Why Did I Do That?

Over the last few weeks, two of the bloggers I follow wrote about how women tend to downplay their strengths in order to be liked by others.  Apparently, we talk more about what we don't do well than celebrating our accomplishments.  If we do decide to share a success, following it up with a failure is par for the course.  Why do we do that? According to the bloggers, it's because women want other women to like them.  We worry that sharing our accomplishments will have the opposite effect.  We create a competition in our minds, even though one doesn't really exist.  Through Pinterest projects, facebook updates, Instagram photos, and blog posts, we see glimpses into each other’s lives and feel judged when what is happening in our own homes doesn't seem to match-up.  In our constant quest to be "liked" we worry about how our successes and failures are going to be perceived.  All of this got me thinking about my own habits.

Since entering motherhood, I have made a sincere effort not to compare myself to other moms.  It isn't going to do me any good to covet what other people have or feel badly because my craft project isn't the masterpiece I had envisioned. I also know that trusting my instincts and being confident in my decisions is the best thing for my children.  So, I may not compare myself to other moms, but I am careful about how I share what I share.  Sure, I may throw a perfectly color-coded party, but that's only a small part of who I am.  If I just used my blog to document accomplishments, I'd probably lose most of my readers. The struggles, missteps and ungraceful moments are what bond us.  The pretty moments are fun to share; the messy moments make me real.  I wake up every day wanting to be a better version of who I was yesterday.  Some days I triumph. Some days I fail miserably.  I have always been committed to sharing my experiences about both.

Where I struggle a little bit with all of this is with the girls’ accomplishments.  Months ago, a random parent at story time was shocked that my girls could identify all the letters on an alphabet poster.  She blurted out, "How do they know how to do that?"  I wasn't sure what the appropriate response was.  Why did I suddenly feel embarrassed?  I downplayed their accomplishment and even added a few examples of things they can't do.  Why did I steal their thunder?  The truth is: they just happen to love letters.  Once we noticed that the girls could identify a few, we started finding all kinds of ways to teach them more.  Since educational theory says you should always teach above what you think kids are ready for, we started seeing if they would pick up on letter sounds.  To our surprise, they think that's a bunch of fun, too.
 
So, the other night when I was asked if the girls know their letter sounds, why did I answer honestly that they do, but then completely sell myself short?  I gave Sesame Street all the credit.   Mate and I are intentional in our play with the girls and look for opportunities to teach them.  Educational toys and plenty of books surround the girls.  We love Sesame Street for introducing and reinforcing, but I'm pretty sure Mate and I can take some of the credit.  Why don't we?  Is it because we want to be liked?  Will our friends really stop liking us because we teach our children?  I doubt it.  I don't want my friends to compare their kids to mine because I don't worry when mine can't do something that their kids can.  My children aren't perfect. They aren't geniuses. They aren't on the verge of solving conflicts in the Middle East.  They just know their letter sounds and I suppose we can take credit for that.