The burden of perfection

There is, sometimes, such a thing as too good.

I used to have Frances's little lion chair set up with a stepstool placed beside it to hold snacks and drinks when she is watching a dvd. This ended on a day in the winter when we were both ostensibly home sick, yet Frances had, as always, a seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy. She was suspending herself off the big comfy chair beside her little set up, kicking her merry feet, and knocked her glass of apple juice all over the floor. Then she did it again.

I was tired and sick and did not want to drag myself off the couch to mop apple juice off the floor (again) and decided that we were going to get rid of the stepstool. (It wasn't the first time this had happened, just the first time this had happened twice in one day when I happened to be sick.) Her snacks and drinks could go beside her lion chair on the floor. Then they would be out of range of her feet when she was on the big comfy chair. I was, I'll admit, snappish and waspy when delivering this information to her--that's it! It's going, I'm getting rid of this thing, I'm not mopping any more apple juice off the floor because of this stepstool!--but the worst that was directed at her was that she should be more careful of where she was kicking.

This was several months ago and she still periodically assures me that she will never knock the apple juice over again.

It is, I think, a combination of traits: a high level of sensitivity, a very good memory, an eagerness to please which makes her miserable whenever anyone is unhappy with what she has done, and a blooming perfectionism relating to her own behaviour. She is determined to be flawless; then everyone will love her and be happy with her and she can be happy too.

It is the hardest thing about being her mother.

Now, I know that all my mother-readers are dealing with temper tantrums, a desire not to please, what seems like deliberate obtuseness, and so on; and so dealing every day with a child who is bound and determined to behave perfectly does not seem like such a great trial, and it does make the day-to-day management of the household much easier. But it can't possibly be healthy for her.

I ask myself if I am doing anything to contribute to this, and the answer is no, I don't think so. At least I can't think of anything. I try to be cheerful and stable around her; on the rare occasions that I'm not and she tries to comfort me, I thank her and tell her that it isn't her job to make me feel better. (Including headaches and stomach bugs.) If I snap at her, I apologize and tell her that it wasn't her fault; I've tried to reassure her all along that the divorce had nothing to do with her. I do everything I can to support her relationship with her father. I listen whenever she wants to tell me how much she misses him, and how she loves him most. I don't tell her everything will be all right or she will feel better soon; I let her be sad whenever she needs to be. I reign myself in constantly in those rare instances when she approaches misbehaviour: when she whines or stalls or doesn't listen, which is as bad as it gets, the most I've ever had to do is count to three. Even that is often very upsetting for her. All the while I'm telling her that even when I am upset at something she's done, I still love her more than anything; and yet she still acts as if she believes that love will be withdrawn from her and she will be abandoned if she is not perfect.

When, the other night, she was not listening to me and putting her pyjamas on, and I counted to three and she still didn't listen so lost her bedtime story, and I put her to bed, the first thing she said to me the next morning when I woke her up for school, even before "good morning," was, "I promise I will listen to you today, Mummy. Do you love me, even when I don't listen?"

The burden of perfection is far too great for her thin shoulders, but how do I get her to put it down?

The literature on children and divorce presupposes a normal child--an obstinate and wilful creature who frequently and joyfully experiences anger. I was told to expect regression, difficulties with potty training, tantrums, problems sleeping, regression in language abilities, feeding problems.

"Preschoolers can display a wide range of emotional behaviour in a short time. Anger is the most common way for preschoolers to show pain and distress. Hitting, kicking, throwing things, pinching and spitting at other children are common ways for young children to express anger. ...

"Fearfulness is also a sign of anxiety or tension in preschoolers, particularly when it is in response to events the child used to feel comfortable with. Troubled preschoolers may also show sadness, withdrawal or lack of energy." http://www.phac-aspc.gc.ca/publicat/mh-sm/divorce/4_e.html

But Frances is not a normal child. She just rolled with the punches and kept on going, a little sadder and more subdued sometimes. She misses her Daddy and her old house. Sometimes she has nightmares that he came to get her, and then left again. They wake her in the middle of the night, inconsolable. I miss her old nightmares about dragons who burn her up.

"Despite their considerable physical and emotional achievements, preschoolers have a limited ability to understand separation and divorce. For example, because they understand relationships in self-centred terms, children may feel that they are the cause of certain events. Children often believe that a parent's worries and anxieties, and perhaps even the divorce itself, are their fault....

"Children may think that they are being abandoned by their mother, unloved by their father or that they are being punished for angry feelings....

"Children experience a significant loss when one parent is less involved in their lives. Not only will they often miss that parent's presence and affection, but some of their physical and emotional needs may not be met. They often have overwhelming fears that both parents will leave them."

I wonder, sometimes, if that is why she so needs to be perfect. Why those tiny words, those little grains, lodge so deeply and stick in her memory for months. Does she think she is being punished, that she was bad? Is she afraid that she will lose one of us for real if she is not good? If so, where did it come from? Does she really think that if she doesn't listen to me for a few minutes I will stop loving her?

"Personality is a major factor in development and plays an important role in a child's reaction to divorce. By the time children are 3 to 5 years of age, most parents can recognize the ways their children cope with stress. Some children sulk, others 'talk back' or get angry, still others become overly submissive or obedient."

I remember when she was a baby with reflux and everyone else seemed to think she was difficult, that her crying was temperamental, but I could tell that she was actually a very happy baby who only cried when she was in pain. Sure enough, when the reflux got better and she learned to sleep on her own, the crying stopped almost overnight. Ever since she has been that unnervingly obedient, well-behaved, happy, sociable, affectionate little girl I write about so often. So I'm not claiming that the divorce or our reactions to it or the way I parent or Erik parents are solely responsible for her continual struggle to be perfect. But I worry that the sensitivity and the good memory and the desire to please have made it very easy for my particular little girl to blame herself for what happened, believe she is being punished and be terrified that if she is not always good from now on, she will lose one of us forever.And how do I know? How do I look inside that beautiful little blond head of hers to see whether she is really just the most resilient and naturally well-behaved child who has ever existed, or if locked in there somewhere is a void saying it's all my fault?

Posted by Andrea at June 26, 2008 9:57 AM under Mothers and Anti-Mothers , Single Momming

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