I never intended to be the kind of mom who handed out consequences like candy. I envisioned myself as the zen-like, calm mom who could communicate with her kids without raising her voice—a mother with the patience of a saint. I knew I might never reach that lofty ideal, but it was a worthy aspiration.
As my kids, Emma and Jake, transitioned into their toddler years, I genuinely tried to embody my most patient self. I listened to their elaborate justifications for why they thought it was acceptable to flush toys down the toilet or why my homemade tacos were apparently “gross,” despite them requesting them. I allowed them to snuggle up next to me in bed as long as they at least attempted to fall asleep in their own space.
I felt calm, engaged, and utterly exhausted. I thought I was nailing it, showing them that even at a young age, they deserved patience, kindness, and respect. I believed treating them like any other person was essential. Little did I know, my well-meaning approach would backfire spectacularly.
One day, as Emma unleashed a tirade about me not allowing her to binge-watch her favorite YouTube channel, I had an epiphany. My attempts at being the patient mom had inadvertently raised two kids with a sense of entitlement and little regard for my authority. And trust me, that realization hit hard.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment my parenting style shifted, but I can tell you that things became serious very quickly. Gone were the days of patiently listening to excuses for not cleaning up after themselves. Now, there were consequences for ignoring chores. Oh, you decided to flood the bathroom with water? Instead of calmly explaining why that’s a no-go, you get an early bedtime. How about that?
Privileges were revoked, toys were confiscated, and screens were turned off—my inner tough-love mom had been unleashed. I never wanted to be that mom who feels the need to punish like it’s a game of dodgeball, but I recognized I had to take action. The constant arguing, the backtalk, and the entitlement had to be addressed. I faced a choice: have kids who couldn’t keep friends or be the mom who wouldn’t let them get away with everything.
Admitting I had been a pushover was challenging. I genuinely believed I was doing the right thing for my family, yet I realized I may have been doing them a disservice by being too lenient. Accepting that I needed to change was difficult. But knowing I was not fully nurturing my kids to the best of my abilities was even harder.
I decided to transform my approach, hoping to reshape their behavior in the process. We’re still navigating this new chapter of our lives. I’m becoming more confident in setting boundaries, and they’re learning to respect me, our home, and their belongings. When I lay down the law about consequences, they take me seriously now. Sure, there are still moments when they might not like me, but those morning cuddles are a reminder that they love me, which assures me I’m on the right path.
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In summary, my journey from a “nice” mom to a “tough love” mom has been a necessary evolution, one that prioritizes respect and responsibility over complacency. It’s a work in progress, but with every step, I feel we’re moving in the right direction.