You’ve probably seen those “WWJD?” bumper stickers on cars, prompting folks to reflect on “What would Jesus do?” in their daily decisions. Some have even adapted this to “What would Oprah do?” But as new parents, many find themselves pondering, “What would my mom do?” as they navigate the exhilarating yet daunting journey of raising little ones. These reflections often bring to mind the countless ways our mothers guided us through everything from scraped knees to heartaches, as well as their patience in answering our endless questions about everything from the cosmos to the importance of eating our greens.
I can relate to those sentiments. Frequently, I find myself asking, “How would my mother handle this?” Yet, my approach tends to veer in the opposite direction.
I’ve made a conscious effort to avoid replicating my mother’s parenting style, often running away from it. My childhood home was filled with an atmosphere of fear; walking on eggshells felt like a way of life. Despite the frequent declarations of love, they often felt conditional and hollow. My mother would remind me, “I love you because I gave birth to you, but that doesn’t mean I have to like you,” while I was still in elementary school. On my fourteenth birthday, my father made it clear that “I love your mother more than I love you – I chose her, you just came along.”
As a child, she would leave me isolated in my room for hours without explanation, simply stating she “couldn’t stand” me anymore. If I returned home from school upset, her first response was usually, “Well, what did you do wrong?” When I was sick, it was evident that my being unwell was an inconvenience, and spending time resting in bed meant no television – her reasoning being, “If you’re too sick to go to school, then you’re too sick to watch TV.”
I believed her. I thought it was my fault she didn’t like me and accepted that my father’s affection for her took precedence. I internalized all of it, convinced that I was a “bad girl” and an inconvenience, simply because I didn’t know any better. After all, mothers are supposed to have our best interests at heart, right?
Despite these experiences, I did learn valuable lessons about parenting from her. For one, she showed me the profound importance of saying “I love you” sincerely. Not just a ritualistic phrase at the end of a call or bedtime, but a heartfelt declaration that comes without conditions. I frequently remind my kids of my love for them, even when they make messes, like the time they spilled uncooked rice all over the kitchen floor. I assure them that my love is unwavering, no matter what.
I strive to replace the loneliness I felt with a sense of empowerment for my children. At four and five years old, I want them to feel invincible and to know that there will always be someone ready to catch them when they fall. I aim to create a safe space where they can express their feelings without fear of judgment. When my daughter faces challenges at school, I approach her with curiosity rather than criticism, enabling her to share honestly about her experiences.
Navigating parenting without my own mother has posed its challenges. There are days when I turn to my partner and express, “I wish my mom were here. Just not that mom.” But, as my father wisely pointed out years ago, we can’t choose our family. We can, however, learn from their strengths and weaknesses, adopting what resonates with us while leaving the rest behind.
Perhaps the most significant lesson I’m discovering is that I need to focus on asking myself, “WWID?” – What Would I Do?
This article first appeared on July 18, 2014.
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In summary, while my upbringing was fraught with challenges, it also equipped me with the tools to parent differently. I am determined to foster an environment of love, communication, and security for my children, contrasting sharply with my own experiences.
Keyphrase: Parenting Insights from My Mother
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