As I prepare for another Mother’s Day, I find myself pondering the contrasts between my parenting approach and that of my own mother. Growing up, I never once dared to talk back to my parents, yet my kids seem to have no qualms about raising their voices when they’re upset. Reflecting on this, I can’t help but wonder: did my mother do a better job than I do?
There are moments when I feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of my children’s demands. Unlike my mother, who maintained an environment of discipline, I find myself often repeating requests that go unheeded. Can you imagine? Of course, my children are far from terrible. They are generally well-behaved and respectful, earning praise from teachers and peers alike. Still, at home, they can display a level of disrespect that would have led to immediate consequences in my own childhood.
My husband and I often discuss this discrepancy over a drink, bemused by the differences in our parenting styles. We recall the atmosphere of fear in our homes where any misbehavior would lead to swift repercussions. In contrast, my children have the freedom to express their feelings openly, even if it gets loud at times. The conversations I have with my kids are vastly different from what I experienced with my mother; they share their lives with me—topics that would have made her blush—without hesitation.
One of the most striking differences is the affection they show. My kids tell me they love me on a regular basis, sometimes for no reason at all. My own first “I love you” to my mother came years later, during my freshman year of college, and it’s a regret I carry with me, especially as I approach another Mother’s Day without her.
There’s no denying that my children are growing up in a different world. My mother rarely interacted with my friends’ parents and didn’t attend school events or check on my homework. In contrast, I’m deeply involved in my children’s lives, participating in countless activities.
Yet, despite their good qualities, my kids can still exhibit selfishness, rudeness, and an occasional use of colorful language. It leaves me questioning my effectiveness as a parent. So, who has done a better job: my mother or I?
Despite her flaws, my mother’s fierce love for me was clear, and she raised capable, kind children. I strive to do the same, pouring my love into my kids every day. In that sense, I believe we both succeed.
Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers—those thriving, those struggling, and those just making it through. We all share in this beautiful, chaotic journey of motherhood.
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In summary, as we navigate the complexities of motherhood, it’s crucial to recognize that each generation faces its own challenges while ultimately aiming for the same goal: raising kind and capable children.