Good Enough
Starting solids, being in the thick of a first draft, and become a solid “C” student
You have to know something about me. I loved getting good grades. When asked what my favorite part of first grade was, I didn’t say “recess” or “free time” like everyone else. No, I said “seat work.” That’s right. I loved getting worksheets and using my sharp pencils to fill them out. Practicing cursive was my jam. I liked to help my seat mate with his worksheets once I finished mine.
In junior high and high school, I wasn’t overly stressed about achieving—it was just who I was. It didn’t the matter the subject, I would do whatever I had to do to master the material and get an A. Then Honors Pre-Calc happened. I had muddled my way through geometry somehow, but pre-calc I couldn’t grasp. I ended up getting a C on my report card (I can’t remember if it was a C+ or C-, though I’m sure my mom does. Betsy? Want to chime in in the comments?). I was only a smidge devastated. Mostly, I was relieved. Many of us perfectionists have this story.
When it came time for me to be in front of the classroom, my feelings towards grades radically changed. Now, I think they’re a load of crock. I taught at the high school and collegiate level for the past eight years, and with each passing semester I dreaded giving and inputting grades more and more. I simply didn’t believe that they were a useful measure of intelligence or effort or skill, and they seemed to exist only to create arbitrary hoops through which students had to jump at best and a soul-crushing anxiety or disdain for curiosity at worst. In the words of Ariana Grande, thank u, next.
But what was weird was that this “achievement” and “grades” mentality still permeated my life, even though I shared with my students that I thought we put too much stock in grades. I couldn’t shake it. This need to…get an A. In…life? How odd.
A few months into my pregnancy, I was zombie-level tired and I couldn’t remember anything. An avid reader, I couldn’t stand the thought of a book. TV barely held me either. I cried to my husband one day, saying, “I don’t feel like myself. I feel like a C student!” Thank god he laughed at me. Then I laughed, too.
I relayed this anecdote to my boss during one of our one-on-ones in the months before my maternity leave. She nodded and said that I would have to learn to accept doing C-level work in all facets of my life; it’s just what happened when you had a kid. I’ve had similar conversations with friends—what would happen if I gave this task 75% instead of 100%? Turns out, it’s usually just fine.
I don’t know where this desire to achieve came from—certainly not from my parents. I don’t think they cared at all that I got C-something on my report card. I don’t even remember their reaction, so that must tell you something. But now that I have a baby, and I recognize this achievement streak in myself, I’ve got to keep figuring out how to be okay with good enough. Because I do not want him to feel the burden of needing to better than good or even okay. Because honestly, what is the point of being the best at something when you could have gone outside and smelled some flowers and jumped in a puddle and felt alive on this earth? More puddle-jumping, please.
Which brings me to solids. In the age of social media, it’s easy for comparison to make you feel like a sub-par person and parent. I follow a number of social media accounts about baby-led feeding and whoa! These are soooo helpful, but could also be intimidating if you let them. Some of these dishes of baby foods are beautiful—colorful and varied, a mixed of baked and sautéed, full of things I would happily eat. Instead of measuring what I have the capacity to prepare against these works of art, I employ the C mindset. Is Bodie getting to try a new food? Is he being introduced to an allergen? Are these sticks of watermelon the right size and shape so they aren’t a choking hazard? Good enough. Am I missing a day or two of solids because we just aren’t feeling up to it? Oh well, we’ll try again soon. Good enough. When Bodie mushes the scrambled egg “stick” I’ve made him between his hands instead of his gums, I say, “Okay! Good! That’s great for today.” And so I try to praise myself for “good enough,” too. I got the scrambled egg to the plate. I didn’t get any other foods there that day, but that’s okay.
Honestly, the minute I see some of these mom-fluencers pull out their food processors, I ask myself: what’s the C version of this?
I’m bringing that same energy to my novel in progress. When I write a real clunker of a sentence, I say, “Okay, good enough. I can fix it later.”
Even these newsletters—I have lost count of how many times I’ve started and stopped this single newsletter because Bodie needed something or I needed to attend to my own needs. Creating this newsletter is an awesome way for me to practice “good enough” and to lose preciousness about my own writing. There simply isn’t time for me to hone each word, which is what I would usually do if writing an essay I’d send out on submission. But I want to write these thoughts down, and I want to share these bits and pieces of my thinking and my life, and so “good enough” it is.
One final thought—“good enough” has two important words in it that we should practice saying to ourselves. So, in case you’ve been chasing A’s when you could have been chasing C’s, chill out a little and remember: You are good. And you are enough.
I love how this post talks about embracing 'good enough' in all aspects of life. It's a refreshing perspective on achievement and parenting. Excellent work! 🌟👏