There’s a looming reality I can’t shake: one day, my child is going to think I’m totally clueless. I know I have some time—maybe a decade or so—but that day is approaching, and it terrifies me. This incredible little person, whom I carried for months and who I cherish beyond measure, will eventually look at me with a mix of confusion and pity.
It’s a universal truth that as children grow, their perception of their parents’ intelligence tends to diminish, peaking in skepticism around the ages of 18 to 22. My three-year-old, Max, is already displaying a vocabulary that’s making me sweat. Just yesterday, we were pretending to be superheroes, and he asked me to play a character while incorporating some “sarcasm.” I’m already dreading the barrage of questions that will undoubtedly come my way in the near future—thank goodness for Google, or else I’d be utterly lost.
“Mom, why is the ocean salty?”
“Well, it has to do with minerals in the water and… um, there you go.” (*quickly types “why is the ocean salty” into Google*)
“Mom, what is a black hole?”
“Uh, it’s like a super strong vacuum?”
“But why?”
“Um… because it’s really dense? (*furiously searches “black hole”*)
I’m trying to view these future conversations as chances for growth and rediscovery, but I can’t help but worry that Max will see my limitations and lose faith in me. With the complexities of modern education, I might only have a few years before he realizes I’m not the fountain of wisdom he once thought I was.
As children surpass their parents, it’s a natural process I both welcome and dread. I want Max to be more knowledgeable and worldly than I am. I envision him traveling abroad, studying subjects he’s passionate about, and experiencing life in ways I never could. But as he continues to expand his horizons, it’s likely he’ll feel less reliant on me for guidance.
In today’s world, we often turn to the internet for answers. Want to know the perfect temperature for a roast? Google it. Need tips on getting a stubborn stain out? Google again. Even when it comes to relationship advice, I often bypass my mom. After all, how can she relate to my complex romantic entanglements when she’s only known one partner? Why would I consult my mother—a single person with a singular experience—when I can access the collective wisdom of the internet?
I sometimes wonder if my mom feels a twinge of sadness about not being needed as much. But I’ve come to understand that the essence of our relationship extends far beyond the exchange of knowledge. Sure, I could Google everyday dilemmas, but I need my mom for the things that the internet simply can’t provide. When I’m overwhelmed with anxiety, only she can reassure me, “This feeling will pass, I promise.” During moments of self-doubt about my writing, her encouragement—“Don’t give up; I believe in you”—is invaluable.
That’s the kind of mother I aspire to be for Max. I’m ready to accept that I may never have all the answers or enough experience to be the perfect parent he deserves. But when he needs reassurance that everything will be okay, I want to be the one he turns to—because I’m the only person who can make him truly believe it.
So, move over, Google. When it comes to matters of the heart and soul, there’s no substitute for a mom.
For those navigating the journey of parenthood, be sure to check out resources like this helpful article on donor insemination and explore this great home insemination kit.
Summary
In an age where we can find answers to almost anything online, the emotional support and understanding provided by mothers remain irreplaceable. As children grow and seek knowledge, the relationship between them and their parents evolves, but the unique bond of reassurance and love is something that Google cannot replicate.
Keyphrase: Why we still need our moms
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