A little less than two years ago, my very best friend in the whole wide world and I took a trip to Disney World to celebrate Halloween. I know, I know—it’s May. We’re not talking about spooky scary skeletons, Ali, we’re talking about mamas. Patience.
We were on our “best friend babymoon,” our last chance to be the kids before we welcomed the first child into our little village. At one point, riding a monorail dressed as the iconic best friend duo from The Princess Diaries, she asked me, “Given all the time you’ve spent with kids, what’s your one best piece of advice for new parents?”
Funny enough, I’m not a parent yet. But after nearly a decade caring for children—and stepping in to raise my younger sister when our mom couldn’t be present—I’ve had my fair share of wiping spills, butts, faces, and tears (both mine and their’s). So I thought, not just about what I’d say to any new parent, but what I’d want her—one of the best people I’ve ever known—to remember on that proverbial dark night of the parental soul.
I could’ve rattled off parenting philosophies, values-based childrearing tidbits, or launched into a full verbal dissertation on the differences between gentle parenting, attachment theory, and whatever RIE is (spoiler: different, but kinda not). I could’ve told her to choose her battles wisely, to avoid the comparison trap of curated Instagram motherhood, or reminded her that her toddler will probably get more out of a $10 salad spinner than that curated $250 Montessori quarterly box set.
But I didn’t.
Because what I’ve learned—what all of that other advice depends on—really comes down to this:
Don’t forget to parent yourself.
To me, raising children is just as much about parenting them as it is about reparenting you. We don’t enter parenthood as blank slates. We bring with us a confusing potpourri of past experiences, beliefs, and half-truths that quietly shape how we react to our children. Things that make our brains fire with “Why won’t they listen?” “Why are they crying again?” “Why am I crying again?” “Why am I so bad at this?” “My kid isn’t hitting their milestones—have I failed them?” “My kid is so different from others—what’s wrong with them? Actually, what’s wrong with me?”
But then, if we’re lucky—or exhausted—we pause. We take a breath. We hear that familiar voice in our heads and realize, wait. This isn’t just about my child. This is about me—and all the grown-ups who didn’t see me, hear me, or offer the patience I’m trying so hard to offer now. And while most of us are so grateful to give our children what we didn’t get, there might also be a tiny, quiet part of us that aches. Maybe even resents. Because, yes, watching someone else receive what you were denied can be healing— but it can also, deeply painful. (That’s what we here at Cheerful Helpers call “double dip feelings.”)
So instead of spinning out in the traffic jam of your own mind, you take a moment to chill. You make some space for the frustration and sadness and grief. You tell yourself what your best self would tell your child mid-meltdown:
“I know. It’s hard. Things don’t always go to plan; you can be mad and sad and disappointed. And you can stay safe and stay friendly— all at once. I will still love you and I will keep you safe. That’s my job.”
(That’s aspirational, though. Let’s be real. Sometimes it’s more like, “Dude, be cool.”)
And then, maybe next time your kid scales the refrigerator or screams something profane in public (“Where did they even learn that?”) or goes scuba diving in the toilet or, you know, bites you, you may just find yourself pausing. Breathing. Not immediately reacting from old wiring, but from someplace less electric—someplace softer. From the part of you that’s working so hard to give your child—and yourself—what you needed back then but never got. To me, that’s the most beautiful part of raising kids: parenting you both, figuring it out together.
“Parent both of you”— that’s what I’d tell my favorite new mom (or parent).
And, on that note, Happy Mother’s Day. You’re doing great. (Told you I’d get there.)
