For weeks, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of frustration. My child with special needs was having a tough time managing their emotions and expressing their feelings verbally. To be honest, I felt utterly defeated. My usual parenting strategies were falling flat, and stress was piling up.
Many well-meaning friends suggested enrolling my child in martial arts classes, claiming they foster discipline, respect, and confidence. At first, I dismissed the idea, but curiosity got the better of me, and I called a few local studios. Each place insisted on a commitment of twice-weekly practices and weekend tournaments. I tuned out when the studio owners began discussing belt rankings and group meditation. I started to wonder: is there something inherently wrong with my child that needs fixing through more scheduled activities, or are societal expectations of parenting the real issue here?
A week later, while waiting in line at a café, a couple struck up a conversation with my eight-year-old daughter about sports. She mentioned her drum lessons and her past basketball experience. “Really? No sports?” the man questioned. The woman then asked my other children the same. My oldest revealed her disinterest in sports, my son was only focused on his favorite show, and my toddler, the youngest, had zero extracurriculars—her main activity being to trail her siblings and cause mild chaos.
This situation highlights a common yet awkward aspect of modern parenting: the pressure to fill our children’s lives with activities. Each time I meet another parent—whether at the park, school drop-off, or birthday parties—the question arises: “What activities are your kids involved in?” This often feels like a competition to see who does the most for their children.
The role of parents seems to have shifted from nurturing well-adjusted individuals to raising exceptionally talented, well-rounded children who are expected to identify their strengths early and excel. We all know this relentless race is exhausting, yet we persist, driven by societal norms.
My children’s worth is not determined by how many activities they’re involved in or their behavior on any given day. They have always been remarkable, regardless of how we measure success. The pressure to perform—whether in individual pursuits or team environments—constantly looms over them. There’s an unspoken expectation for children to always be “on,” always achieving, and this has led to a culture of unrealistic standards.
Chore charts have become extreme; either we inundate our kids with tasks or we let them off the hook entirely, with no middle ground. We either want to teach them responsibility or coddle them, believing they can postpone learning life skills until adulthood.
Then there’s the dreaded behavior management systems in classrooms, where kids are penalized for merely being human. When did we decide that children—whose brains are still developing—must maintain an impossible level of composure? Why can’t we celebrate mediocrity if that’s the best they can do at the moment?
In our quest to raise the “best” kids, we often overlook the incredible individuals they are right now. I find myself asking how we can break free from this cycle of over-scheduling.
I admit, I’ve been ensnared in the “more is better” mentality. With four children ranging from a toddler to a tween, I’ve felt the urge to enhance their education beyond school with various activities. I even created a color-coded chore chart that we’ve long abandoned. I’ve experienced pangs of mom guilt when receiving notes about minor behavioral slip-ups.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with fostering well-roundedness in our kids or allowing them to pursue a passion. The plethora of extracurricular options available today is a blessing. But as our family grew, I realized we needed to set limits. First, I accepted that my kids would mess up—daily—and that’s perfectly normal. Mistakes are part of life. I also enforced a one-activity-at-a-time rule per child, which helps us manage our time and budget.
Our lifestyle may be countercultural; my kids aren’t booked from dawn until dusk. Instead, they have ample unscheduled time to play outside or even engage with the toys we own. Saturday mornings are for sleeping in and enjoying pancakes; Sundays are for church, inviting friends over for dinner, and visiting the library.
Do I question our slower pace? Sometimes. I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. Are my kids going to be okay? What if they don’t turn out to be high achievers? But then, I came across a meme that reminded me: my children are already wonderful. My oldest is organized and compassionate. My middle child is funny and athletic. My son is full of energy and kindness. And the baby? She’s always ready to share a laugh or a cuddle. Sure, they have their moments—after all, with four kids, there’s always someone having a rough day. But that’s just life.
Their greatness doesn’t stem from the number of activities they participate in or their behavior on any given day. They have always been exceptional, long before and long after music lessons, tantrums, sports events, and homework mishaps.
Like many parents, I strive to raise good humans. But part of that journey involves appreciating who they are in this moment.
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Summary:
In the quest to raise exceptional children, we often overlook their inherent greatness. The pressure to keep kids busy with activities can overshadow the joy of simply appreciating who they are right now. Setting boundaries and embracing a slower pace allows families to nurture their kids without the burden of societal expectations.
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