The “good enough” parent is a philosophy I read about today in a CNN article called “Screw up (in small ways) at parenting. It’s good for your kids” by David G. Allan. Here’s an excerpt:
“This is the theory psychoanalyst and pediatrician D. W. Winnicott’s called the “good enough” parent. Beyond meeting their basic needs, your children’s emotional growth and ability to cope with life’s frustrations is improved by small failures and them knowing you make mistakes. It’s useful for them to realize that life can be hard sometimes and nothing is really perfect. In other words, your shortcomings will help them emotionally thrive, and even develop into interesting people.”
I really agree with this philosophy, because nobody is perfect and we teach our children so much more by our actions than our words. It’s the concept of “do what I say, not what I do” that is messed up. For example, if we constantly tell our kids to be forgiving and welcoming to all their friends and then we talk behind people’s backs and are judgmental and unforgiving about the smallest slight, what are our children going to learn?
My kids really excelled at what they did whether it was sports, academics, leadership, etc. I’m a perfectionist and believe in putting forth your best effort, which they did. However, I don’t think my perfectionist traits helped them out so much now that they’re older. Do they really need to be the best at what they do? Or, like the article says, is it okay to be “good enough?” Maybe someone who believes they are “good enough” is well-rounded and happy? If I had a do-over as a parent, I think I’d take back my emphasis on performance and results. Not that being the best is a bad thing, but it’s okay to not be best swimmer on the team, or valedictorian or the one who brings home a wheelbarrow full of academic awards. It’s okay to learn from mistakes, not feel pressure and still be passionate about what you do.
Here’s another excerpt about the lessons learned from the CNN article:
“Are you accidentally teaching impatience? Or intolerance of people different than yourself? Are you teaching that it’s OK to yell or hit (read: spanking) when angry? Are you implicitly letting them know work is more important than family (read: checking your phone in the middle of a conversation)? Or that the world is a scary place? Or that life is inherently unfair? Or that appearance matters more than feelings?
“I unintentionally learned a lesson in selfishness growing up. My childhood was a bit unmoored and financially insecure and I got skilled at taking matters into my own hands. Being self-sufficient is positive (thanks, “good enough” Mom and Dad), but always meeting my needs before others is self-centered. But I’m aware that I could be modeling selfishness to my kids if I don’t strike the right balance between self-care and selfish.”
My son and friend at high school graduation.
What’s your opinion about being “good enough” as a parent or a person?
Views from our local park. Oh and yeah. It’s December!
Walking around our park last night, a little puppy snuck up behind me and licked my leg! I was startled and watched as the puppy tore across the park with the owner, a young woman, trying to catch the pup. The puppy then raced back to where the owner’s boyfriend was and I watched the guy throw himself on the ground trying to capture the quick puppy.
I told the woman she should put her puppy on a leash and he’d be easier to catch. She was a little defensive and said that it was her boyfriend that took off the leash and she’d prefer to keep the puppy safe from running into the streets or getting away if it was up to her.
“We let our puppy run free with the leash attached, so I can stop him by stepping on the leash,” I explained. “He’s easier to catch that way.”
“Thanks, that’s a great idea,” she said with a smile.
But, then I thought, was any of that my business? What is it with the need to give unsolicited advice? Maybe I’m just a busybody and give my two cents worth where it doesn’t belong. I’ve been reading numerous articles about how everyone these days is giving unsolicited parenting advice. And most of it isn’t welcome. It’s kind of ironic considering I write weekly parenting advice articles for SwimSwam.com.
Here’s an excerpt from an “unsolicited parenting advice” article that’s interesting:
“No, I don’t want your unsolicited parenting advice” by Carla Naumburg
“Have you tried cooking with her?”
“This is the question I usually get whenever I describe my eight-year-old daughter’s selective eating.
“For years I’ve responded to such unsolicited advice by describing all of the different tricks and tactics I’ve tried, including, yes, cooking with her. Halfway through yet another conversation last week about her food habits, I suddenly realized something.
“I was being momsplained.
“We are all now familiar with the term mansplaining, in which a man tells another person (usually a woman) how to improve a situation or solve a problem, regardless of whether he has any idea what he’s talking about, or even a decent grasp of the entire situation. Well-intentioned or not, it’s rarely helpful.
