It’s a picture that gobsmacks me a little: My friends’ four year old holding a King Kong sized lollipop – only it’s a pink pool noodle swirled into a giant candy, wrapped in cellophane and attached (with a bow, naturally) to a giant, white “stick.” It’s amazing. It is the “parting gift” from a sweet shop inspired birthday party for a five year old.

Whaaaat?

How about the mother in my newsfeed who lamented about a friend of hers: “She set leprechaun traps and planted gold, sparkled footprints all over the house for St. Patrick’s Day. She’s making the rest of us look bad!”

Huh?

Maybe that lady has got nothing else going on in her life and she’s making the rest of us look sane. Ever thought of that?  

The whole competitive-parent thing is like a cheese grater on my maternal soul. As in all of life, “comparison” is the death of happiness.

I struggle, I do. I mean, here I am, of moderate intelligence and capability, my middle age providing a breadth of experience, and yet I often end up feeling like the gently stoned, perpetually inadequate mom when it comes to kid things.

Take the example of me attending a recent open house for the local Waldorf School. My kids were about to turn five so I was looking for them to start kindergarten  in the fall. This was January, so I thought I was all over it. September was 8 months away, right? As it turns out I am even funnier than I think I am! Mid way though the tour, the couple behind me asked a question about enrollment because…wait for it… they were “considering getting pregnant soon” (!!!!)

I actually belly laughed hard, causing slight alarm to everyone near.  Here was a couple still in the ‘we-are-the-bosses-of-us’ phase of their relationship, putting an imaginary kid they were "considering soon," on the waiting list for this school. I was delighted by my own idiocy. I was incredulous. At the couple for being so organized (or something), and at myself for being not-so-much. I mean, there are TWO of them. I required TWO kindergarten spots at this private school! Hahahahahahaaa. For that to happen, my kids needed to be on the list before they existed - and I am clearly not the person who does that sort of thing.

Needless to say they are going to the public school down the road from us. It’s perfect.

I just don’t try hard enough, I know. And you know what? I’m probably not going to start, either. Because ohmigod. Pool noodle "candies" and registering for stuff 5 years out!

No. I’ll continue to wince at my own lack and be stunned and impressed and inspired by what other moms are able to pull off and pull together. Then I’ll go ahead and throw a birthday party with delivered pizza, a bought cake and Paw Patrol gak purchased entirely from Party City in one pass.

*shrugs*

Mostly, I’m okay with it. It’s feeling like my kids might be missing out on a significant development opportunity because I’m not trying harder that’s tough. Like the friend who creates lesson plans for her three year old, complete with thematic baking, crafts, books and “sensory bins.” Every week! Lesson plans! And here I am all, “What the fuck is a sensory bin?”

My own mother, of course, thinks worrying about any of this is hilarious. I was raised in the 1970’s, and those were the days though, weren’t they? The closest thing I came to a sensory bin as a kid was blue shag carpet and a pile of dirt. And, she would argue, look at me now! I turned out perfectly fine! (ish)

“Parenting” wasn’t even a verb in the 70’s. It wasn’t something people “did.”  No, you either had parents or you didn’t. If you were alive at the end of each day, you had good parents. If you stayed out of jail and contributed moderately to society after the fact, you had really good parents.

There was no such thing as a “parenting style” or “parenting philosophy.” The style was “do as I say and stay out of the way” and the philosophy was “I’m the mom, and I do what works for me.” Consequently, like one friend’s mother, it wasn’t unusual for us kids to be locked outside through the day until she felt ready to let us back in. Sometimes this meant figuring it out for 3 or 4 hours at a time.

I’m not advocating a return to some imagined halcyon days of mothering. Despite the fact I can relate to the motivating sentiment behind the “lock-em-outside” mom, she was slightly crazed. There were sufficient problems with the 1970’s for sure (aerosol cheese, anyone?) but there was also an implicit understanding that kids are not only resilient, but they don’t actually require a whole bunch to thrive. They don’t need art therapy, weekly home-baked goods, seasonal craft projects or any other bit of whatever it is modern moms are feeling inadequate about for not doing. For the moms who do all of that and more for their kids? I hereby give up my judgement and anxiety about not measuring up. I give you only props, and commit to feeling nothing but happy for your kid with her sensory bin of swirly coloured rice filled with ears. Because I’m not even joking when I say that more kids need to be Van Gogh sensitized.

What kids need most, though, is what they have always needed. The most important stuff, the foundational stuff that’s created emotionally stable, successful, happy children throughout time is the same today as it's always been: unconditional love and acceptance, consistent boundaries. room to explore and take chances, an assurance you always have their back and lots of kisses and cuddles.

In my spacier, self-doubting moments especially, I really want to be able to bring it all down a notch. Me. Because the truth is that the kids don’t care if they go to a private school or eat a homemade cookie. Those expectations are parent-created. Rather, being present and providing simply will always be king. Water, dirt, cake: Done. Call it a "cave-man" theme and let 'em rip. Sprinklers and a sandbox - my kids would be thrilled! What? There might be presents too? Crazy. THAT kind of birthday party. And that kind of childhood