We spend months preparing for the arrival of our little ones. For labor. For whether we will (or won't) "get the epidural." We prepare Baby's room. We wash all the teeny-ridiculously-cute clothes. Our friends throw us baby showers where we realize we don't know what a Nose Frida or a velcro swaddle is.
Then Baby arrives, and we spend sleep-deprived days (and nights) worrying about whether we're breastfeeding enough. About whether we've chosen the right car seat, stroller, and developmental toys to make sure our baby doesn't get behind on crawling, walking, talking and applying to college. We compare nap schedules, feeding schedules, weaning schedules and pumping schedules. We compare attachment parenting, helicopter parenting, tiger parenting, French parenting. We wage mommy wars, nanny wars, and body wars.
But all the theories, philosophies, and accoutrement aside—what does it mean to really be a "good" parent? Moms in 2012 seem to judge each other—and themselves—on whether or not they baked the most cupcakes at the bake sale, whether they balanced the most amount of commitments, whether they wrote a book and chaperoned the field trip and started a company and went on an extended tour of Italy and prepared back-to-back gourmet meals. I'm constantly wondering if I'm a good mom, even though I'm pretty sure that's a really unfair thing to ask of myself. Isn't "good enough" the motto of most moms everywhere, at least the ones who've spent any considerable amount of time wiping chocolate off the walls or apologizing to the patrons of a restaurant where their baby has just screamed bloody murder for an entire meal?
And what about that other meaning of the word "good"? What about that chubby-cheeked, blue-eyed child sitting across from me scarfing Cheerios and kicking his little feet up against the kitchen island? I spend a lot of time stopping myself from telling my baby that he's a good boy. I often pick a seemingly random but positive adjective like "thoughtful" or "patient," or even "thorough." But now that he's actually starting to understand—now that he's veering into toddler territory and is no longer my sweet little blob—how can I make sure that he's a good person? One who is nice to old ladies and hardworking and thoughtful, who gets good grades and doesn't copy essays off of Wikipedia? Who doesn't get a face tattoo or wind up in jail? Who sees past people's differences and finds the quiet strength to stand up for what's right? I can do what I can to make sure that if my kid falls off his bike, he's wearing a helmet, or if he hurts someone's feelings, he apologizes. But is that enough? How do I instill in him—really instill—a sense of right and wrong? How do I make him even better—kinder, more thoughtful—than I am myself?
If I could tell myself-one-year-ago one thing, it would not be which stroller was actually best (City Mini? Bugaboo?)—it would be to stop sweating about whether I pumped enough milk or when to start solids (four months? Six?!) It would be to start worrying about how to be a "good" parent. Whatever that means.
PHOTO CAPTION: Baby's first hair cut. He was extremely patient until the end, when he totally lost it and full-out wailed.
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