“We moms do it to each other all the time, too.
Here’s how it usually goes down. You bemoan your latest parenting challenge—perhaps your child isn’t sleeping or refuses to practice piano, or maybe you’re at the end of your rope with the constant meltdowns or mouthing off. Inevitably, another mom jumps in with a story about How She Solved the Problem. She then dives into the details of the star chart, parenting guru, or Pinterest-worthy solution that had her kid on time for school, every single morning.
“Momsplaining happens on the playgrounds and soccer fields, in Mommy and Me classes, and anywhere moms congregate and chat between sips of coffee. I’ve been momsplained so frequently in response to my online parenting rants—when I’m really looking for empathy—that I now either come to expect it or I explicitly note that I’m not asking for advice. I almost always receive a litany of suggestions anyway, most of which I’ve already tried or aren’t relevant.”
In a dad’s perspective, Clint Edwards writes “6 Pieces of Unwanted Parenting Advice And How I’d Like To Respond.” It’s well worth reading and here are two of his responses:
My wife and I have three kids (6 months, 5 and 7). People regularly give me unsolicited advice on parenting, both in person and online. And you know what, I get it. You think you’ve figured something out and you want to share your great revelation. Or perhaps you don’t have kids, so that makes you an outside observer with a fresh prospective. But really… I’d rather you just shut the hell up. Below are a few examples of unsolicited advice I’ve been given and how I would like to respond… if I wasn’t such a nice guy.
1. Shouldn’t he be wearing a jacket? Yup, he probably should be wearing a jacket. And you know what, I don’t know when he last changed his underwear or socks, either. But here’s the deal. I told him to put on a jacket, but he’s seven and he listens about as good as a goldfish. Once an evening I wrestle him into the bathtub. I don’t have energy for much more, so I’m letting him figure out a few things the hard way, through goose bumps and rashes. Can you live with that? Because I can.
6. Keeping your children from throwing fits in public begins in the home. I’m going to assume that when you raised children it was socially okay to beat them. Because here is the thing, I work really hard to teach my kids how to act appropriately in public. But then we get out there, and they turn into screaming, needing, wanting, maniacs. It’s like showing a werewolf the moon. And honestly, most of the time they are fine. Most of the time they are sweet and wonderful. So please realize that the fit you witnessed is not the norm. But what I can say is taking my kids out into public, telling them no, letting them throw a fit, and then telling them no again, really is the only way they are going to figure out how to be a quiet and reserved person. You know… an understanding person. The kind of person who doesn’t give unsolicited advice in a grocery store.
This one really cracked me up: “Totally Appropriate Responses to Unsolicited Parenting Advice” By Marissa Maciel.
Actually, this is my twelfth child.
Oh, I’m not her mother; I just walk her and make sure she poops, then take her home.
She has to fly on the plane with us, sorry. It’s in her contract.
Listen, I’ve read the books, subscribed to the newsletters, and bought the recommended sippy cup. Come back when you’re president of my kid’s Montessori co-op.
Her doctor said that thumb-sucking is the e-cigarette for babies weaning off of the breast, so we’re fine with it.
You know, I tried that once and the very next day some blogger wrote a hot take about it — no thanks.
We did consider leaving her at home instead of bringing her to the restaurant, but the last time we did that she locked us out and ordered thirty pizzas on my credit card. BABIES, right??
Yes, we tried feeding her. The crying didn’t stop and we also forgot to make a sign that said “we already tried feeding her.” Thanks, though.
Actually, this is my twentieth child.
The park where I was startled by a friendly pup.
What are your thoughts about unsolicited advice—whether it’s for children or puppies?
I got a phone call from my son. He told me he got an F in a class. This was during his freshman year of college. I was out of state for a training program for my new job. It was an intense five-day training where I was way out of my comfort zone, removed from parenting, or any thoughts about my college child.
When my son called it was a jolt. I had the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach. An “F?” How could that be? Less than a year ago, he had given an amazing valedictorian speech for his high school.
My son and friend at high school graduation.
