Tag: perfectionism

“You’re a bad mommy.”

I used to hear these words a lot…like a lot. And every time they were said to me, I felt a little smaller (not good in general, worse when you are 4 ft, 11 and a half inches tall); my world lost a little bit of color. The bizarre thing is that my girls never said these word to me. I did.

Perfectionism is sometimes painted as a positive. We associate it with being driven, with quality and with commitment. But for some, the desire to be perfect is so strong that they miss out on life – either refusing to try anything they are not good at or simply spending all of their time looking for points to take off of their scorecard. The constant quest for 100% takes a lot of fun out of the game.

In some areas, where being perfect matters less to me because it seems impossible to achieve, I use humour to deal with my disappointment. I laugh about my height, my bad driving skills, my horrible cooking abilities (her father is a chef!!!) as a coping mechanism.

Now, when perfection matters most to me – work, my career, being a good mom – I am unforgiving. If I feel my performance is stellar, I am on the highest of highs. Achievement fuels me like nothing else. But when I fall short of my expectations, my self-esteem takes a hit. Over the years, I’ve developed many tools to help ensure a solid report card at work. Long hours, great mentors, a strong network, good bosses (minus one or two) and rock star team members have been my safety nets. If I felt out of my depth, I could always count on anorexia to help me gain my sense of power and control to turn things around.

As a mom, I felt much more unsteady and the stakes were higher. Screw up and you potentially screw up your child. Ok, I am being a bit dramatic but the pressure I put on myself was high. In my mind, I had to be ever-patient, loving and entertaining; part child psychologist, rule maker, nurse, teacher, encyclopedia…all while smiling, keeping everything up at work and wearing heels.

I worried constantly about my mistakes, read articles about parenting. If I lost it during the morning school run, I spent the drive into work replaying the incident and vowing to be better next time. I cannot even talk about the bedtime routine! I started getting up at 5 am so I could work out before the girls woke up. I didn’t want to eat into any mommy/girls time.

I felt ashamed when I looked forward to a work trip. I liked travelling; being able to close my hotel room door and use my oasis to do whatever I wanted – catch up on work, read, sleep without a child kicking me in the ribs or putting their wet Pull-up in my face. There was no guilt about choosing myself because there was no one else there. People used to offer their commiserations about my having to travel so much. I couldn’t admit to them or to myself that I liked being away from home for a few days. I felt like such a fraud so I never spoke about it.

Being a mom started to feel like a job I was inadequate at. I would look at the moms on the playground laughing and totally focused on their kids. There I was, half paying attention to the girls, typing away on my blackberry and wondering what “chip” I was missing.

Don’t get me wrong. In the midst of all this, I knew I loved these girls with all that I am and all that I have. Without question, they are the best thing in my life. But, I felt I was missing the mommy “secret sauce.”

It was about this time that my world came crashing down. As I started to dig out of the rubble, a few things happened.

• I started to slow down and see things more clearly as opposed to a blur of activity and negative self-talk. I saw more beauty in the world.
• I discovered self-compassion and noticed things I liked about myself. And slowly, when I looked in the mirror, I saw me again. A person. Flawed but beautiful – as each and every one of us is…human.
• I started being open and honest with the girls when I felt overwhelmed or when I felt I messed up. Turns out, they are far more forgiving than I ever was with myself and they think I am the best mom. I see it in their faces when I pick them up at the end of the day and feel it in every hug and kiss.
• I saw my girls in a new light. I started to connect with them more; to share my learnings, to stop and really listen to them. And, oh, how I fell even more in love with them.

It is not always easy and I am by no means any closer to being a perfect mom. (If anyone knows one, though, please send her my way so she can babysit.) But I am coping with this fact in a much healthier way and I’m not sure how I know this, but deep down I know I am a good mom.

Am I silly mommy; a song and dance mommy; a loving mommy; an imperfect mommy; a sometimes embarrassing mommy (just wait for the teen years)? You bet.

But am I a bad mommy? No way.