• Growing up, I wasn't valedictorian, but I strived for perfectionism.
• Now that I'm a parent, I don't want my son to want to be the best at everything.
• I want him to be happy above all things.

In high school, I was never in the running to be valedictorian, captain of any sports team, or president of any club. Even so, I was no stranger to certain markers of perfectionism that were just a bit less boldfaced.

I often felt weighed down by the looming dread of coming tests, even if I knew the material backward and forwards. I'd go to school when I felt sick so I could avoid missing something important and then falling behind. I'd feel exhausted by the juggle of extracurriculars, but paring back didn't feel like a viable option — I was no quitter. And I was concerned about being a great and supportive friend who always showed up and said and did the right thing.

But now that I'm a parent, I don't want my child to do the same as I did.

It's not bad to be a perfectionist

None of these qualities are bad — hey, striving to be a great friend is a great thing. Caring about what I do, being dependable, and having a conscientious stake in the way I impact others are attributes that have, for the most part, benefited me in my career and personal life. However, being steadfast in these values has also led to a perfectionist mentality that doesn't serve me.

The American Psychological Association defines perfectionism as "the tendency to demand of others or oneself an extremely high or even flawless level of performance, in excess of what is required by the situation." Historically, that has tracked for me, but as a parent of a toddler, I've grappled with my inclination toward the high standards I demand of myself and those closest to me. Because, frankly, I don't want my son to concern himself with being the best. And I definitely don't want him to expect perfection from his loved ones.

I want him to be happy, to make smart and thoughtful choices, to be a compassionate friend, to work hard, and to be kind to himself. Crucially, I want him to be open to the growth that comes from making mistakes rather than being stuck in feelings of self-loathing when he inevitably missteps.

I know I'm modeling behaviors

So, I'm working to welcome my own missteps and actively eschew any notions of personal perfection. I know that modeling behaviors is one of the most effective ways parents (even if passively) teach their kids. Research shows that children as young as infants take cues from behaviors and patterns modeled to them, which is sometimes called "observational learning." Essentially, kids and babies are sponges, and if I can help it, I'd like to help my little sponge learn how to be his best, most resilient self — which does not mean collecting every A+, gold star, trophy, or accolade.

With that in mind, I'm learning to be kind to myself and abandoning even a subconscious intention to be a perfect role model — someone who deftly excels at work and in her personal life at all times, who consistently makes time for both exercise and sleep, who is always patient, measured and responsive rather than reactive. If my son never sees me get frustrated, I'm not helping him develop the tools that'll help him regulate his emotions when he experiences a tough situation that elicits a range of feelings beyond those that are comfortable, positive, happy, or neutral.

Even so, I absolutely want the best for him, which means near-constant wondering and worrying about whether or not I'm exposing him to a wide enough range of hobbies, correctly encouraging — but not forcing — him to try new foods, buying toys he likes that are also educational, letting him have too much screen time, and the list goes on. I may not be able to stop endlessly wrestling with thoughts about his well-being, and I'm not sure if that qualifies as perfectionistic pondering.

What I am sure about is my aim to be the best parent I can be to my child. But I've realized that my version of being the best parent is a far cry from being a perfect parent. Perfection is limiting, suffocating, and bland. Striving for an ever-evolving "best for me" framework is my preference. And when I mess up, I'll be happy for my son to observe as I'm hopefully able to stop, notice, reflect, and move forward in a more aligned way.