How My Mom Made Me a Better Parent

I firmly believe that our memories from childhood are key in shaping our lives as adults. Our experiences at six years old can impact our choices at twenty-six years old, positively or negatively, depending on whether or not we are aware of their importance in our lives. They can prompt us to act in a certain way, or they can convince us that we will NEVER act in a certain way. They can show us the good we want to be, or they can show us what we don't want to be.

On this day of recognition for madres everywhere, I thought it fitting to share some of my experiences as a child, specifically with my mom. I did not know when I was eight years old that she was shaping my views of motherhood - it's possible that she didn't think about it either, but she was. Most of these things are after-effects. I never knew that I felt this way or why until I became an adult, sometimes through conversation with other people about their own childhoods, and sometimes watching Isabella grow. And I am so grateful for the lessons that she taught me, knowingly or otherwise.

1. She never, ever talked badly about my dad.

My parents are still married after 35 years, and like all marriages, there have been times in their journey that were not as happy as others. They don't try to hide the fact that the beginning years of their marriage were difficult, and that sometimes, having four young children was the only thing that kept them together. I remember them fighting. I remember them being so, so mad at each other. I remember that occasionally my mom would come out of the house, pile us all into the car and take us to a playground for a while, which was a special treat. I realized later she did that when she was mad at my dad and needed to be away from thue house to cool down.

But in all that, one striking thing that was missing was any negativity about our father. Even when she was mad at him, so mad she had to take all of us and leave the house, she said not one bad thing about him. At the time I didn't realize it - I noticed only what was there, not what was lacking. But as an adult, I began to see other people and hear their stories of growing up, and I was shocked when I learned that some parents feel no qualms about trashing their spouse in front of (or even to) their children. My mom never did that, and incidentally, my dad never did that about my mom either.

Now, as a wife and mother, there are times when Josh and I drive each other just a leetle bit cRaZy. But that lesson sticks. Whatever frustrations we have are between each other. It's okay for Bella to know we disagree, and it's okay for her to see us argue a point. (Her experiences watching us handle arguments will guide her in learning how to deal with differences in her own relationships.) But I have vowed to always, always be aware of what I say about Josh and how I say it. I don't want her to ever feel that I don't respect him, and I especially don't want her to copy me and exhibit that same behavior.

2. She never, ever talked badly about herself, her abilities or her body.

Again, never realized this until I was an adult. I have moments when I feel like the worst mother in the word. I have moments when I look in the mirror and think how tired and old and worn down I feel. Sometimes I don't feel pretty. Sometimes I feel like I can barely keep my head above water. Sometimes I look at moms around me and marvel that THEY can somehow keep it all together when I can obviously not. Sometimes I am overwhelmed and upset and basically, a mess.

My mom had four kids, and reason tells me that she must have felt this way. Every mom feels this way, at least at some point. I don't think it was any different for moms 30 years ago. But my mom never called herself names. She never called herself fat or ugly, a failure or a mess, even if she may have been feeling that way. Whatever she was feeling about herself on the inside, on the outside she let us believe that she thought she was smart and creative and beautiful and confident. It never occurred to me that she might feel otherwise.

Now, I have a little set of eyes watching me, and little ears taking in every word I say. Whatever I say, Bella believes to be true, and that is a very serious responsibility. She believes everything I say. So if I tell her that I'm fat and old and ugly, and that she is young and beautiful and thin, then she is going to believe me. I would inadvertently teacher her that the reason she is beautiful is because she is young and skinny...and how badly that could mess her up! How that could skew her perception of beauty and self worth! Instead, I make a conscious effort to see myself as God sees me, to be mindful of my beauty and not just my failings. It's okay to know your weaknesses, because that's what we need to acknowledge before we can actively work to correct them. But God does not want our self worth to be defined through societal standards, but through his eyes of love. And like my mother, that is what I am trying to show my daughter.

3. She let me and my sister try absolutely everything she did.

My mom is extremely artistic, resourceful and creative. She always has been. And growing up, she let my sister and I try everything she did. If she took up cake decorating, she let us try it too. If she was painting, we got to try with her. If she learned needlepoint or cross stitch or sewing, then we had our own small projects that we got to make alongside her.

At the time, it made perfect sense to me. Why would I not be allowed to use paint or play with icing? What reason could there possibly be to keep me from using resources, taking over the kitchen table or handling sharp objects? Now, of course, I have a daughter of my own and I realize how exasperating it is to include your child in everything you do. First of all, she makes a total mess of everything and then of course, she doesn't want to clean anything up, so that's a battle. And I get so much less done of my own project because she constantly needs help or supervision. It takes twice as long to teach her something as it would take to just do it myself. And it's a real test of patience when you are trying to teach someone who has the attention span of a carrot.

And yet, my mom survived it. Multiple times. And I am grateful for it, because I got to try so many things when I was little. I did art and crafts and building projects of all sorts, and some of them never amounted to anything, and some of them did, and some of those experiments turned into lifelong loves, and some were tossed away as quickly as they were started...but I got to try. My mom always let us try, and now, I try to do the same for Bella. I let her cook with me, chop vegetables and stir the pots on the stove when it would be much faster and easier to do it all myself. We get out paint and glitter and paper and glue, even when it means that I have to sweep and scrub when we're done. I want her to look back on her childhood and say, "My mom did so much cool stuff with me." Because for me, a lot of the benefit was about the memories of my mom, and I want Bella to have those same good memories of me.

There is more. I could write more, but I am running out of time and space. I've told all this to my mom before, but I feel like it was time to tell everyone else about it. Happy Mother's Day, Mimo!