The new school year is just around the corner, so like a lot of homeschool moms, a friend and I were recently discussing what lies ahead. We’re no different than other moms in the homeschool community, chatting endlessly about this Latin curriculum or that intramural opportunity and which child will do what and when, how, and where. This one is volunteering here, that one is interning there, a third is learning how to sew.

I’ve been there, done that—six times now. I’ve spent whole summers perusing homeschooling catalogs, interviewing friends who have used a curriculum I am considering, scoured websites. I put out feelers in my community, wondering what opportunities are available, which are most popular, which are to be avoided. In a world of endless possibilities, the pressure to do what is best for my kids is strangulating. Especially when their success (or lack thereof) is resting squarely on my reluctant shoulders.

But the last couple of years have cured me of this . . . I think. Maybe it’s because the strain of sifting the bad from the good, or the best out of the good, has worn me down. Or maybe it’s simply because I’ve plowed through enough books to know which ones work and which ones—despite their sparkly promise—don’t. We’ve had years with activities and years without. (Guess which years my kids do better and are happier?) We’ve done everything from color-coded schedules that monitor each child’s every movement from dawn to dusk and we’ve had years where any education they do get is caught through trips to the grocery store and reading cereal boxes.

In the end, the kids seem to be OK, no matter what we do.

So I no longer care who is using Saxon math or Math-U-See. I am indifferent to which of my friends are in a co-op or move to the country to reclaim their pioneer heritage or give their children violin lessons just because every single one of their friends has a child playing violin and it is, in fact, “The Thing To Do.”

As my children get older, their trophy and blue ribbon accumulation has become less and less important to me. The passion to have the smartest and most-talented children has worn off, much like the desire to can all my own food. It’s not because I’m perfect, or even good, really. Maybe I’m getting old. Wearing out. Slipping.

What I do know is that without all those publicly observable accomplishments, calibrating my maternal accomplishments is significantly harder. When the kids were having their kindergarten and first grade end-of-year “show” and could out-memorize every child there, it was easy. Now that the oldest are almost 16 and almost 17, quantifying their achievements is more complicated. What was it I was aiming for in the first place? I can’t seem to remember.

The human tendency is, of course, to throw the be-ribboned baby out with the perfectionistic bathwater. Tiring from seeking the good for our children doesn’t have to lead to abandoning them to the lowest common denominator, although that is certainly the temptation.

Against my competitive nature, the small voice speaks. What do I really—really—want for my children? Latin verb conjugations and noun declensions or the language of love, spoken in an imperfect but grace-filled home? Awards or the skills to make peace with an annoying sister? Advanced calculus or a willingness to mow the acre without complaining like a schoolgirl?

Hopefully we don’t have to make those either/or choices. But given limited time, energy, and financial resources, sometimes we do. We have to choose what to keep, choose what to focus on, choose what to let go. Sometimes that means letting go of the homeschool fairy tale in order to keep hold of the resident homeschoolers’ hearts.

Somewhere between the Roseanne Barrs and Martha Stewarts of mothering has to be a resting place. It is here I want to be, to spend my days focusing not on what best massages my maternal ego, but on what matters: Giving grace to a child for the 10th time that hour. Pointing out the new pink and white gladiola by the porch. Modeling peacemaking skills. Outdoing each other in love.

The rest of it is all good. And picking and choosing for our kids is good work. I just know that I am one of those moms who tend to do too much for all the wrong reasons and I need constant vigilance to keep what matters at the forefront.

I doubt it’s the Latin.

“For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his life?” (Matthew 16:26)