That Drawing Sucks and Other Lovingly Told Parenting Truths

Posted by Jeff on June 13, 2012 at 9:23 am

I really love this, from Mom-101’s Liz Gumbinner — Your kids are special. My kids are special. But no one is that special. You know?

I temper my writing here, there, and everywhere else to not overly gush about the greatness of my girls. I love the stuffing out of ’em but they screw up. Often. And so do I. More so. I follow through with this mindset offline too, because not every scribble, pitch, cartwheel, and joke that comes from my daughters is amazing. Pretty sure the same can be said of your lot.

I think we parents all know this to be true of our children’s output, whatever it may be, and yet we still believe in our hearts that our kiddo is the bestest. That’s called love. And that’s freakin’ beautiful. But it is how we balance communicating the truth of their shortcomings with the adoration we feel towards them that’s the thing, the thing that matters. A lot, in the end. Because that honesty is part of loving someone too.

Here it is straight: it is okay to gently let our kids know when they miss the mark. And not every positive reaction to something our kid says, does, or makes needs an exclamation point. Or a trophy accompaniment.

Yeah, this path is way more difficult than the “Oh my gosh, that is SO amazing!” track. It requires effort and nuance, and doing so even in the most benign of ways is bound to make them cry sometimes. This is okay, if the feedback is constructive and comes from a place of love. They will thank us for it later on down the line when they feel real world rejection, the brutal kind devoid of all nuance, tact, and care. Our kids’ egos will not have been artificially inflated to untenable levels (and their necks not sore from wearing all those gladhanded, dollar store gold medals) during their childhood, so when their bubbles are inevitably popped, the thud that follows the whizzing back down to earth won’t hurt that bad.

Our then-fully-grown-children will remember having heard true love’s voice whispering in their ear that they can do a bit better. Picking themselves up and giving it another go will be muscle memory, if not also a Chumbawamba song. With no nasty coping mechanisms required.