Parenting
Reflections of a Reformed Perfectionist by Lisa Martinez
Updated: Dec. 19, 2016
Originally Published: Jan. 9, 2012
Let me share a little secret: I used to be a perfectionist. Not in the sense that I believed I was flawless, but rather in my relentless pursuit of excellence in everything I did. Yes, I was that person who wanted to make everyone happy. I cared a bit too much about how others perceived me. Whether it was at work or at home, I aimed to excel in every role I undertook.
Looking back, it seemed so simple. I aced my classes, attended a prestigious college, married the love of my life, and landed a fantastic teaching job that paid well. I maintained our charming little apartment in pristine condition and prepared gourmet meals for my wonderful husband. We worked out together, dined out often, and life felt like a fairytale. It was all so perfect.
Then came the kids.
Now, don’t misunderstand me—having my children has been the most incredible experience of my life. However, here’s the kicker: it’s nearly impossible to pursue perfection while raising little ones.
I gave it my best shot, though. I juggled time for friends, aimed to be the ideal wife, and tried to keep up with every little detail. I wanted the laundry to be spotless, the floors immaculate, the school notes signed on time, and the house free of clutter. Yet, the more I sought perfection, the more I felt resentment bubbling up towards the very people I loved—my family. You know, the ones who left crumbs everywhere, spilled drinks, and treated the laundry basket as a mere suggestion instead of a requirement.
And don’t even get me started on the endless cycle of toys scattered all over the floor, dirty dishes left in every corner except the dishwasher, and a husband who thought the top of the hamper was a sufficient destination for his clothes.
Throw in some sibling squabbles and the occasional tantrum, and I was left feeling drained. Between my unrealistic expectations and the chaos that comes with parenting, I was often grumpy and overwhelmed.
It wasn’t just about the mess at home; I also put immense pressure on my kids academically. Parent-teacher conferences where my children didn’t shine as brightly as I hoped felt like personal failures. Some of my kids were all about their studies, while others barely seemed to care.
It wasn’t about competing with other moms; it was a battle within myself. Questions like “Am I good enough?” and “Am I doing right by my children?” haunted me. I worried about everything: Is my house clean enough? Are my kids happy and well-adjusted? Are they in the right activities?
But then, a lightbulb moment hit me: the problem was mine to solve. I realized I was measuring my self-worth based on my performance. As a teacher, I thrived on evaluations and feedback, but as a mom? There’s no report card, no grading system to tell me I’m doing a good job—especially on those days when everything goes off the rails.
You know the days I’m talking about: when you can’t find a shoe and the kids are late for school, or when you step on cat food scattered on the floor because you can’t find the broom. Or those moments when dinner is just hot dogs yet again because you’re too exhausted to cook.
Life isn’t perfect, and it’s even messier with kids. I took far too long to grasp that perfection is a myth, especially when raising little humans. It’s akin to “shoveling snow while it’s still snowing,” as the wise Phyllis Diller once said—absolutely futile.
But here’s the good news: I’m learning. I’ve shifted my focus from cleaning to cuddling. I’m sweeping less and laughing more, and I’ve roped the kids into helping out. My priorities have changed; I care more about how my kids feel than what other parents think. I guide them, but I also allow them to become who they are meant to be. They might not remember how spotless the floors were, but they will always treasure the love I showed them.
Lesson learned!
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Summary:
In this piece, I reflect on my journey from being a perfectionist to embracing the messiness of parenting. Life with kids is chaotic, and the pursuit of perfection only led to resentment and exhaustion. I’ve learned to prioritize love and laughter over cleanliness, recognizing that my children will remember the moments we share rather than the state of our home.