Parenting experts will tell you there is no such thing as the perfect parent. They advise us to do our best and realize we all make mistakes.

I know there is at least one perfect parent out there in the world. How do I know this for sure? She lived in close proximity to me when my children were growing up. Her children went to the same school as my own.

My children were friends with her children and her reputation as a wise and generous parent was legend.

One of her children was named "Nobody Else." While that may sound like a strange name to burden a child with, Nobody Else lived a charmed and privileged life and was respected and admired by her peers despite her dubious name.

Whenever I refused to buy my children the latest fad item and suggested they had enough in their closets, I was emphatically informed that "Nobody Else's mother would ever make her daughter wear those old fashioned clothes."

Furthermore, Nobody Else's mother ever made her do the dishes, clean her room or do assigned chores before going out. Nobody Else's mother ever made her call home when she was going to be late. Nobody Else's mother was ever as mean and strict as I.

There were two children in this perfect parent's family. Nobody had a sibling named Everybody.

Everybody Else got to wear lots of makeup to school. Everybody Else did not have a curfew. Everybody else could do what she wanted, and go where she wanted with whomever she wanted. Everybody Else did not even have to bring her friends home and introduce them to her mother.

My poor deprived children. They were convinced they were adopted and really belonged to the family of Somebody Else. I finally had a clue to assist me in my relentless search for the mystical perfect parent who was making my life so difficult. Somebody Else was the mother of this magical family whose children were so much more fortunate than my offspring.

Nobody Else's parent was ever as strict or frugal. Everybody Else could have parties on school nights. Nobody Else was ever treated as badly as my children. Everybody Else was luckier and had more freedom.

That Else family really played havoc with my mental stability. I tried to be a good parent, I really did, but Somebody Else could always do it better.

Over the years, I never did meet this parental paragon of virtue in person, but now that my grandchildren are in school, I heard a rumor that she has moved into their neighborhood.

Now my adult children are struggling with navigating the impossibly perfect standards imposed by "Somebody else."

What goes around, comes around.

Learn more about this author, Carol Gioia.
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