When is good enough, enough?

So long, perfect.

I had a gorgeously decadent afternoon tea with two close friends at the weekend. In between the smoked salmon sandwiches and the petit fours, we got on to the topic of parenting. One of my friends (let’s call her Friend A) was telling us she’d been watching an old episode of “SuperNanny” (millenials, all due respect - look it up) (and yes, I realise I’m totally flattering myself that anyone born after 1990 is reading this) and she said it made her realise what she’s doing “wrong.” Friend B nodded in agreement and made the requisite sympathetic noises whilst I almost spat out my Earl Grey in horror. Um, what?? Let’s discuss.

I have an issue with anyone feeling as though they’re getting parenting (or indeed, anything in life, really) “wrong”. Friend A is a loving, warm, thoughtful, kind mother whose children are well-mannered and engaging. In my mind, there’s nothing wrong with that. I replied that perhaps it’s not her doing anything wrong; no-one does the “right” thing all the time (do they?)

I for one want my children to grow up with a sense that it’s ok not to be perfect. More than that - it’s better not to be perfect. Perfection is a largely unattainable state which creates constant stress, pressure and more often than not, self-recrimination. Not only this, but it creates a cycle of pressure that nobody benefits from; an endlessly damaging narrative. Say Friend A “fixes” all her wrongdoing and becomes the perfect parent. Where does that leave the rest of us? With an unrealistic and damaging ideal to live up to. If she can do it, we should be able to as well - and if we can’t, we have failed.

Taking this a little further, if we never show our children any flaws, how can we possibly teach them how to deal with failure? I make mistakes. Frequently. Probably daily. They range from putting the wrong stuff in the recycling (sorry, husband - I don’t think I’ll ever be able to work it out) to saying the wrong thing to someone in public. I always unreservedly apologise when I’m wrong, and I’m really happy for my children to witness this. You say sorry, you make amends, you learn from it and move on (this doesn’t apply to you though, Boris.) I once heard a lovely saying that everyone has flaws and cracks, and these are what let in the light.

So the next time you feel like you’ve done something “wrong”, ask yourself - is it vital for you to have got that certain thing perfect? (I’m not advocating any kind of harmful carelessness!) Or can you live comfortably in the knowledge that it doesn’t really matter?

A very good therapist once told me, “you don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be good enough.” That’s good enough for me.