I find myself chatting with my mother when a lightbulb moment strikes me about parenting: “Every generation thinks their kids are spoiled.” I mention this because my daughter has no idea what real yelling is—like the kind that sends you scrambling for cover, eyes wide, and your heart racing. To her, a stern tone is the peak of loudness. I tell my mom how fortunate my daughter truly is, and we share a laugh.
My mom remembers well the days when she chased me with a wooden spoon, and I would cleverly hide it in anticipation. There’s a particular thrill in watching your furious parent stomp towards the kitchen like a dinosaur, only to find… nothing. I had outsmarted her. I can still recall the burning sensation of Tabasco sauce on my tongue as punishment, wishing I could just disappear in the bathroom. My daughter’s idea of a dire threat is me hinting at changing the Wi-Fi password. “You better shape up or you’ll lose the internet,” I warned her the other night, and just like that, her attitude shifted.
Given the types of discipline my parents received from their own parents, I’d say I was raised by a couple of peacekeepers. But let’s be real, my upbringing felt like being ruled by a tyrant and a diet-obsessed parent who was fierce with words but lacked follow-through on the wooden spoon front. My dad, one of seven kids in an Irish Catholic household, had some wild tales, like being chained to a tree as a lesson in discipline. Can you imagine? Meanwhile, I see a friend on social media fretting over a mom leaving her child unattended at a playground. I think, “You have no idea; I’ve got a dad who was literally chained to a tree.”
My mom had her own share of trials. Forced to lift weights after school to control her weight, she often passed out from the strain. Meanwhile, I spent whole summers glued to daytime soap operas, munching on dry Rice Krispies Treats cereal straight from the box. My daughter, in contrast, binge-watches on a tablet, a Chromebook, a phone, and sometimes all at once with an actual TV show thrown in. I can only hope all this tech exposure will someday make me look like a visionary when she becomes a filmmaker or comedian rather than a couch potato with no direction.
I don’t want to be the kind of parent who chases their kid with a wooden spoon; I just want to break the cycle of parenting without any glamor. It’s filled with kids who don’t appreciate what they have, making you feel like a monster in the process. And no one warns you about the lack of validation in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.”
The best parents are often those who don’t have kids. People dive into parenting thinking they’ll do it better than their own parents, or sometimes they just roll with the punches. I’m not sure which hits first after becoming a parent: the hormones or the overwhelming sense of self-importance.
If you had loving parents and can’t relate to this, blessings upon you—you might be an alien!
As my mom and I giggle uncontrollably on the phone, we realize that I might have had it easier than I thought. I wasn’t chained to a tree or forced to work out until I collapsed. My parents were wonderfully flawed individuals, and if they ever said, “I’m disappointed in you,” I’d have seen it as a badge of honor, like earning a keychain for weight loss. But my relationship with my child is different. Now, “I’m disappointed” feels like a thousand wooden spoons crashing down. She, just like me, remains blissfully unaware of how good she really has it. And perhaps that’s the whole point.
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Summary: This humorous reflection on parenting highlights how today’s children often lack an understanding of the struggles their parents faced. Through personal anecdotes, the author explores the generational differences in discipline and parenting styles, ultimately revealing that while children may feel challenged, they are often unaware of the privileges and comforts they enjoy compared to past generations.