Day 81

There’s another epidemic, that’s been going around a while: parental guilt.

Our culture has cultivated an idealized expectation that all parents should be caring, nurturing, patient and above all else, ­ever-present. Researchers refer to this guilt-inducing trope of perfectionism as the motherhood myth or the goddess myth, though it likely applies to fathers as well.

Practically from conception, us parents have been bombarded with news stories and friendly advice, telling us what we should and should not be doing. And if we don’t fall in line, we’re doing it wrong.

And if guilt is the primary symptom, then the word “should” is the underlying virus chewing through the subconscious at an alarming rate. Parental guilt isn’t a one-off occurrence. It feels like a full-blown cultural epidemic.

I remember when B and A were in elementary school, and my mind and social media feed were filled with reminders of all the things I should be doing better. Such as creative hair braids, fabulous birthday parties, and making healthy Bento-style lunches with bite-sized finger-sandwiches and veggie slices, accompanied by an affirmation on a love-note.

My daughter A – who is very good at pointing out my flaws – was always quick to compare her lunch to her friends’. Or rather, compare me to her friends’ parents. “Tyras mum is sooo thoughtful, she drops off icecream at lunch break.” “Jessica’s mum is soooo smart, she has her own office next to school.” “ Charlize’s mum is soooooo pretty, she wears stylish clothes at drop-off.” You get the picture. I felt like I was consistently failing to live up to the idealized version of the super-parent that my daughter, the Internet and I all thought I should be.

This only fueled the unattainable standards to be the perfect parent, and forced me to continue to set the goals I could never achieve. All because of the ever nagging, obsessive, gut-wrenching guilt.

Maybe, because parent-guilt is evolutionarily designed to nurture and protect our children, there’s nothing we can do about it. Last year, when I was sitting in the psychologist’s office being told that one of my children is diagnosed with ADD, I burst into tears. The psychologist leans forward and looks into my eyes,“ Why are you crying?” she asks. Pull yourself together, I tell myself, before she puts you on her couch.

“Because I feel so guilty” I reply.

“It’s not your fault” she soothes, as she probably does for every parent who sits in the same seat I am sat in, and feels the same way. Did I blame the doctor who had performed the same test 7 years before, for not advising to retest at puberty? Did I blame the teachers, that had watched their student fail over and over to hold attention in class? No. I didn’t blame them. I just blamed myself. As every parent does. “I should have done more” I blubber awkwardly, feeling ridiculous, like a failed parent.

But maybe we just need perspective. Instead of perpetrating the myth of the perfect parents, social media could provide a community – a village, if you like – that celebrates and encourages unique experiences and helps us realize that children don’t need us to be perfect. They need us to model for them how to thrive in the real world.

This morning, A told me I had neglected her this past week. I’ve been busy reopening the business. There has been a lot going on, lots of real world problems, red tape to get sorted, staff who need attention, teething issues to iron out. It hasn’t helped that D, B and I have all been involved, working together to get the place set up, leaving A at home alone, doing online school, watching on the periphery. Feeling left out.

So today, after the managers’ debrief, I am all hers. We go for a ride on our beach cruisers, wind in our hair, soft sun on our cheeks, carrying cold brew lattes in hand. At home we play “spa day” where I give her a facial, that involves cucumbers on the eyes, a mud mask, charcoal peel, and a foot rub. We cosy up with the animals to watch a movie, under soft blankets, while the rain falls heavily outside. We watch the sun sink into the sea, the parrots fly over head, and discuss her love of photography. It’s been a good mother-daughter day, and she knows tomorrow is back to normal, she has school commitments, I have work commitments. She knows we can’t live up to Pinterest-style family time every day. We would fail if we tried. And it’s not real life.

And let’s be honest, as parents, we all fail. Over and over. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying. And no matter what the Internet says, we’re all doing great.