Teaching My Daughter About Boundaries, Inspired by ‘Free to Be You and Me’

home insemination Kit

My 3-and-a-half-year-old, Lily, stands beside me in our cozy kitchen while my partner, Jake, sizzles mushrooms on the stove. Her little fists are clenched, and her expression is one of determined intensity reminiscent of Holly Hunter in Broadcast News. I’m sharing with Jake something that frustrated me, something that really got under my skin. Maybe it was a missed point in an email or an awkward encounter at the grocery store.

“Mommy! Mommy! If you don’t talk to me, I, I, I…” Her eyes widen as she frantically searches for a fitting consequence to express her urgency.

“If you don’t talk to me, I won’t be alive anymore,” she declares.

I glance down at my spirited daughter, sporting her “I Love New York” t-shirt and corduroys. It’s clear that she feels the need to make her point now. Honestly, it’s hard to tell us apart at this moment—one of us is nearly four years old, while the other is approaching 40.

I’m still in my nightgown at 5 p.m., and I’m overwhelmed with sweat and fatigue. All I want is five uninterrupted minutes to finish my thoughts, followed by a hot bath—my legs are sore from yesterday’s once-a-month ballet class. Then maybe fifteen minutes to jot something down, and finally, an hour to unwind with Wolf Hall.

Scooping up my little one, I say, “Did you know that parents are people too?”

She locks her gaze onto mine, clearly wanting my full attention. “Mommies are people. People with children,” I continue, grasping for the lyrics of “Parents Are People” from the classic 1970s and ’80s show, Free to Be You and Me.

When mommies were little
They used to be girls,
Like some of you,
But then they grew.

Suddenly, I’m transported back into the nostalgia of my childhood. I can see myself sitting on the orange shag carpet of my bedroom, surrounded by leotards, leg warmers, and well-loved textbooks wrapped in brown paper. I remember the albums I listened to back then—A Chorus Line, Stacey Q, and The Princess Bride soundtrack—all mixed in with the sweet melodies of Free to Be You and Me.

I pull up the album on my phone—sadly not on vinyl—and we sway together. Although Lily is only half my height, she fits perfectly in my arms, resting her head on my shoulder as we sing along.

Mommies are women,
Women with children,
Busy with children
And things that they do.
There are a lot of things
A lot of mommies can do.

As the evening sets in, the lights from the nearby buildings flicker on our street. We stand by the window, dancing as the world outside carries on—people hurrying home, dogs darting around, and teens laughing in high heels.

Jake turns off the stove, letting dinner wait a little longer.

Remember this one?
Well, I don’t care if I’m pretty at all
And I don’t care if you never get tall.
I like what I look like and you’re nice small
We don’t have to change at all.

Lily used to wonder why I would cry at certain songs, but she doesn’t ask anymore. She’s learned that there’s a magical space where parents can be alone in their thoughts while being fully present with their children.

It’s a beautiful moment, sharing nostalgia and passion, creating a connection between us. I’m almost 40 now, and I want to tell her: We don’t have to change at all.

In summary, this piece reflects on the importance of parental boundaries while cherishing the connection between parent and child, all inspired by the timeless songs of Free to Be You and Me. It reminds us that while we all have our frustrations, it’s essential to recognize our roles as individuals and parents.