As teachers, we do have insight to some pressures (kids place on themselves or have thrust upon them) that not every parent does, I suppose.
I have ended up saying and doing things that I never thought I would (as a parent, as a teacher, as an adult) and am constantly amazed by my simultaneous capacity to want “what’s best” for my children while not always knowing what best is.
Ultimately, I believe in trusting my gut. And heart. And brain.
Then hoping my kids will understand someday…
OMG, Poppy kills me.
But Julie, I am seriously writing that down: tolerant, kind, respectful, grateful, etc. Right now, my brat of a 3-yr old is really lacking in these categories, but you are so, so, so right. Being number one is not the end goal.
T,
3-year-olds with new baby brothers get a pass on tolerance, I think. Or at least gratitude. It’s tough to be grateful when someone else is drooling on your toys (not a euphemism).
Still, I have no doubt your boys are being raised right:
with love and intelligence and _______.
(Fill in the blank with whatever gets you through the sleepless nights and potty training. Amen.)
I’ve lately given less than my best and it’s hard to reconcile.
I’ve also had to learn to be o.k. when less than the girl’s best isn’t perfect. Which, of course, it never needs to be. Except in my brain.
Suni,
Ahhh yes. The damn BRAIN.
Gets me every time.
(Except when it doesn’t. I call that nap time.)
XOXO
My problem: I’m competitive. I like to win. I like to be in charge. I like to lead. Which makes it very difficult for me not to freak when Biggest says he was Robin today while the same boy AGAIN was Batman. WHY can’t you be Batman for once.
The bigger problem, he didn’t care before then. Now he does. This is a me problem, not a he problem. Work in progress my friend. Work in progress.
Jamie,
That’s all that we can be: Works in progress. For sure.
At least you recognize this tendency in you (which is not bad, by the way…I wish I had a little more competition in my bones).
But in the long run, awareness is what’s important; then you can try to balance the good parts of your energy and limit what you don’t want to impart.
Theoretically. 😉
Like you said. WIP.
That’s what it’s all about.
Wait. What? I have my 4 year old doing practice brain surgery drills on all of his dolls. He IS our retirement policy!
That being said, these are beautiful words you have written (as always) and I will try my hardest to remember them when my son is 18, flipping me the bird and running off to join the circus as the bearded lady.
Tonya,
It sounds to me like you’re doing all the right things with the boy child. What with the surgical skills, and all.
Plus you’re having a female baby now, so HOORAY!
You’re pretty much doubling your chances with the Bearded Lady, no?
p.s. Hey. At least that’s employment. There might even be health care benefits…
I’m a soccer mom, but not a real one. Some of them are so…intense. The big twins have been playing for more than 10 years and I still don’t understand the offsides rule. I cringe when they lose and celebrate when they win, that’s good enough. Maybe I’m not raising David Beckham, but I doubt Mrs. Beckham knew she was raising him either.
Bridget,
I don’t understand soccer at all. Still, I feel like I should apologize to Mrs. Beckham for the thoughts I’ve had regarding her son.
What.
Julie, I so love your honesty here and your pinpoint on such a fine line.
I think we all have our things that we don’t give on (our priorities, I suppose) and things that we’re okay with letting go. They might not be the same, but I think that we all have them.
I love that your and your children’s “win” is at family and being good human beings. Sounds like something for us all to strive for.
(I’d expect nothing less of you, young lady! :))
xo
Galit,
That’s exactly it – and I’m glad you added this point:
“I think we all have our things that we don’t give on (our priorities, I suppose) and things that we’re okay with letting go. They might not be the same, but I think that we all have them.”
Yes. Priorities. They are different for everyone and this fact is okay, I think. (I hope!)
XO
Um, yes to this on so many levels. Of course I want to think that I want my children to do there best all the time… But really, I don’t want them to feel like worthless slobs if they decide they don’t want to do their best. Because you know what? Sometimes I really don’t want to do my best and sometimes I’m okay with that. (Other times, of course, I’m wracked by guilt.) Anyway, thanks for sharing. Parenting is such a scary balancing act, it’s always nice to hear what other parents have done or find helpful. And you, my dear, are always one I like to hear from.
Christine,
Oh, how I get the “wracked with guilt” thing! In fact, I think this post was partly my selfish attempt to work through some of that for myself…
It’s hard enough facing our own deficiencies and then on top of it all we have to worry about what we’re doing to our kids?
Yep. Tough balancing act, indeed.
And scary.
But worth the risk every single day.
Hi Julie.
Okay. Here is the the place where we diverge. (It had to happen sometime. But I think we can get past this.)
I am an enormous perfectionist. (That said, I am typing without my glasses on, so please forgive any errors I might make.)
I view it as a given that my kid is going to be a good person. To NOT be a mensch, that is unacceptable. Our religious practice and The Good Old Golden Rule makes me stand by that sentiment. Plus, he has the soul of a 85-year old Jewish man in the body of a 12-year old boy; thus far, it’s been pretty smooth sailing.
Academics are easy for him. He works hard to get his solid grades, but he is a scholar: a geek. And he’s fine with all these labels.
BUT
I want him to want more. I want him to be a great a fencer. Not necessarily Olympic level (although that would be lovely…) Why? Because I think he will feel good about himself if he excels in other areas of his life besides academics. I want him to know what his body can do and feel his own strength. I want him to be more social, instead of holing up on the computer for hours. I want these things for him. And this is the place where I have to work hard to shut up.
Am I okay if he screws up once in a while? Of course! We even have a plan. I will bring his stuff to school 3 times during the year. Three. After that, he’s on his own. (He has only needed to call me once this year. He forgot his swim suit. And who wants to borrow a swim suit.)