I confided this shocking news to a new friend in training with me. He had been a counselor at a major university in a prior career and he told me that my son could get the F removed from his record. He could:
1. Talk to his professor.
2. Retake the class.
3. Talk to people in administration and explain his extenuating circumstances.
That made me feel a little bit better. I called my son and told him “he had to take care of this.” He could never get into graduate school with an F on his record.
I thought about this incident today. I woke up this morning with a stabbing pain in my heart. I cannot believe I told that to my son. After writing weekly swim parenting articles for SwimSwam.com, one of my recurring themes is not focusing on the results. I talk about not looking at times (which translates to grades). It’s the process that counts. Let our kids learn from their mistakes. That’s what I keep saying.
I’m feeling like the worst parent in the world. I did not ask my son, “what is going on? What are you going through?” I didn’t offer support, or find out why he was failing.
My son with his dog, Angus.
I was more concerned with performance.I can’t believe I didn’t question if there was something going on in his life that I should know about. Was I more worried about “what people would say” rather than my son’s well being?
Although I feel terrible and ashamed, I guess I can say that I’m still learning about parenting. I know for a fact that I used to be too focused on results and performance, rather than the process.
My son, who is in his fifth year of school, is doing great in all aspects of his life. Despite me being his mom, he’s healthy, happy and has learned from his mistakes. I’m trying to learn from my mistakes, too.
A few weeks ago, my daughter was telling me how she’d missed practice because she had a midterm and the time conflicted. Her coach wasn’t happy, she said.
“Well,” I said, “maybe you should call her and explain. Or, better yet, next time you’re going to miss practice, let her know in advance.”
“Mom, I’m telling you something. I don’t need your unsolicited advice. A simple ‘that sucks’ would suffice.”
I was offended. My feelings were tweaked, not exactly hurt. I thought, what is going on with her?
This week she called and asked for my advice about a sticky situation with a friend. I get it now. She had a problem she couldn’t solve on her own. She wanted my advice and then she would handle it from there.
In her dorm room getting settled.
My mistake has been offering advice when my perfectly capable, adult child is making her own decisions and finding her own way. She does not need her mom telling her what to do all the time.
This was reinforced again when she called with an issue with her university and paperwork for the fall quarter. I gave her a few suggestions of who to call, what to do.
“I’ve done all that, Mom. I’m just telling you about it.”
Yes, I understand now. She’s sharing the trials and tribulations in her life. She’s not asking me what to do. If she needs my help she will ask me.
With teammates after breaking the 8 and under 4 x 50 relay record.
I should be thankful that my daughter likes to share. That she can figure things out on her own. That she’s got a strong head and can handle the daily tasks of living in a house, paying utility bills, handling school bureaucracy, and getting a speeding ticket.
Welcome to adulthood! I guess a simple “that sucks” from time to time is all she needs.
Today my little girl graduates high school. What a joy she has been to raise, teach and hang out with. I remember her kindergarten interview where she had to be tested for one of the coveted spots at St. Theresa’s. She had fun buns on her head and ankle high “Britney Boots,” marketed for little girls dreaming of becoming Britney Spears. She boldly entered the kindergarten class and announced to the world that she was “Robert’s little sister.”
Today, I have a tall, wise-cracking young lady with a big smile and sparkle in her eye. If I could tell my daughter three things she needs to know for her next adventure called college, what would it be?
“To thine own self be true.” Don’t worry about what other people think. Do what you know is right. This famous quote is from Polonius to his son Laertes, before Laertes boards a boat to Paris in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Even though it’s pretty old, it still resonates today.
Happiness is not having a boyfriend or being thin. My mom would tell me the worst things when I was my daughter’s age — mainly focused on the need to “have a man” — or that “a man would make me happy.” This must be a throwback to my mother’s generation, where a woman’s identity and self worth were wrapped up in a spouse. Instead, I will tell my daughter that happiness is found within yourself — by doing something that you love. Once you find happiness in yourself, only then can you share it with others.
Don’t worry about what your career or major will be. You will figure it out. Don’t feel pressure about it. Most people going into college that have a major, change their minds anyway. Get your basic requirements out of the way and then after taking different classes you will discover what you don’t like and what you do like.
And most importantly, not even on the list — I love you.
What three things would you tell your daughter on graduation night?