The first time I heard about overcompensating, it was a story about someone else. A friend of a friend—a single, divorced mother—had bought her daughter an elaborate makeup set. It was a big purchase (I don’t know much about hair, so you can imagine I know even less about makeup sets), and my friend described it as a classic sign of a single parent overcompensating.
That story got me thinking: do I overcompensate? The answer, without question, is yes.
I don’t buy makeup sets or elaborate toys, but I do splurge—especially when it comes to trips and activities. And if I’m honest, I think it comes from guilt. Sometimes that guilt stems from the feeling that I robbed my kids of something essential from their childhood because I was being selfish. I imagine (and I suspect it’s partly true) that when we go places, or when they watch Disney shows featuring traditional nuclear families, they feel self-conscious about something they don’t have.
And then there’s the judgment. Even today, you shouldn’t underestimate how judgey people can be toward divorced parents. All of that adds up to me trying to compensate for what I think I’ve taken away from my kids—and for me, that often looks like overscheduling.
⚖️ Learning to Balance
Over time, I’ve learned to manage this better. My kids will have no memory of the time I lived with their mom. So while they won’t grow up in a nuclear family, they also won’t grow up in a household anchored by unhappy parents.
Right now, they may stand out in their class. But in a few years, according to the stats, divorce will be even more common—and they’ll find themselves much more “normal” than they imagined. (Take note, judgey people and start looking at couples’ therapy now before it’s too late.)
Does that mean I’ll probably continue overprogramming and overcompensating? Of course. But I’ve also realized that letting guilt define everything I do as a parent isn’t healthy—for me or for them.
🌱 Accepting a Different Childhood
Sometimes I have to step back and accept that my creatures are having a childhood spectacularly different from mine. That doesn’t mean it’s worse or better—it’s simply different, and uniquely their own.
At the end of the day, the best any of us can hope for is that when they’re adults, they’ll look back on their childhood fondly. And if they do, then maybe all the overcompensating wasn’t such a bad thing after all.