So what am I saying, I agree with you. We want them to be good people — but at our house, that’s the given. We expect that of each other at the baseline. We also expect hard work. Because my husband works really hard as a doctor. And I work hard as a teacher. Why? So my kid can sit on his butt? No. He can work hard, too. It’s his job.
I guess I identified with Yoda when he said “Do or not do; there is no try.” I HATE when I hear people say, “Well, you tried your best.” I literally cringe. You either do it or you don’t. I don’t care how hard you tried. Seriously, did you do it? People are so fast to tell them “it’s okay; you tried your best.” Ugh! People, let your kids sit in that discomfort for one minute.
I have never uttered those words and I will never utter those words. I will hug my son when he is sad. And I will rub his head. I will be there to offer him comfort. But I will never say, “Well you did your best” when he has lost at something. Losing is losing. Failure should motivate people to want to improve.
PS: This may be a cultural difference. We Jewish mommas and papas can sometimes be a little pushy.
*rant over*
Renee,
You know I love you and I love the honesty you share; I wanted to hear other sides to my argument, people admitting they push or encourage or always expect the BEST from their kids. But I wasn’t expecting “Do or not do. Only try.” (Outside of Star Wars, of course.)
I’m especially surprised since you are a teacher. Every year, each class, there can be only one BEST student – so according to your criteria (unless I misunderstand you)everyone else is a failure? I’m not sure I can support this.
Where is the incentive to try something perhaps slightly out of reach if there is no reward for making an attempt? I have run three marathons and four half-marathons knowing full-well I might not be able to finish them; that I would not be the fastest by (cough) a long shot.
But holy shit I felt good about myself for trying.
Also, if I gave the impression that my kids are holed up on a computer three hours a day then I must correct this. Jack and Karly take four honors classes apiece and spend time every single weekday at their karate studio training. They come home from school, do homework for hours, have dinner, go to the studio, then finish any work they haven’t completed when we return (in the 8-9:00 range, depending on the day).
They are not the best martial artists on their teams. They never will be. But DAMN I am proud of them. They do not always earn straight A’s but they are taking the most rigorous course-load available to them and DAMN I am proud of them.
The positive character-traits I listed, as I said, are non-negotiable – something I take for granted they will always display. I didn’t say they were the only things I expected from them. At all.
Anyway, I just wanted to clear that up in case my post left the impression that we’re living in a touchy-feely den of new-age laziness or something.
(I don’t think you think that. I hope!) And I still and always will love you, my dear friend.
Now Go.
Get your perfectionist on!
Being so perfectly mediocre myself, I kind of hope my kids will be brilliant and talented and stand out of the crowd.
But given the fact that I was unable to attain any of these things myself, I guess I’ll settle for happy. And kind and respectful. And smart. And love God. And Olympic-bound athletes. And Ivy-League bound grads. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalt!
Sorry. Got carried away again. If they can survive until adulthood I will be content.
As you know, I don’t have kids. But if I did I think I would really want to inspire curiosity in them, a desire to evolve, openness to new ideas, things like that. Knowing what a lovely person you are, I bet your kids have a wealth of those qualities. But it is interesting to balance a desire to excel with an over abundance of aggressive pushing. My hat is off to all you parents out there who figure it out.
“I hope they’ll think we were respectful, too. And kind. Generous and thoughtful. Tolerant and grateful.”
I have never, not once, thought of the flip side of wanting my kids to do their best at all times. I went into my daughter’s room this morning and was irritated at how she’s let it become a disaster area. Yet, here I sit, on the internet with laundry piles everywhere.
I also love that you can cause this much conversation among women, and even with differing opinions it does not become ugly.
Thanks for the food for thought : )
Two fabulous writers under one roof today – how blessed are we all! And as for me in my little corner, there has been a lot of good enough and not best of late. Because of that thing called life. And it has played over to my children’s lives too as I stop a little more, assess the lack of hurry there needs to be … let them slide a little and not overachieve.
It is good for us and for the days that it bothers me a little, I drink more wine 😉
As a mother of three grown, well-adjusted daughters who are living good lives I say doing your best all the time makes you nuts. Taking time to enjoy life and doing their best at loving others is what I tried to inspire the most. One was number 6 in her class, two were high honors but they also were well rounded. No one wants to hang with a boring book head.
I like Mother Teresa’s quote…We can do no great things-only small things with great love.
Love …it is what makes the world go round. Where would we be without it?
Speaking of which…I love ya friend. Your words make me happy 🙂
I carry this constant ball of angst around in my soul at all times. Am I doing my best to be everything to everyone at all times? And it’s funny, until I read this, it didn’t hit me, that I only have those sort of ridiculous expectations for myself.
I am, what you call, a laid back mom. If my children are happy and getting what they want out of life, then I’m happy, too. You can find me, most weekends at the soccer field cheering for everybody, for every attempt no matter the outcome. I’m even cheering for the other team because darn’t, they’re working hard, too.
I expect—no—I demand good grades, but beyond that, my philosophy for them is to keep a foot in the world and to always be kind. In other words, my kids are required to join at least one activity or sport or whatever at school, keep up their grades and be kind to everyone who crosses their path. Each of my girls do their thing, some more vested than others in their choices, but each of them are all healthy, happy and thriving.
So far, it’s worked. One in college, still on full scholarship going into her senior year even with the partying and the sorority life. One in high school, officer of just about everything, driven to be queen of the world and I have no doubt that beautiful girl will do exactly that. And one in middle school, a kick-ass archery girl, soccer player, expert fisherwomen who always throws the fish back, mother to ducks, girl who begged for and received a mermaid tail, (yes, a mermaid tail) for her birthday, because she wants to feel like a sea princess in the swimming pool. Everyone doing their own thing and what could be more beautiful than that?
Your words, as always darling girl, ring so true. Thanks again and again and again for your constant enlightenment.