Let’s talk about unreasonable expectations. With Mother’s Day less than a week away, I’m beginning to see a lot of “Best Mom Ever” images. At first, they made me want to sob. It has been a particularly rough few months of parenting for me. During this time of COVID, virtual or hybrid learning, and the home stretch of the school year I’m sure I’m not alone. If parents could run away from home, I would consider it. If I weren’t a single parent I would definitely at least annex a day or two to myself, but that isn’t an option.

So I’m forced to accept what I have in so many other situations. When we can’t change the circumstances of our lives, all we can do is aim for a new perspective. (Even when I can situations, changing my perspective is usually part of the change.) Instead of berating myself for not being the best mom ever, I’m trying to embrace it. After all, do I expect my son to be the best child ever, to be a perfect student or a perfect household member? No. Would I want him to be down on himself for not being perfect? Absolutely not!

Why we want to be perfect parents

If I don’t want my son to have unreasonable expectations of himself (or me) the best thing I can do is not have them myself. It sounds simple. It is simple, but far from easy. A big part of me wants to be perfect, or at least the best mom ever. Some of my motives are admittedly shallow. I want others to think I’m a perfect parent, to be beyond reproach by people who have criticized me and my parenting in the past. I want my kid to think I’m the best mom ever, too. It would feel nice to relive the days of his infancy and young childhood when he thought I was just the best.

I also want things to be easy, assuming if I were a perfect parent my teenage son would do all his homework when he is supposed to, do his chores without being reminded, never give me an attitude. Life would be heavenly. The underlying assumption is that I have (or should have) complete control over my child. That he could, and should, be perfect. That he has no autonomy, and that I am completely at fault for the fact that he isn’t perfect. Talk about unreasonable expectations!

Then there are the fears. Parenting is the scariest job out there. We often feel like the stakes are incredibly high, and any small mistake could spell ruin for us and our kids. If I don’t discipline him or hold him accountable he’ll turn into a career criminal. Or at least someone who will be forever dependent on me, and unable to hold down a job. But, if I yell too much, or say something unkind he’ll be permanently scarred, be in therapy for the rest of his life, be either abusive or abused in his future relationships, or God knows what else.

How unreasonable expectations make things worse

These fears may sound extreme when articulated, but they lurk just below the surface whenever I have a tough parenting moment. They make me even more likely to be either too permissive or too harsh because it’s hard to find the middle road and remain level-headed when it feels like you’re walking a tightrope over a den of hungry alligators while someone threatens to set the rope ablaze.

My son picks up on this, too. He senses my stress and either thinks I’m nuts or blames himself, thinking he is the cause. Then we are both on the verge of a meltdown before a word is said. He also takes on a similar all-or-nothing, “perfection or disaster” mentality towards himself. This makes a poor test grade or any other mistake feel life-threatening. Afraid to face his own mistakes (which feel like fatal flaws), he is more likely to be in denial he has made a mistake. And more likely to be dishonest about them with me about them.

How can we let go of unreasonable expectations?

So what is the solution? I wish I could say that there is some easy solution that will fix everything in an instant. If there is, I haven’t found it, yet. So my only option is to make small shifts. If I want him to be accepting of his mistakes and imperfections, I need to let go of my unreasonable expectations of us both. I need to try not to take responsibility for anyone else’s actions, including his. That also means that he isn’t responsible for anyone else’s feelings or actions, even mine. He can’t make me yell, that is my choice. And I have to acknowledge that most real growth and change is not a direct ascent. Often we take two steps forward, then one step back, but if we keep going we still make progress.

So for today, I will try not to prove to my child (or anyone else) what a perfect parent I am. I won’t try to be the best mom ever. Instead, I will try to handle my imperfections the way I want my son to.

• I will admit that I make mistakes, and I will aim to improve a little bit at being patient, kind, and honest.
• I will try to accept that he isn’t going to always do things perfectly. He won’t even always try to do the right thing.
• I won’t tell myself stories about how mistakes made today (mine or his) predict certain disaster in the future.

Despite how it feels, the way things are is not the way they will be forever. The situations will change, and the feelings of fear and frustration will pass. I love my son, knowing he isn’t perfect. I love him for his kind heart, for the way he tries, for his courage to be himself. Those are things that matter, much more than an undone chore or incomplete school assignment. Just like my wanting to be there for my son, give him the skills to live a good life, and trying to be a better parent than I was yesterday matter more than if I occasionally overreact or am too lenient.