My three-and-a-half-year-old daughter stands beside me in our compact kitchen while my partner prepares dinner. Her small fists are clenched, her expression intense. I’m sharing my frustrations with her father about something that upset me—perhaps a misunderstanding in an email or a disagreement in line at the grocery store.
“Mommy! Mommy! If you don’t talk to me I, I, I…” Her dark eyes widen as she struggles to articulate a consequence that matches her urgency. “If you don’t talk to me, I won’t be alive anymore,” she finally exclaims.
I glance down at my spirited child in her “I Love New York” t-shirt and corduroy pants. It’s clear that she feels the need to assert her presence right now. For a brief moment, I find it hard to separate my feelings from her own. One of us is nearly four years old, while the other is nearing 40.
Wearing my nightgown at 5 p.m., feeling the weight of exhaustion and sweat, I crave just a few moments to finish my point. I also dream of a hot bath to soothe my sore muscles from yesterday’s infrequent ballet class. And if I could squeeze in some time to write or watch my favorite show, Wolf Hall, that would be perfect.
I scoop my daughter up into my arms. “Did you know,” I say, “that parents are people too?” Her eyes light up, eager for my undivided attention.
“Mommies are people. People with children.” I reach back into my memory for the lyrics of “Parents Are People” from the beloved children’s album, Free to Be You and Me.
“When mommies were little, they used to be girls, like some of you, but then they grew.”
I can almost visualize my childhood self sitting on the vibrant orange carpet of my old room, surrounded by colorful leotards and the scent of old textbooks wrapped in brown paper. Various albums from the 1980s flood my mind—A Chorus Line, Stacey Q, and of course, Free to Be You and Me.
I find the album on iTunes, and with a nudge of nostalgia, I start to play it. My daughter, though only half my height, fits perfectly in my arms as we sway together to the tune.
“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 dusk settles in and lights flicker on outside our New York City window, we dance together. The world outside is alive with people returning home, dogs scampering down steps, and teenagers laughing and chatting.
“Remember this one?” I sing. “Well, I don’t care if I’m pretty at all, and I don’t care if you never get tall…” My daughter used to question my tears while listening to sentimental songs, but now she seems to understand. She knows that there exists a unique space where parents can reflect on their own experiences while simultaneously engaging with their children.
In this moment, I realize that I am almost 40 years old, and I want her to know: “We don’t have to change at all.”
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Summary:
This article reflects on a mother’s experience in teaching her young daughter about personal boundaries while drawing from childhood memories and the influence of music. Through heartfelt moments and nostalgic tunes, the mother emphasizes the importance of recognizing both the individuality of parents and their roles in their children’s lives.
Keyphrase: Teaching Boundaries to Children
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