What surprised me the most when I became a parent was how much my children would mirror both the admirable and the less desirable traits of my husband and me. On days when their behavior tests my patience, it often reveals a hyper-focused version of my own habits—those quirks I’ve spent years in therapy trying to navigate, neatly labeled as “extreme conscientiousness” or similar.
After particularly challenging days, I remind myself that while strong-willed kids can be tough to manage, they often grow into successful and independent adults. My efforts now will eventually pay off when they’re thriving and not living in my basement.
The most trying moments are somehow overshadowed by delightful memories—genuine laughter, heartfelt notes hidden in backpacks, and lovingly crafted art projects that capture their affection. It’s like a balancing act that allows parents to endure and children to mature over time. (And yes, that sounds like a math problem, but with the help of elementary homework, I’m all too familiar with those.)
In my 7-year-old daughter, I already see signs of resilience and determination. When a building kit showed up missing over 40 pieces, I watched her navigate that moment with grace. Instead of throwing a tantrum and declaring her creation ruined, she adapted, using her brother’s spare parts and even wrote a letter to the company, which they responded to positively. I envisioned her as an unstoppable corporate leader in the future, overcoming obstacles like a pro in a video game. Fantastic, right? But this adaptable nature also has its downsides.
As a natural problem-solver and peacemaker, she often sacrifices her own needs for the sake of others. She strives to fix issues and maintain harmony, even if it means sidelining her own desires. And the phrase I hear far too often in our home? “I’m sorry.”
Just this morning while baking muffins, she apologized for a muffin cup that wasn’t perfectly shaped: “I’m sorry, Mom.” Then, as we made the bed and a corner popped loose, “I’m sorry, Mom.” And when her brothers created a mess and I expressed frustration, “I’m sorry, Mom.” It’s a relentless cycle of apologies.
Let me clarify: I believe in raising polite and kind children. However, her frequent apologies for things beyond her control—her very presence—are a habit I wish to break. My sons don’t do this, nor does her father, and I realize she learned it from me.
I first noticed her habit of over-apologizing around age 4 or 5. It seemed to punctuate every conversation. I kept reminding her, “Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize for things you haven’t done or for simply being you.” I thought I was addressing it, but then I recognized the pattern—I was the one setting the example. Just today, when I asked her to check on the muffins, I instinctively said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were reading.”
I’m sorry. For asking anything of you. I’m sorry for being a burden. Sorry for needing something. Sorry for existing. Sorry for not being perfect. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
This issue of women being taught to minimize themselves is not a new conversation. Sheryl Sandberg tackled it in her TED Talk, and I’ve studied it in college classes. Yet, even today, women in high-level positions often shy away from negotiating contracts for fear of being labeled “difficult” or “pushy.”
Despite all our knowledge, the message remains: be agreeable, don’t disrupt, and don’t ask for what you need. I’ve been part of passing this message to my daughter, and for that, I feel truly regretful.
However, here’s the silver lining: I’m raising a young woman who seeks resolution and is prepared to take responsibility when necessary. These are great qualities to have in relationships and the workplace—when she is actually at fault.
My role as her mother is to guide her not to accept blame that isn’t hers and to teach her to stand strong against those who might feel threatened by her brilliance. She should never apologize for being intelligent, strong, or vibrant. If every day is a chance to redirect this course, I need to start by differentiating between real accountability (I’m sorry) and expressing empathy (I care). It’s time to stop the “sorry” parade. Sorry…not sorry.
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In summary, it’s essential to teach our daughters that they don’t always have to apologize—especially for things beyond their control. By modeling this behavior ourselves, we can empower them to embrace their strength and individuality without fear.