The pressure of projecting perfection

For a lot of years, I worked really hard at being the mom who had it all together. 

I tried to be the mom who had her kids in outfits that all matched for every holiday and/or photo op, the mom who decorated the house perfectly for every season, for every holiday. The mom who made homemade cupcakes with cute little decorations for all of the class parties, the mom who actually signed up to be the class mom every year, for each kid's classroom. 

I did all of those things because it helped me feel like a "good mom." Looking around and comparing myself to other mom's who seemed to have it all together, all of the time, put a ton of pressure on me. 

What's funny is, more than likely, nobody was judging me but me.  In looking back, I have to imagine that the majority of the other moms were far more concerned with their own little families than mine.  I put the pressure on me, because I always felt judged. I felt like other people actually cared if my kids were mis-matched in a family picture. But why?

Where does that come from, that feeling of being judged? Where does that feeling that everything needs to be perfect to the outside world, that you need to project this picture of perfection in order to be considered "good," or "worthy," come from?

For me, most of this came before the explosion of social media, where people became professionals at making their reality look like an elaborate photograph of sheer perfection that is the composition of their life. 

It's always been difficult for me to neglect the inclination to compare and criticize myself and my own life to falsified images that others create.  It took me many years to comprehend that the reality is, REAL LIFE IS MESSY SOMETIMES. And that's OK.

There came a point when I recognized that the pressure of projecting perfection was crushing me.  

I'm not saying that you shouldn't make (or attempt to make) cute cupcakes for your kid's class party. I'm not saying don't dress your kids in coordinating outfits for your annual family picture. I'm just saying that chances are, if you show up with store bought cupcakes to the class party, nobody will go home snickering about your shitty store bought cupcakes. They'll just be happy that you brought cupcakes. If you don't get around to taking a perfectly coordinated family photo for the annual holiday cards, chances are, nobody is going to discuss how awful it is that one daughter had a red dress on, and the other was wearing a brown skirt. They're just going to be happy that you sent a card, and that they get the opportunity to see how much everyone has changed and grown since last year's picture.

Something that my oldest daughter and I laugh about every year is the fact that every single birthday cake I make for her has a sunken middle. No matter how hard I try, I can not get her cakes to cook perfectly. It used to make me crazy, but it's turned into something really funny between us. I actually think if I presented her with a perfectly baked cake, she wouldn't know what to do with it.

When we look at family pictures from past holidays, one of my favorites is from a Christmas when Megan was a few years old, and she just had the worst smile on. Every picture looks worse than the previous one. I did not get a perfect holiday picture that year, but we always laugh when we look at those pictures. They're so funny, and they are so Megan. I wouldn't trade those pictures for "perfect" ones!

Looking back at your past, your real lived lives, however embarrassing or uncomfortable, can actually be really healthy and enjoyable.

The reality is, perfection is unattainable. Perfection doesn't exist. Wanting to put your best face forward is entirely understandable, but the dark side of attempting to achieve this is deeply losing yourself, and negating your own authenticity to the degree that you no longer recognize yourself or your life, or your life experiences.

I think that until we realize this, we can't be the best versions of our true, authentic selves. I wish I realized this sooner!

the great spank debate

Oh relax.


RELAX judgey.  I'm not a spanker.


Well, a very rare, hardly even occasional spanker.


I was one of those "I'll never spank my kid," moms.  Yes I was.


That was when I had my first kid though, and she was a freaking angel.  Well, most of the time.  Besides, when she wasn't an angel, her offenses were far too minor to merit a straight up smack on the buns.


I think the only time she was ever spanked was when she was about 6 and she convinced her 3 year old cousin to hide from me and her parents - and not come out from hiding when we called.  We ran up and down the street yelling for them, scared to death that they were stolen by bad guys right out from under our noses.  That spank was given out of straight up terror.


But Alex, my little buddy.  He was such a challenging kid for a chunk of time.  I was so unsure of how to parent a challenging kid.  I just did not know what to do with him.  I mean, he was kind of aggressive, and we aren't aggressive at all.  I never spanked, we don't hit, smack, push... we don't yell, we never really even fight.  Honest to Cod with four kids, none of them have ever felt the angry punch of a sibling unless if you count from a punch from a rousing game of Punch Buggy.


