Remember when you learned about a baby’s “growth chart”? The first time the pediatrician measures your tiny child’s weight, length and head circumference can be stressful. It can also be confusing because it’s one of the few times when the 50^th percentile — or perfectly average growth relative to other babies of the same age — is the most desirable score.

Our firstborn had colic, so my wife and I developed an intense relationship with our pediatrician. Fortunately, he had a great sense of humor. During one of our “growth chart” appointments, we expressed concern that our daughter’s head was measuring large and her height was measuring small. He turned to us and said, “What’s the mystery? You’re short (motioning to my wife) and you have a big head (pointing to me).”

We just had to laugh. But nearly two decades since that growth chart panic moment, I realize his message had a larger meaning. We needed to grow as parents. Our journey had just started, and we were already falling victim to the tempting habit of comparing one’s child to other children and finding him or her lacking. Fortunately, our pediatrician explained that there is a “wide range of normal” physical development that most children experience. Only those cases that fall beyond that range tend to cause concern.

Too bad there isn’t an emotional growth chart for parents. Chances are most of us would start at the 95^th percentile for anxiety, fretting and hovering. But as we age, ideally, we could chart our progress toward calm, sensible and just-the-right-amount-of-oversight around the 50^th percentile. These full-grown parents understand that the “wide range of normal” for a child’s physical development also applies to a child’s emotional and moral development.

Such a growth chart for parents might also help us understand — or at least tolerate — other parents who annoy us. The ones who criticize other parents harshly just need to work on decreasing their “judgemental” percentile. The ones who overreact at Little League games just need to work on increasing their “self-fulfilled” percentile. At a minimum, as long as parents like these don’t go “off the chart,” we could accept that they are just part of the “wide range of normal” for parents who are still growing.

As parents grow, they also shrink

Parenting is humbling and requires much growth. For example, until that growth chart moment with our pediatrician, I did not consider my head big. In fact, despite my laughter,  I was a bit upset by the accusation. But after some emotional growing pains, I had to accept that he was right. (Unfortunately, I think about his gentle jibe every time I try on a new hat.)

Figuratively, there is nothing like the transition to parenthood to keep you from getting a “big head” ever again. As parents age, we experience the growing, ironic realization that we’re actually shrinking. In the baby days, we are in full control of our child’s environment, especially physically. But over the years our control shrinks, and all that is left is our immeasurable influence in the form of words, values, habits, memories and our own example.

That’s why it’s so important to put forth maximum effort every day and not take anything for granted. If we manage to do that, we might become wise grandparents someday, the ultimate full-grown parents.

Top photo: SurfaceWarriors on Foter.com / CC BY-SA

Am I a good parent?

I’m not.

I get irritated with my son far too easily.

I’m nearly 40 and he’s under 5; our energy levels rarely match up, our stress levels never match up. I know this and yet I allow myself to get aggravated far too often. I bark at him too frequently, I lose patience with him too easily, I find myself pawning him off on his mom too much. And I take the easy way out, racing him off to bed after a long day, speeding through the bedtime story, accelerating the nightly snuggle, just to get to that glass of wine and that latest episode and relax.

These are not things a good parent does.

Do I love my son? Of course. Do I have fun with him? Do I provide for him? Do I take care of him? How dare you. I have my good moments – we all have our good moments – but the good moments are easy. And that’s why they don’t count. We all love our kids. You don’t get points for that.

As a parent, you’re only as good as your worst moments. It’s the bad moments that impact you. It’s the bad moments that make you question yourself and make you try harder. It’s the bad moments that make you a better parent, because it’s the bad moments that you worry your kids will remember, and, of course, it’s the bad moments that they always do.

The quality of your parenting is reflected in your children’s behavior. That’s your gauge; that’s the only way you can tell how you’re doing. And when you see your kids adopting your bad behavior, when you realize they’ve absorbed and internalized you at your worst, that’s when you just know you’re not a good parent. (You also know when they start wanting to be Darth Vader.)

I see my son get easily frustrated; I hear him say something cold and sarcastic; I watch him lose patience and raise his voice, I witness him snap at Mom and Buried or Uncle Rob without provocation, and I know he’s learned it from watching me. And I know I’m not doing a good job.

I see his good qualities, too. His easy laugh. His eagerness to involve others. His intense curiosity and impressive ability to see through bullshit. When he says something funny and sarcastic. I attribute most of those to his Mom, but I like to think I’m responsible for some (mostly the sarcasm). And I do have the occasional hot streak. I’ll go stretches when I’m patient and caring and compassionate and helpful and understanding and firm without being shrill and everything is hunky dory.

Then I’ll have that one slip-up and I’m back to zero again. It’s a vicious cycle. It’s soul-sucking. It’s Sisyphus. Every day. Thankfully, you do get points for trying.

Because when all is said and done, being a good parent isn’t about throwing a perfect game. Or about some unattainable, abstract standard of “good.” It’s only about being good enough. For your kids. For your family. For your conscience.

Parenting isn’t about eliminating the bad moments, it’s about reducing them. It’s about recognizing and moving past them. It’s about getting back under that boulder and pushing it up the hill again. Every day.

Am I good parent? No. But that’s a good thing.

I’m not satisfied with my performance as a father, and I hope I never am.

A version of this first appeared on Dad and Buried.