Before I start this one, I want to make something really clear.
There is no one right or wrong way to parent your child.
Everybody has different opinions on parenting. We all come from different families, different backgrounds and different experiences, and what works beautifully for one family might be completely wrong for another. And that's okay.
This isn't me sitting here, before I've even had my first baby, pretending I know how to be the perfect mum. I have absolutely no idea where life is going to take us with our little bub, and I'm sure there will be plenty of things I swore I'd do before becoming a mum that actual motherhood will very quickly humble me on.
These are simply some of the things I've always told myself I'd like to do as a mum.
Things I want to remember when our baby isn't a baby anymore.
──────────────────────── ♡ ────────────────────────
I Want My Child to Feel Safe Coming to Me
One of the biggest things for me is that I want my child to feel safe coming to me.
If they need someone to talk to about their feelings or emotions, I want them to know that I'm not just their mum. I'm someone who will sit down, listen and try to help in whatever way I can, without judgement.
If they've made a mistake, I want them to tell me.
If they're scared, I want them to call me.
If they've gotten themselves into a situation they don't know how to get out of, I don't want their first thought to be, “Mum is going to kill me.”
I want it to be, “I need Mum.”
That doesn't mean there won't be rules, boundaries or consequences. I'm their mum before I'm their friend, and I'm sure there will be plenty of times they'll think I'm the most unreasonable woman walking the planet.
But I never want fear of my reaction to stop my child from calling me when they genuinely need me.
And a lot of that comes from my own experience growing up.
──────────────────────── ♡ ────────────────────────
The Mum Who Raised Me
Before I tell this part of my story, I need to say something that is incredibly important to me.
I will never, ever take away from the way my mum raised my brother and me.
My mum is an incredible woman. She raised us as a single mum after everything we'd been through as a family, and she gave up so much of herself to give us the best life she possibly could.
She taught me to work hard. She taught me to love fiercely, to give to other people and to be strong when life gets really bloody hard. So much of the woman I am today exists because of her.
But my mum was also a Christian, South African, policewoman and single mother.
So when I tell you our household was strict...
Strict was an understatement!
When I was struggling badly with depression and anxiety as a teenager, I was also surrounded by teenagers doing what teenagers sometimes do — experimenting, drinking and making questionable decisions. And yes, there were times when I wanted to experiment too. Part of me wondered whether those things might quieten my brain for five minutes.
But getting caught wasn't an option.
If Mum discovered I'd tried alcohol, my bedroom could practically become a police search scene. There was no hiding anything from that woman.
If a friend was having a party, Mum didn't just drop me around the corner and wave goodbye.
Oh no.
She walked me to the front door and asked to speak to the parents.
No parents home? Back in the car.
Parents home? First question:
“Will there be alcohol here?”
Yes?
Back in the car.
No?
Wonderful. Here is Mum's name and phone number in case you need absolutely anything.
As a 26-year-old woman, I can look back at that and see a mother doing everything she possibly could to keep her daughter safe.
As a 15 or 16-year-old?
Mortifying.
All I could see was my friends being allowed to experience being teenagers while I felt like I was trapped in a cage.
And eventually, instead of stopping me from wanting those experiences, it made me feel like I had to hide them.
That's the part I want to remember when I'm raising my own child.
──────────────────────── ♡ ────────────────────────
The Night I Still Think About
There's one story from when I was around 17 that still makes the hairs on my arms stand up when I think about it.
I was sleeping at a friend's house one night when she asked if I wanted to go to her friend Brittany's place.
Sure. Whatever.
We hung out there for a little while before Brittany suggested going to see another friend of hers.
Again, I didn't think much of it.
We eventually pulled up outside a house I'd never been to before. We walked towards the front door and, looking back, the first warning sign was probably right there — the entire front door was covered in graffiti.
Brittany knocked.
A man probably somewhere around his forties answered. He had no hair, no teeth, and clearly knew Brittany.
He led us inside.
I can still picture that house.
We walked down a hallway. The first doorway on the left opened into a kitchen and lounge area, except there was barely anything in it. No proper furniture. No normal lights. Just little standalone battery-operated lights sitting in a couple of corners.
We kept walking.