So I was taken aback when he was hitty as a toddler.  I was all like, "Where did he learn that?!"  "What am I doing wrong?!"  "How do I fix him?!"


I tried everything.  I got right down on his level and talked to him, tried reasoning with him.  I read books, I talked with other parents, experimented with time-outs and various other methods of dealing with an aggressive kid.  I had to be hyper-vigilant when there were other little kids around, and it could be stressful and exhausting and embarrassing.  I felt like I had to be super aware so I could head off an attack that was potentially building up, and I could never just relax.


Alex wasn't really very verbal for a while.  He wasn't slow by any means, he mimicked words and all of that normal stuff, he just didn't exactly form coherent sentences as quickly as my first child.  But the good thing was, he was extremely transparent.  I could tell from across the room when he was getting frustrated and getting ready to wind up and smack his cousin off of her chair.


That's when I typically hopped in and redirected his attention, stepped in and helped him get his message across.  When I actually recognized why he was aggressive, it made a ton of sense. When putting myself into the mind of an almost three-year-old who couldn't say, "Hey that's MY truck! I was using it first!  Give it back!"  I finally grasped the frustration he must have been feeling.  Because he couldn't yet verbalize his feelings of anger or upset, he'd just knock someone off their seat, smack them or scream in their face to get his point across.


Prior to recognizing that, I remember swatting him out of sheer frustration.  Frustration because he just whaled someone for no apparent reason.  Again.  And nothing that I did or said seemed to get through to him.  In all honesty, spanking didn't do any more than the other methods that I tried.


But then, I'll never forget this one time when he was being particularly aggressive with his cousin.  I was angry and spanked him and set him on the stairs for a time out, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes, on his little red cheeks, and it killed me.  Killed me.  He was looking at me like I hurt him.  I was his mom and I was supposed to help him, not hurt him.  All of a sudden, I was devastated and horrified.  In fact, I will admit it gives me a tear in my own eye when I think of that moment.  It was a light bulb moment, and it completely changed the way I dealt with him in his moments of naughtiness.


And he is such a joy.  I just love my boy.  He's such a good, kind, funny charismatic kid.  I truly enjoy him, and I feel guilty that I didn't figure him out sooner.  I feel guilty that I just assumed parenting him would be just like parenting his older (easier) sister.  I feel guilty that I lost control, and went against my belief that spanking a kid does nothing more than teach them that the bigger, stronger people can get away with hitting and being aggressive when it suits them.


At the end of the day, it was all about being aware.  Paying attention so I could step in and redirect his attention when I noticed him getting frustrated.  It helped tremendously to get down on his level and put myself in his shoes.  Not that there was any justification for his aggression other than the fact that he was learning how to deal with his emotions, but I finally understood.  And when I quit making it about me (why wouldn't he listen to me?  what am I doing wrong?) and made it about him, I got it.  And when I got it, I was able to help him work through his anger - and it worked.


It really worked.


There was a lot consistency.  A lot of, "Use your words," and "I'm counting to three..." those were the most often used phrases.  In fact, years later, all I have to do is hold up one finger from across the room at ANY of my kids (yes, including my 14 1/2 year old son), together with the evil eye, and they will quit whatever it is that they are doing to bug me, like immediately.  Communicating very clearly.


So, I'm not pro-spanking.  I am not saying that I wouldn't swat my kid if I felt it in the moment, or that I am sitting here judging spankers.  But I do think it can easily get out of hand, and I won't use it as a way to get my kids to behave or listen to me.  I know how it feels to feel frustrated with your child, to be at your wits end - but I believe there are always other ways of approaching things.


Yes, I was spanked as a kid.  Yes, I was scared of getting spanked, and no I do not think it harmed me.  My spankings weren't lose your mind ass-whippings, they were more like the, "wait til your dad gets home," kind of spankings that had you sweating in your room til you heard your Dad pull up.  Which is when you quickly put on every single pair of underpants you owned (to cushion the spank) and prayed it wasn't going to be a bare hiney spanking.


I do firmly believe that a healthy fear of your parent is a good thing on many levels.  But I don't want my child to fear that I am going to physically hurt him if I am angry with him.  I want him to wonder what the heck I could do if I'm angry with him.  And that's where the healthy fear comes in.  Fear that if they push my buttons too hard, I could lose it.


And never discount the evil eye, it really does go a long way if you use it correctly.