As I watch my son during his swimming lesson, I can’t help but beam with pride. He dives under the water, and up he pops, his face lit up with a grin that could rival the sun. Just a short while ago, his sensory processing disorder made it nearly impossible for him to put his face underwater. This small victory is monumental, and it brings me such joy, but it also brings a wave of relief. At 6 years old, he was the only first grader still sporting floaties at the pool — a fact he was painfully aware of but couldn’t change. Until now.
My attention shifts to one of his classmates lounging on the pool bench, engrossed in a hefty chapter book well beyond the reading level of most first graders. Meanwhile, my son is just beginning to master swimming. A twinge of jealousy stirs within me.
“Did you see XX reading that massive book?” I mention to a friend, who isn’t surprised and casually adds that he’s excelling at soccer too. This kid is the epitome of a high achiever, destined for a bright future filled with success. My friend sighs, wishing the same for her son. I, however, find myself saying I just want my son to grow up happy.
Perhaps it’s because I witness him struggle with tasks that other kids handle effortlessly, or maybe it’s the four meetings I’ve had with his educational team since January, but my definition of success for him has shifted dramatically. To me, success is simply getting off the school bus with a smile. I know I’m not alone in this sentiment; all parents wish for their children’s happiness, but we each have our unique interpretations of what “success” looks like.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that my son may not be the star student, the soccer captain, or the most popular kid. While he has the potential for greatness — being smart, kind, and funny — his ADHD and SPD present challenges. Watching him navigate these struggles has illuminated a crucial truth: his happiness and self-esteem are what truly matter for his future success.
During a recent meeting with his educational team, I found myself tearful, desperate to uncover something, anything, that showcased his strengths. “Maybe he calls out in class because he has so many ideas!” “Could he be bored since he understands the material?” All I received were sympathetic nods and reassurances that he’s doing well — happy, eager to learn, kind, and with plenty of friends. In that moment, it became clear to me:
I no longer care that he doesn’t like soccer or that he prefers building rockets over scoring touchdowns. I’m no longer bothered by his frequent interruptions in class or his struggle to fit the mold of a typical student. If he’s still wearing floaties next summer, I’ll be right there cheering him on, floaties and all.
Sure, I occasionally worry about his challenges compared to his peers. But I’m now focused on teaching him lessons that will allow him to navigate life’s ups and downs. I’m instilling in him the belief that success is defined by effort, not just accomplishments. If you try, you can feel proud of yourself, and that’s what really counts. In a world that seems to push for constant achievement, I wonder when we stopped valuing simple happiness.
Success is fundamentally tied to happiness and self-worth. It’s about learning to cope with failure and picking yourself back up. Not everyone can be the winner, and that’s perfectly okay. If we teach our kids that they must excel at everything, we’re doing them a disservice. They need to realize that doing their best is enough, even if it means finishing last. Life is about how you handle failure and the lessons you draw from it.
My son might not become a soccer player, a professional dancer, or the valedictorian, but I believe his future holds tremendous promise. I have faith that, after numerous setbacks, he will find his path. What truly matters is that at the end of each day, he lays his head down with a smile and a sense of accomplishment.
For more insights on parenting challenges and insights, check out our related blog post on home insemination kits that can help you navigate family planning decisions. Additionally, you might find Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit a useful resource, and WebMD’s guide on IUI success is an excellent read for those considering their options.
Summary
Parenting a child with sensory processing disorder has transformed my understanding of success. It’s not about being the best; it’s about finding happiness and self-esteem in the journey. Each attempt is a step toward success, and I’m committed to teaching my son that it’s okay to fail as long as he tries. Our definition of success evolves, and for now, his joy is what matters most.