Parenting Performance Review

There are no performance reviews or report cards in parenting. Generally speaking, in a job we get periodic reviews to let us know where we have room to improve and where we are excelling. In parenting, no such thing exists. I was told once in a review that I “need to learn to follow the grain.” You can imagine how that went over with me.

Not only do children not come with a how-to book of instructions, there are no periodic reviews to check in to see how we are doing as parents. Most days I feel like I am average at best. We see some crazy characters in the news and on television, so when compared to Alice Cooper or Penelope Blossom in Riverdale, I’m an extraordinary mom. But I really shouldn’t set my bar that low. There are very few days when I pump my fist high in the air and cheer for myself. My self talk never involves exclaiming, “Wow, Mom, you did a bang up job today!” There are no moments of encouragement or a jolly pat on the back telling me I rock.

Children are quick to tell you when you are doing a shitty job and they hate you. This is especially true in the teenage years. I remember this vividly myself. I have not yet hit that milestone, but I do hear my sons cuss at me under their breath time to time. Funnily enough, it corresponds with when I take away their phones. One of the boys even called Mac Daddy an a$$hole to his face the other night. That was a proud parenting milestone. That stuff is not mentioned in the What to Expect books. Someone tell me why there isn’t a teenager version of this book.

There are friends, of course, who tell us when we’re doing a great job and give us a boost when we need a little love. But there are no check-ins to see if we are doing well. No one tells us where we have room for improvement. I suppose we fear that level of honesty among friends. For the most part, any time there is feedback, it seems to be more criticism than constructive. This is particularly true when it’s our spouse giving the feedback. Amirite?

When I was in the corporate world we had a performance tracking system called TLSR – Try, Learn, Share, Results. I need peer mentoring groups to guide me through the teenage years. I try. Sometimes I learn (when I’m not being stubborn or righteous). The problem is I don’t share. We are ever so protective of these tender teenage years, so there is little to no sharing of best practices and confessions. We are slow to admit our fragility and vulnerability. Gone are the days of potty training tips and napping commiseration. I don’t share much about my sons’ struggles, or even triumphs. I share when I’m feeling frustrated or exasperated, but never with any details, lest I out my sons or admit to my own shortcomings. I don’t even know what the results of all this trying and learning are because my heartstrings are so frayed and my brain so frazzled that I can’t keep track of what I’m doing on the front lines of parenting.

I feel like I’m living the life of Sisyphus these days. Lather, rinse, repeat. Time is a gift that I take for granted. I need to lighten up and not worry so much about my performance as a mother. My sons are good kids. They are smart and witty and sarcastic as hell (I count this as a virtue.). They are engaged in their world and well-mannered, minus that a$$hole incident…ahem. I worry constantly about protecting them from adverse childhood experiences (ACEs), of which I carry my fair share. This admittedly makes me a slightly neurotic mother. Alas, puberty coupled with perimenopause results in a maelstrom of hormones storming through this house, so none of us is spared neurosis right now. I mean this in the vernacular, not the clinical sense, of course.

Most of the time I flounder and am happy when I kiss my sons goodnight, knowing we made it another day, healthy and for the most part, happy. It’s been over 15 years, and I still don’t know what I’m doing. I fret a lot. I hover. I have admittedly insane standards. I have a paucity of patience but an abundance of love. Alas, while there are no performance reviews or report cards in parenting, I figure I am doing better than passing. I’m not going to worry about where that bar is set or what other moms are doing. In my little nest, the kids, and their mom, are alright.