I’m done. I’m waving my white flag for this arena known as competitive parenting. Yes, I understand that we teach our children the importance of perseverance. When they want to quit soccer after just one practice, we encourage them to stick it out for the season. When they express a desire to abandon tae kwon do after we’ve invested in gear, we remind them to finish the session. But here’s the deal: I simply can’t keep up anymore. I’m officially resigning from this exhausting competition. Honestly, I’ve fallen so far behind that I doubt anyone will even notice.
From day one, I felt like I was lagging behind. The challenges of post-partum depression hit hard. I didn’t breastfeed. I let my children cry it out — and often I cried alongside them. I introduced whole milk before their first birthdays. We skipped baby sign language altogether and fed them sugary yogurt and fruit snacks (which, let’s face it, are like toddler candy). My oldest son’s baby book is a chaotic mix of random entries, while my second son doesn’t even have one.
As my children have grown, I continue to feel left behind. It seems that everyone else has it all figured out. Everyone else appears organized. Everyone else has all the right answers. Meanwhile, I’m weary, flustered, and feeling the strain in my legs. Can I just throw in the towel already?
What’s that? Competitive parenting isn’t a real thing, you say? No judgments here, you promise? Well, it may not officially be a race, but it certainly feels like there’s an unwritten guide on how to be the “perfect” parent that I didn’t receive when I left the hospital, utterly exhausted and terrified.
Here are just a few reasons I feel like I’m falling short in this game of competitive parenting (if anyone were actually keeping score):
- Concerts for Kids. During my oldest son’s preschool holiday concert, while other kids donned their festive best, mine wore a shirt that read “Monkey Trouble.” But hey, he dressed himself, so that counts for something, right?
- Family Meals. Our dinners mostly consist of mac & cheese (the neon orange kind), PB&J sandwiches, and pizza. Sure, baby carrots and strawberries make occasional appearances, but they’re not on the menu every night.
- Dressing Up. If my husband returns home and I’m not in pajamas or yoga pants, he questions if he missed a special occasion. My two boys resist anything with buttons, thriving instead in t-shirts and running pants. Matching outfits? Not a chance.
- Sports Participation. Sometimes I cheer, sometimes I clap, but mostly I simply observe from the sidelines. I don’t create banners or shout from the sidelines. I do manage to get my son to practice regularly and tell him he did a great job, which has to count for something, right?
- Halloween Attire. While Pinterest is flooded with inventive, handmade costumes, my kids tend to wear store-bought ones that I scramble to buy last minute. If they’re lucky, they might even get a hand-me-down from their brother’s past costumes.
- Birthday Treats. Forget about gluten-free, vegan, or low-fat cakes; if I remember to bring treats at all (a big if), they’re typically store-bought and loaded with sugar. But guess what? The kids love them!
- Arts and Crafts. While I appreciate the thought behind preschool art projects, I can only accumulate so many finger-painted masterpieces before they end up in the recycling bin. Glitter seems to multiply at an alarming rate, doesn’t it?
- Volunteering at School. I had grand visions of being a room parent, but when I organized a Halloween party, I realized I was woefully outdone by the other parents who went all out with decorations and activities.
- Family Outings. Our adventures typically consist of visits to Target or bike rides. I genuinely admire those parents who can manage trips to museums or aquariums — we’ve only been to such places once and I think that’s enough for a long while.
- Playground Dynamics. While I appreciate playgrounds for their ability to tire my kids out, they also remind me of high school cliques. I’m not one for small talk, especially after a day of nagging my kids about basic hygiene and manners. You’ll often find me on a bench, trying to catch my breath, occasionally checking my phone.
So, there it is — ten reasons why I feel like I’m losing in the competitive parenting arena.
I’m officially done. I’m drained and can’t keep this up any longer. To those of you still in the race, kudos to you. Keep doing what you do. For the rest of you who feel as worn out as I do, why not join me on this quiet bench in the shade? We can exchange smiles and nods, admire our incredible kids, and maybe even sneak a peek at our phones.
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In summary, I’ve decided to step back from the competitive parenting scene because it’s simply too much. I hope to inspire others to find their own peace in this journey.