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What I Discovered About Parenting from My Mother
You’ve probably seen those “WWJD?” bumper stickers that prompt folks to ponder “What would Jesus do?” in their daily choices. Some have updated this to “What would Oprah do?” and many parents find themselves reflecting on “What would Mom do?” as they navigate the thrilling yet nerve-wracking responsibility of raising little ones. These moms draw upon their own childhood experiences, recalling how their mothers dealt with everything from skinned knees to heartaches, and how they answered endless questions about everything from the stars to the tough stuff about life.
I’m no different. I often find myself asking, “What would my mom do?” when faced with parenting dilemmas. But here’s the twist: I usually choose the opposite route.
I’ve actively tried to distance myself from my mother’s parenting style, almost running in the other direction. My childhood home felt like a culture of fear—our hardwood floors could have been made of eggshells. There was this heavy cloak of loneliness draped over me. While “I love you” was said often, it often felt empty, conditional. My mom would say, “I love you because I gave birth to you, but that doesn’t mean I have to like you.” My dad made it clear around my fourteenth birthday that he loved my mom more than me—“I chose her; you just came along,” he said.
As a kid, I would be sent to my room for hours without explanation, simply because my mom “couldn’t stand” me. When I came home from school upset after an argument, her first question was always, “What did you do wrong?” When I was sick, I was reminded how much of an inconvenience I was, forced to stay in my room without any comfort. I believed her words; I thought I was a “bad girl” and that I must have done something wrong to lose a friend. I thought mothers knew best and had your best interests at heart, right?
Yet, despite that experience, I learned valuable lessons about parenting from her. She showed me the power of truly saying “I love you.” Not just at the end of a call or a kiss goodbye, but genuinely and without conditions. I make it a point to tell my kids I love them for who they are, no matter what—whether they spill uncooked rice all over the kitchen or have a tough day at school.
Instead of passing on that sense of loneliness, I aim to give my kids a feeling of invincibility. At four and five, they should see the world as full of possibilities, knowing they have my unwavering support. I work hard to keep communication open, asking my daughter about her day with genuine interest and without judgement, so she can express her feelings honestly.
Navigating this parenting journey without my mom hasn’t been easy. There are days when I find myself saying to my husband, “I want my mom. Just not that mom.” But, as my dad wisely pointed out years ago, we don’t choose our family; we can only take what resonates with us and leave the rest behind. Every experience carries lessons.
The biggest question I’m learning to ask myself now is “WWID?”—What Would I Do?