As a parent, I often find myself questioning my choices. Am I making the right calls? Am I failing my kids? Am I a good mom? Truthfully, I don’t think any of us truly have this parenting thing down all the time. And when it comes to the parental examples we had growing up, few can claim they had the perfect role models. Most of us would do things differently, often quite significantly.
For me, my parents were exemplary, but not in the way you’d hope. They were fantastic models for what NOT to do.
From a young age, I got the impression that my parents never really wanted children. My introduction to their lives was marked by two lines on a pregnancy test at a particularly inconvenient time in their relationship and individual journeys. I was anything but the ideal addition. Though I received words of love and hugs, that didn’t translate into a sense of being wanted. At times, it felt more like a reluctant agreement—”I’m here. You’re here. I guess we have to do this.” I believed love was more of a societal obligation than a genuine feeling, much like the belief in Santa Claus.
Their divorce occurred while I was in kindergarten. The reassurances from adults that it wasn’t my fault didn’t resonate with me. I knew it wasn’t my doing; my parents were simply making each other miserable. My mom was ambitious but stressed, and my father was stuck in a cycle of lofty dreams mixed with self-sabotage. Their arguments were so intense that I began to mimic their behavior during playtime with friends, assuming that yelling was how families operated. In hindsight, their divorce was perhaps one of the few things they managed correctly.
After the split, my mom got custody of us. My dad fought just enough to make the process a pain but never genuinely wanted to be involved in raising us. He would appear and disappear unpredictably, and I often heard my mother’s family criticize him for being a terrible father who only sought our affection when it suited him.
Understandably, my mother was filled with anger. Her reality was far from what she had envisioned, and she struggled to care for three kids while trying to recover from the financial mess my father had left her in. She was shouldering a monumental burden, and much of that pain was projected onto me.
I’ll admit, parenting can be overwhelming, and I’ve lost my temper with my own kids more times than I care to admit. My anger can flare up quickly, and I’ve had some unpleasant thoughts that haunt me if I reflect on them. However, unlike my parents, I don’t act on those feelings. I know too well the confusion and hurt a child feels when a parent lashes out in frustration.
I understand the shame of being told you have no friends and you’re unlovable during an already tense morning. I’ve felt the loneliness that comes from knowing your parents didn’t want you, where one seems to escape and the other feels trapped in a life they didn’t choose.
My parents serve as a powerful reminder of what not to do in parenting. They demonstrated how crucial it is to show love. It really is that simple. You need to love your children and ensure they feel that love every single day.
No matter what challenges I face, I make it a priority to communicate to my kids that they are cherished and wanted. I don’t simply say it; I show it through my actions. I tell them, “I love you,” repeatedly throughout the day. They know I mess up at times, but they never doubt my love for them. I do everything out of genuine affection, not obligation. I wanted them, and I take great joy in being their mom. There’s no room for uncertainty in their minds about that.
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In summary, the lessons I’ve learned from my parents’ shortcomings have shaped my approach to parenting. I strive to create a loving environment for my children, ensuring they always feel wanted and valued.
Keyphrase: parenting lessons from my parents
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