How Kids Need Something Better Than Perfect Lives

If it were possible, would you give your kids a perfect life? Or do they need something better?

Sitting on my faded blue chair in our back garden, clad in my pjs, at 7 o’clock this morning, savouring the relatively cool air that has now disappeared, I thought about how we put so much effort into trying to give our kids a perfect life.

We want to bring them up in beautiful, calm, peaceful homes filled with every possible resource. Should we buy a piano? We offer them music lessons so the piano doesn’t remain silent. What about a second instrument? A bedroom of their own? Should we join a homeschool group so our kids have friends? Can we afford to travel and expose our kids to unique experiences? We want to celebrate all the significant days in the year, like birthdays and Christmas, in memorable ways, extracting as much joy from them as possible. If we have a faith, we want to surround our kids with beautiful devotions. The Rosary? Why not say the Divine Mercy chaplet as well?

We work hard, pouring ourselves into our kids, attempting to be perfect parents, curating perfect lives, thinking that this is what they need.

Years ago, Andy and I moved with our family to a cottage in the middle of nowhere. Before we left our home in our small town, I imagined the life we would soon live. I saw girls dressed in pretty patchwork frocks with frilly white socks and sturdy boots. (Strangely, I didn’t imagine my boys in any particular clothes.) My kids would bake bread, grow vegetables, build things, collect eggs and chase chooks. They’d be free and wild (but in a picturesque way). We’d have a perfect self-sufficient life, a life that these days we could describe as Instagram-worthy.

People thought we were crazy to set out on this adventure, and soon, I was inclined to believe they were right. The cottage was small with only two bedrooms – we had five children at the time. It was rundown and full of rats and mice. Next to the cottage was a water tank that was often empty because rain never fell on the dusty land. Life was difficult. It certainly wasn’t perfect. My imaginings had been romantic, not realistic.

Eventually, after trying to repair and decorate the cottage, acquiring two cats to chase the rodents and ordering carrier after carrier of water to fill our tank, we declared our country adventure a failure. We moved back to town, thinking, “That was a stupid idea!”

A few years ago, enjoying coffee in a cafe with my son Callum, he shared his dreams as he always does. He told me about bumping over grass on a motorcycle while rounding up cattle on a friend’s farm. “One day, Mum, I want to buy my own property.” Callum would like some sprawling acres of land with no close neighbours, a place to keep a few cows, and a shed for working on his cars. There’ll be some wild bush with kangaroos like the ones that used to live with us when we dwelt in the rundown cottage.

“Do you know what gave me a love of the country, Mum? It was living in that cottage when I was seven. That was a great place to live!”

A great place to live?

It seems our kids don’t see life the same way we do.

Just before our cottage adventure came to an end, we discovered that our unborn baby, who was supposed to have turned our family into the Brady Bunch, was unlikely to live after birth. Joy dissolved away. Life became dark grey. I’d lost control of our lives.

This morning, before the heat built up and the gusty wind arrived, turning today into a severe bushfire risk day, I pondered the thought that imperfection leaves room for kids. We need their input, their interaction, their unique eyes on the world. We should allow space for them to grow, learn about forgiveness and feel compassion. They need to be part of things, and to work with us through the inevitable messiness of life.

Yes, mess. However much we try to make life perfect, we will fail. We can’t control everything. It’s just as well that perfection isn’t what kids need.

Unless a perfect life includes a home that’s a safe place where everyone accepts us, picks us up when we fail, helps and encourages us, and inspires us to dream big.

Of course, we might fail to create that perfect imperfect place. But that’s okay.

I learnt something important from those uncomfortable months in the cramped cottage. As we buried our son, and I looked back at a very difficult year, I realised that there’s something far more important than a perfect life. It’s unconditional love. That’s what kids really need. They can survive quite nicely with not much else.

Would my kids agree? Do they complain that I wasn’t a perfect mother? Is that what they would have liked? Did I not give them what they needed? I don’t know. I just hope they realise how much I love them. No one (apart from God) loves them more than me.

Is Our Unschooling Life Rich Enough?

You could read my story, Is Our Unschooling Life Rich Enough?, if you’d like to find out more about our cottage adventure.

Are We Living a Second Best Kind of Unschooling Life?

Or you could listen to the podcast version.

Why We Have No Choice But to Trust

Here’s a post for my fabulous Buy Me A Coffee blog supporters!

Why We Have No Choice But to Trust

Unschooling Principles

Photos

A couple of images from Christmas 2019, a messy, imperfect Christmas due to a bushfire which was burning out of control over our garden fence.

So, what do you think? Are we fooling ourselves, excusing poor parenting, when we say perfection isn’t necessary? Or is there really something more important that kids need?