Whenever people learn that I have four children and that I teach them in both Chinese and English, they often refer to me as Super Mom or seek my parenting advice, as if having multiple kids bestows some kind of supernatural insight or expertise. I try to clarify that I’m actually not a great parent, but they always dismiss my claims as false modesty.
Let me be clear: I’m not being modest. I genuinely wish I were. The truth is, I consider myself a fairly average parent who embraces a philosophy known as benign neglect. When I say I spend most of my time in bed working on my laptop or obsessively following K-pop band BTS, I mean it.
Yes, even during this pandemic.
Before I continue, I want to emphasize that I’m not downplaying the serious issue of actual neglect—that’s abuse. My children are well cared for; they have a roof over their heads, enough food, clothes (though their hygiene might be questionable at times), and a reasonable level of education—thanks in part to their father (my supportive husband) being present to help out.
With my oldest child nearing eleven and my youngest just turning four, I’ve put in my fair share of parenting time. I’ve breastfed on demand, been pregnant for a decade, cloth-diapered, and made my own organic baby food. I used to take them to the park daily and enrolled them in years of Mandarin classes and various extracurriculars.
While I did all that for the first three kids, I believe it has turned my youngest into a more resourceful individual. He’s a survivor, having mastered microwaving frozen chicken nuggets by the age of three and a half! (I may or may not have let him eat them frozen until he figured out to use a stool. The pride I felt was immense!)
Isn’t the ultimate goal of parenting to raise independent individuals who can handle life outside the protective bubble of home? If necessity is the mother of invention, then my choice to step back from the daily grind of parenting has inadvertently taught my kids essential life skills. You can’t convince me otherwise.
Moreover, my children (even the seven-year-old) are now capable of doing their own laundry, changing their sheets, putting away groceries, washing dishes, taking out the trash, and sorting the mail. They’ve even learned to cook to some extent.
I’m proud to say that I haven’t cooked for my kids in months.
First of all, they dislike my cooking, which is hurtful despite my minimal effort. I know I can cook well, but why waste my talents on such ungrateful little beings? My husband’s only feedback is, “It’s okay.” If that’s all I get, they can stick to microwave burritos from Walmart.
Once I taught my older kids to make eggs, instant ramen, and fry Spam, I felt they were ready for college. Toss in a vegetable (but why?) and voilà, you have a balanced struggle meal!
I can do this because I’ve ensured our kitchen is stocked with accessible foods and utensils, and I’ve taken the time to teach my children how to use them. I’ve shown them safety procedures for the oven and stove, how to read and follow instructions, and I’ve made sure they feel empowered enough to take care of themselves. Now, they can even make me food, and any meal I don’t have to prepare is a culinary masterpiece—scientifically proven!
Of course, it’s not a flawless system. There have been a few minor burns and broken dishes, but I believe pain is a great teacher. While they might be missing some key nutrients and have weak bones, that’s what multivitamins are for. Isn’t it amazing how modern solutions can help?
Now that my husband bought the kids a cheap phone from Amazon, I’ve achieved the dream of texting my children, allowing me to remain in my room without needing to engage in face-to-face conversations.
You might be wondering, “How can I also have children who are independent but slightly wild?” Well, my friend, the secret lies in a comfortable acceptance of despair and defeat.
You must be prepared for your children to struggle with whatever skills you’re trying to teach them, and resist the urge to jump in and do it yourself. It’s like training your partner to do the dishes: at some point, you have to decide if it’s more important that the dishes get done at all, rather than how they’re done.
I choose not to do it. Every. Single. Time.
As a bonus, my children have become excellent negotiators. My oldest has mastered the art of managing tasks, often doing one of three things: completing the work himself, delegating it, or reminding me he can’t finish without my involvement. Half the time, I tell him he doesn’t need to do it because I don’t want to do it either—but now the blame is on me!
If that isn’t a reflection of the average office worker’s daily grind, I don’t know what is.
And isn’t that what we ultimately want to raise? Average office workers? Judge me if you must, but I’m one of the happier and more fulfilled mothers out there—thanks to prioritizing my own needs. Some might call it selfish, but I see it as a gift.
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Summary:
This article shares a humorous take on the author’s parenting approach, which she describes as benign neglect. She argues that stepping back has allowed her children to become independent, capable individuals who can cook and manage household tasks. Despite the unconventional style, the author finds fulfillment in prioritizing her own needs while raising capable children.