If there’s anythingI avoid and generally avoid pretty well, it’s failure.
It’s not that I never fail (I wish), it’s more like I’m so afraid to fail that I rarely try things that involve the potential to fail. That’s some kind of living, Mommyfriend! Don’t I know it, friends.
So with all my practice not failing, it’s understandable that I’d have a hard time allowing my kids to fail. I know failure is a part of life, a big huge-no avoiding it-you better get used to it sort of life thing, but I struggle. I want to help my kids when I can, and if that means cushioning the blow of soul-crushing failure, I want to be able to do that. But at what cost?
Since the beginning of Boy Wonder’s academic career, I’ve been a huge support that somehow transformed into a crutch as the academics became more challenging and the expectations soared. He relied on me to keep him organized, teach him when he didn’t pay attention in class, force him to study for upcoming exams, and generally make sure he was on the right path. I called fellow parents when I didn’t understand assignments, swooped in to save him more often than I should have, and ultimately, all my “help” hurt our relationship…[read more]