Overachieving parents are making the rest of us look bad

On Valentine’s Day this year, I sent my toddler to preschool with little cards he had picked out at the drug store the weekend before. I helped him write the names of everyone in his class, he scribbled on the cards using crayons, and we stuck heart stickers on the envelopes.

But when my child came home from school that day and we emptied his small backpack, I was floored by what I saw: high-quality solid milk chocolates, handwritten cards, and red and pink loot bags filled with small toys, boxes of crayons and mini tubs of Play-Doh. Many parents had really gone above and beyond what I’d expect in a preschool class, and for better or worse, this might just be the new norm?

In the weeks leading up to any holiday, mom-fluencers on social media are often yapping about how to make things “extra special” for kids – whether it’s “boo baskets” for Halloween (as if trick or treating wasn’t enough), “love baskets” filled with cinnamon hearts and heart-shaped Jellycat stuffies for Valentine’s Day, or Easter baskets that include big presents like a new bike or scooter. I can appreciate wanting to make holidays whimsical for our kids, but overachieving parents really make the rest of us look (and feel) bad.

Without the pressures of social media, ‘90s parents didn’t have to worry about these sorts of things. Like most kids, my siblings and I got presents – Polly Pockets and Tamagotchis, Lisa Frank stationary and Koosh balls – at Christmas and birthdays. We brought homemade cupcakes made with Betty Crocker cake mix to school on our birthdays, and gave out loot bags with the typical dollar-store stuff, like slap bracelets and candy necklaces, to the kids who came to our parties.

Parents weren’t aware of what other families did for birthday parties, except for the ones they accompanied their kids to or dropped them off at. And certainly, there was no one “influencing” them into hiring an Elsa from Frozen impersonator, ordering a three tiered fondant-covered cake, and hanging a $100 balloon garland to mark their kid’s day of birth.

As kids, if we went to restaurants that didn’t have built-in entertainment, we were forced to face boredom and make our own fun. Sometimes that meant coming up with little games at the table, like I Spy and word associations, with our siblings. Other times, it meant sitting in relative silence with just our thoughts and imaginations.

I can’t help but think that dealing with boredom once in a while was good for us, especially in terms of spurring creativity. Needing to stay in our seat, wait for our food, and just engage with our surroundings – rather than an iPad or Nintendo Switch – was probably also good for stimulating certain parts of our brains.

On Halloween, there was no such thing as “boo baskets” but we would excitedly go trick or treating for hours in costumes handmade by my mom. (Was I Wednesday Addams for three years straight? Cara mia, yes.) And for Easter, we’d get to choose one large chocolate, usually a six-inch hollow egg filled with Smarties or other candies, from the grocery store to savor over a couple nights.

My parents let us pick out a box of themed cards to give to all our classmates on Valentine’s Day, but they never helped us write and decorate them, let alone create elaborate loot bags with small toys. As my mom would say, this was all kids’ stuff. And she didn’t meddle in kids’ stuff, let alone allow another parent to make her feel bad about not doing enough for her kids’ classmates.

With my preschooler’s birthday coming up, I’m leaning into the understated fun of a park party. We’ll grab a picnic table by one of my son’s favourite playgrounds, bring a couple extra outdoor toys and balls for his friends to enjoy, order pizza and a simple cake, and send everyone home with loot bags. It’s not that I don’t want to go the extra mile to make my son’s party “special,” it’s that I genuinely believe that for 3 year olds, that is special.

When Halloween rolls around, we’ll carve pumpkins and dress up in costumes to go trick or treating, but I won’t be making my kids “boo baskets.” If gift giving is your language and you take joy in making your kids “boo baskets,” or “love baskets,” or even Easter baskets, then do it. I’m choosing to take a cue from my mom’s ‘90s parenting textbook and letting my kids take the lead on kids’ stuff.