The next room on your right also just had a light in the corner but in the other corner lay a mattress on the floor, completely covered in blood.
At this point, every instinct in my body was telling me: Get out of this house.
We eventually reached the end room on the left, again just with another little battery light and a couch sitting in the middle. We sat down, and within moments another four or five men came into the room and stood around us talking to Brittany.
She obviously knew them.
I didn't.
And knowing that she knew them did absolutely nothing to make me feel safer.
I think I lasted about three minutes.
I looked at my phone and said something along the lines of, “My mum's trying to call me. I think she knows I'm out. I need to go.”
And I got out of there as quickly as I could.
My friend came with me. Brittany wanted to stay.
The gut feeling my friend and I had walking out of that house was something I can't properly describe. We both knew something about that place wasn't right.
Three days later, I saw a news article about a girl who had been murdered.
When I saw the men involved, my heart sank.
They were the same men who had been standing in that room with us just days earlier.
And no — before you're wondering — the girl wasn't Brittany.
I have thought about that night so many times since.
I think about how easily something could have happened. I think about how little I knew about where I was going. And I think about the fact that the person who probably would have moved heaven and earth to get me out of that house — my mum — was the person I was too scared to tell where I actually was.
From that day on, I knew there was something I wanted to do differently if I ever became a mum.
──────────────────────── ♡ ────────────────────────
Call Me. I Will Come and Get You.
I know this next one will probably be controversial for some parents.
And that's okay.
I'm not telling anybody else how to raise their children. I'm talking about what I hope to do with mine.
When my child reaches those teenage years, I want honesty to be safer than sneaking around.
If they're 16 or 17 and their friends are starting to experiment with alcohol, I'd rather have a conversation about it than pretend it isn't happening.
If my teenager comes to me and says, “Mum, my friends are drinking and I want to try it,” I'd rather know about it. I'd rather be able to talk about safety, boundaries and consequences, let them try it at home rather than have them secretly trying something somewhere I know absolutely nothing about.
If they're going to a party, I want to know where they are. I want to know who they're with. I want them to understand things like never leaving a drink unattended or accepting something when they don't know what's in it.
And most importantly:
I want them to know I'll come and get them.
If it's midnight, call me.
If it's 2am, call me.
If you've done something you know you're not supposed to do, call me anyway.
If your friends disappear, call me.
If someone is making you uncomfortable, call me.
If you've had too much to drink, call me.
If you can't explain why but something in your gut is screaming that you need to leave, CALL. ME.
We can deal with everything else tomorrow.
I would rather drag myself out of bed in my pyjamas at 3am, absolutely unimpressed with whatever decision you've made, knowing you're sitting safely beside me in the car, than have you stay somewhere dangerous because you're more frightened of me than you are of the situation you're in.
Because I've been that teenager.
And I never want my child to feel like sneaking around is their only option.
──────────────────────── ♡ ────────────────────────
And Mum, If You're Reading This...
I feel like I need to finish this part by saying it again because I never want anything I've written here to be mistaken for criticism of my mum.
She did the best she possibly could with the circumstances we'd been through, and she gave my brother and me everything she had.
At 15, 16 and 17, there were absolutely moments when I thought that woman was my worst enemy.
Today? She's my best friend.
I call her about five times a day to tell her every insignificant detail of my life, ask her questions I could probably answer myself and generally keep her updated on things she absolutely did not request an update on. I see her at least every other day, and there are very few people in this world I'm closer to.
Becoming pregnant has actually made me appreciate her in ways I don't think I could have before.
Now I'm starting to understand the terrifying responsibility of loving this little person so much that all you want to do is protect them from everything.
My mum's rules came from love.
And when I become a mum, so will mine.
I just hope I can take everything she taught me — the strength, work ethic, generosity, loyalty and unconditional love — and combine it with the things my own experiences have taught me along the way.
I won't get everything right.
I'm sure there will be days when my child is convinced I'm ruining their life.
But if, one day when they're grown, they can say what I can say about my own mum now —
“She's my mum, but she's also the person I can call about absolutely anything.”
Then I think I'll have done something right. 🤍
──────────────────────── ♡ ────────────────────────
0 comments