My kids have been sneaking onto YouTube again.
I know this because lately her expectations for our family have become slightly unreasonable.
Sadie would like to take twelve friends to the mall, give everyone as much money as they need to buy the perfect sneakers, and then have the entire group plan a trip to California together.
It doesn’t seem to concern her that she is thirteen.
Or that none of them can drive.
Apparently transportation is just one of those minor details adults obsess over.
She would also like a few kangaroos.
A few.
Because apparently one kangaroo would be depressing.
Then she wants to host a paintball fight, followed by an enormous backyard party for all her friends.
Preferably tomorrow.
I blame the YouTube families.
You’ve seen them.
Every video begins with:
“WE HAVE A HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT!”
Which means you had better keep watching for eleven minutes while they make pancakes, chase the dog and repeatedly remind you:
“Don’t forget to click and subscribe!”
Eventually, the huge announcement arrives.
They’re going to the mall.
Beautiful parents. Beautiful children. Beautiful dogs that have apparently never eaten a sock or thrown up on a rug.
They live in houses large enough to require their own zip code.
Every day is somebody’s birthday.
Every breakfast has a theme.
Every shopping trip ends with fourteen new outfits, six toys and a child shouting, “BEST DAY EVER!”
In our house, “Best day ever” usually means nobody cried at Target.
These children, somewhere between five and fourteen... have entire episodes devoted to buying makeup, opening toys, choosing clothes, preparing for vacations and hosting parties inside living rooms large enough to accommodate a small village.
And I’m trying not to judge.
Okay.
I’m judging a little.
Because Sadie watches this and believes this is how families actually live.
She sees the kangaroos.
She doesn’t see the camera crew.
She sees the party.
She doesn’t see the planning, editing, sponsorships or the exhausted parent whispering through clenched teeth:
“Everybody smile or nobody gets Wi-Fi for a month.”
It reminded me of the day one of my children showed me another perfect family online and asked:
“Dad… why can’t we live like that?”
I smiled.
Then I announced I needed coffee.
I’ve never needed coffee less.
Because I didn’t know how to explain that we were comparing our ordinary Tuesday to somebody else’s professionally edited Thursday.
And that’s the part that worries me.
Our children aren’t only comparing houses, toys and vacations.
They may be comparing our love to somebody else’s production budget.
They may begin to believe that a happy family is always going somewhere, buying something, opening something or surprising somebody with three llamas and a waterslide.
Meanwhile, their own family is standing right in front of them.
Tired.
Imperfect.
Paying bills at the kitchen table.
Reheating leftovers.
Searching for the remote someone is definitely sitting on.
Loving them in a thousand ordinary ways that will never receive a million views.
Maybe the greatest illusion of our time isn’t that other people have perfect lives.
It’s that our ordinary lives are somehow not enough.
But ordinary is where almost everything that matters happens.
It’s cereal at the kitchen table.
A child laughing in the next room.
A dog asleep at your feet.
A ride home after a difficult day.
Someone saving you the last slice of pizza.
Someone walking into the room...and knowing you’re glad they came home.
So no, Sadie.
We probably aren’t getting kangaroos.
And our next backyard party may involve folding chairs, store-bought cupcakes and at least one adult quietly praying it doesn’t rain.
But I hope my children someday understand that love doesn’t always look exciting.
Sometimes love looks like packing lunches.
Waiting up.
Showing up.
Listening to the same story for the fourteenth time.
And putting down your phone when someone needs your eyes.
Because the best parts of a family rarely look impressive enough to post.
They don’t need to be.
They were never meant to be performed.
They were meant to be lived. ❤️
Comments