The Greatest Parenting Lesson I’m Still Learning

This isn’t a parenting blog, but as my senior daughter hurdles toward the high-school finish line, I can’t help but reflect a bit on the journey we’ve been on for the last 13 years. Today I share a simple realization that has helped me tremendously; perhaps it will encourage you too.

When my daughter Lilly was in kindergarten, she was one of 13 students—three girls and 10 boys—in her class. At the end of the year, the principal told us the teacher would be switching to first grade, and that the children in her class could “loop” with her rather than be placed with one of the other first-grade instructors.

One of the girls in Lilly’s class was moving out of the district and the other was a bit of a troublemaker. But I wanted my girl to have some consistency in her life, so we elected to have her stay with her teacher so she would at least have one female in her first-grade classroom that she knew well.

We moved the summer before Lilly started fourth grade. It was a big transition—a new house, a new neighborhood, a new elementary school. And on the very first day of school, she came home talking about the new friends she had made.

That’s when it hit me—years after the fact. I had based my decision about Lilly’s first-grade situation on what probably would have made ME most comfortable when I was her age, not necessarily on what might have been best for my daughter.

This realization was incredibly eye-opening. I hesitate to call it the greatest parenting lesson I’ve learned, because I’m still learning it. I also hesitate to pass it on to others who are newer at this gig than I am, because every person is different, which means that everybody parents differently.

That said, this little bit of truth has made a big difference in how I do things around here:

My child is not me.

It might sound both super obvious and overly simplistic, but the ramifications of this statement are huge. It doesn’t matter what phase of parenting we’re currently in; it can be really easy to make assumptions and decisions about what’s best for our child based on we would have preferred, been afraid of, needed or been helped by when we were that age.

If it took us a long time to make friends when we were in first grade, we figure the same will be true for our children. If we struggled with insecurity in junior high, we assume our daughters will do the same. If we snuck around in high school, we might suspect our kids of deviousness too.

As hard as it might be to wrap our heads around this, though, our issues aren’t necessarily their issues. Phases of life that were tough for us might not be difficult for them at all.

Conversely, what seemed easy or came naturally to us—sports, music, math, etc.—might be extremely challenging for them. They’re not going to love everything we enjoyed; in fact, they might not like those activities at all.

Our children are not our clones, after all. They are uniquely created individuals, designed by God with their own wiring, personalities and interests.

I’m not saying our kids don’t get anything from us, of course. At various times in their lives (or maybe all the time), they may look like us, act like us, think like us and talk like us.

If we are paying attention, we will likely see a few problematic tendencies and traits that seem all too familiar—issues we need to help them notice and work on because we know the impact those same traits and tendencies have had in our own lives.

But again, we can’t assume that because they are like us in some ways, they are like us in every way.

A few years ago, for example, I figured that my introverted younger daughter might have trouble adjusting to middle school because certain social aspects of junior high were not fun for me. I also assumed that my more extroverted older girl would adjust to high school easily and love it as much as I did.

I was wrong on both counts. Molly hopped out of the car on the first day of sixth grade and never looked back. Lilly has done well in high school but hasn’t enjoyed it nearly as much as I did.

Had I realized these things in advance, I would have spent less time worrying about Molly. I would have sought more input from moms with older daughters about the potential challenges of transitioning to a large high school.

Going back even further, if I had fully understood how easily Lilly made friends in elementary school, I would have signed her up for a new first-grade teacher in a heartbeat.

Of course, many of these realizations that seem so apparent in retrospect are not as obvious in the heat of the moment or the day-to-day work of parenting.

We can pray for wisdom—and we should, daily. We certainly can be more intentional about examining our motivations and asking ourselves if the decisions we’re making regarding our children are truly what’s best for them.

“My child is not me” has been a helpful thought for me over the years, and I hope it is for you too. But let’s also remember that parents learn by experience at every stage, just like our kids do.

There’s no time-tested recipe for raising every child. It’s often a trial-and-error process, and grace is always a necessary ingredient.

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Whether you’re a parent or not, what is a lesson you’ve learned over the years that has helped you interact with the children in your life more effectively? Share your wisdom in the comments so we can all be encouraged by it.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.