Perfectionism

As a teenager, I studied a lot about birth order. I thought it was fascinating that so much of who we are can come from our position in a family. In my study, I learned that first born children tend to be perfectionists.

I also learned that these things can compound, generationally. Sydney, for example, is our first born. Jeremy and I are also first born. All four of Sydney's grandparents are first born. Which means that Sydney is being raised by two perfectionist-tending first borns who were also raised by perfectionist-tending first borns.

That's a lot of pressure.

Jeremy and I try to be cognizant of these tenancies and go against that perfectionist trend as much as we can, but it's still there.

I mention this because sometimes admitting a thing is the first step to doing better and I really don't want to put that pressure on Sydney and I especially don't want Sydney to have that "nothing's good enough" feeling that children of perfectionists often feel.

When I was a teenager, and I had that "nothing's good enough" feeling, my dad actually found an article in the paper about perfectionism and the article had this anecdote about a young man whose mother sent him two sweaters, one blue and one orange. When he went to visit her, he wore the blue sweater. She met him and the airport and the first thing she said after she hugged him was, "I guess you didn't like the orange one."

It's funny but true. I have taken several pictures over the last few years of Sydney and Jack wearing the clothes my mother has bought. I also make a point to have them wear the clothes she has bought when I know she's going to be seeing them. She's the only one I do this for and I do it to say, "Thanks for buying the kids these clothes."

The other day, though, she commented that Sydney was finally wearing something she bought. I thought I had been putting Sydney in the clothes she bought a lot, and had even taken special pictures somewhat recently to showcase an especially cute black and white dress. When I pointed that out, my mother explained that yes, she had seen those, but this time Sydney was wearing the dress "just 'cause" and not just for a special picture and that told her that I must like the outfit.

Sometimes you can't win.

I didn't try to argue or explain myself. I didn't try to point out that a lot of the special clothes she buys are church clothes and most people don't snap candid shots at church. I didn't point out that I myself am sad that I forgot to get some pictures of Sydney in the precious red and white polka dot dress she wore last summer or the pink and brown that she wore to church so often when she was about two. I didn't say any of these things for two reasons. The first was that I knew what she meant: I must have really liked the dress that Sydney wore to the museum because I put her in it not for a special occasion or because my mother was in town. And secondly, I watched my mother go through this same process with her own mother and although I occasionally have this "nothing's good enough" battle with my mother, it is nothing compared to what her own mother (who was technically a first born herself) put her through.

I thought of all of this today because I dressed the kids for church this morning in the coordinating black and white outfits my mother bought and then had Jeremy and me dress to match. I thought we all looked so cute and I wanted to take a picture. Then I thought, "Will Mother think I'm taking a picture just to placate her or will she know I liked these clothes so much that I dressed me and Jeremy to match, took a picture at church and am printing a copy to hang on the wall?"

I'm not sure what she would have thought just seeing the picture. Knowing she will probably read this, I hope she understands what I'm saying because I really do appreciate the clothes she buys and most of them are absolutely precious.

But if she doesn't, I'll know it's her own mother's voice in her head telling her that this isn't good enough and if she does understand, it will be because she is able to remember feeling this way as a young mother herself and do better by me as a grandmother.

Because that's what we all do. Learn from our parents, the good and the bad, and try to do better.

I'll forgive my mother for her comment because I know at the heart of it, she was really saying, "I know you liked the others, but you must have really liked the one in the candid shot," just like the mother in the newspaper article must have been saying "You must have liked the blue more than the orange."

It's what we first borns do. We sometimes see the glass as half empty and focus on the minutia instead of just going with the flow. We look for the imperfections because that's what we want to fix. And since life is filled with imperfections, perfectionists can be really unhappy people.

More to point, though, I know that the relationship between a perfectionist first born mother and a perfectionist first born daughter can be particularly difficult as neither lives up to their own expectations or the expectations set by the other. I know my mother succeeded in doing better by me than her own mother did by her and my goal is to learn from my mother's example and do even better by Sydney.

I would then add that Sydney should therefore be able to do even better than me; in fact, I did originally type a sentence much to that affect, but I had to do a rewrite as I realized it was a lot of pressure, expecting Sydney to be that perfect....

It's a hard cycle to break.

But knowing how much my mother did to break it herself, I feel that I can go the extra steps to do my part in this generation.