YOU AREN'T SPECIAL

It’s constant, isn’t it? Showering our kids with positivity and love. Letting them know what sets them apart, what makes them “special”. We tell them they can be and do whatever they want in life. That’s our job as parents: to build their confidence and help them succeed. But, where is the line between special and entitled? How do we teach our children to believe they have something that makes them unique while staying humble? Well, I tell mine they aren’t special.

Right now you’re probably thinking what I terrible mother I am that I would tell my kids they aren’t special! Maybe, or maybe I’m preparing them for life. I would be mortified if one day my child becomes an adult who says, “Do you know who I am?” or thought they were better than someone because of their appearance, finances, career choice, etc.

As a child, entitlement looks different than an adult. Sometimes they throw tantrums when they don’t get their way. Sometimes they compare themselves to other kids and feel they deserve better or more. Maybe they feel they don’t need to do chores or have any responsibilities. There are so many ways entitlement shows up in kids. My hope is to squash that before it gets out of hand and to do that, I make sure my kids know they aren’t special.

Let me clarify. My children are my world and there is nothing more special to me than each of them. I also believe each of them is uniquely special and I do remind them how much they have to offer as individuals. BUT, when I tell them how special they are to me, I remind them that they aren’t special outside of our home. They are just like everyone else and definitely no better and I say just that. I try to teach them not to expect, not to compare and not to be deterred by failure.

Failure. Growing up, it was my biggest fear. Did that make me entitled? Probably. I did expect things to always work out. When I was applying to colleges, I applied to one university because I believed I would get in. I was entitled but I was accepted which probably wasn’t helpful later when I moved to Boston to apply for Graduate School. In hindsight, I went to my interview expectant and overly confident. Guess what? I didn’t get in. My world crumbled because my only plan never had failure as an option. Every time I did experience a loss or didn’t get the result I expected, I felt defeated, unworthy and incapable. I want failure to drive my kids. I want them to learn from it so they are continuously pushing forward and wanting to work for more, even if it isn’t perfection. I want them to be better than me.

So what do I tell my kids? I remind them they are special to me, not the world. I tell them that they are no better than anyone else. I say to them that my hope is they will be imperfectly perfect. I encourage them to try even if they fail. When I mistake, I let them know I made a mistake and I own it. It’s good for them to see no one is perfect, not even me. While I give them periods of my undivided attention, I also let them know when I have other responsibilities and can’t focus solely on them. Eventually, they play together or individually. We talk about the hardships of others while focusing on kindness and empathy. I also remind them that while they don’t have everything they want, they have everything they need and for that, they are quite fortunate. I only hope this teaches them gratitude. I hope it’s all working, but I suppose I’ll find out sooner or later, hopefully before they’re grown.

What should you tell your kids? Well, I’m not qualified to tell you that and who knows if I’m doing it right. I just feel like we, as parents, don’t always discuss the hard things about raising kids. I’m hoping my transparency encourages more open discussions so we can empathize and learn from each other without judgement. I want to be a part of a village. A village with lots of cocktails, of course!