The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

The following is a PSA for grandparents (especially grandmothers):

Disclaimer: Before you read this please know you were a good mom. Our childhoods? MAGICAL. You did the very best you could the only way you knew how, and it was PERFECT. We felt your love every single moment of every single day and we wouldn’t change a thing!

Now, there are a few things we (meaning your daughters and daughters-in-law) need you to know to make OUR lives (and hence, YOUR lives) a little bit easier and more enjoyable.

1. We are still your daughters.
We still need the same things we needed from you when we were little girls. Namely your love, support, and praise. This will never change. You will always be our moms and we will always need you in ways we can’t explain.

2. We do not want your advice.
We know this sounds crazy.

We know you have good ideas.

You’ve been through this already!

You’ve done the teething and tantrums. You’ve lived through potty-training and a child adjusting to kindergarten. You’ve managed that weird obnoxious stage that happens at the end of 4th grade. You’ve muddled through middle school and puberty and high school and boyfriends and driving and applying to college.

WE KNOW!

But we are telling you . . . YOU HAVE ALREADY HAD YOUR TURN!!!

We desperately need to figure this out on our own. To find our own way. Our own methods.

Our little families are different from yours. Times are different now. We are navigating different challenges.

And maybe this sounds harsh but, it really isn’t about you anymore.

When we call you for advice, we mostly want you to ask questions and figure out what WE think is best and then tell us it sounds like a really great, well-thought-out plan.

Because your advice?

It always sounds like criticism.

We know that’s not true. We know you are well-intentioned.

But somehow, your advice makes us feel BAD. And we already feel like failures nearly every single moment of every single day.

When you tell a story about potty-training while we are in the middle of potty-training?

Or you tell a story about how you handled tantrums or feeding issues or whatever while we are navigating those issues?

Criticism.

Tell those stories to your girlfriends or your sisters or your neighbors, but please don’t tell them to us.

3. Follow and support our rules.
We read a lot of books. And Facebook stories. And Pinterest posts. We know there are A LOT of varied (possibly crazy) methods out there.

WE KNOW!!

We are navigating it all and trying to figure out what works best for our little families.

We need your support here even when you don’t agree. 

Breastfeeding until age four? Formula feeding? Baby wearing? Baby-led weaning? The family bed? Cry-it-out methods? Organic foods? Homemade baby food? Store-bought baby food? Teaching an infant to swim? Baby sign language? Montessori preschool? Gluten free? Dairy free? Food allergies? Carseats? Rear-facing carseats until age two? Time-outs? Technology? ADHD? Extreme-child parenting? Free-range parenting? Competition sports for a three-year-old?

Oh, my goodness. WE KNOW.

We are taking in all the rules. All the methods. All the advice. All the studies. All the things we read and trying to make our best-informed decisions for what works for each individual child and our own family.

PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE FOLLOW OUR LEAD.

Don’t throw out all the rules at grandma’s house.

Please don’t feed our children junk or tree nuts because you don’t buy into whatever diet we’ve chosen to follow.

Please don’t give them ice cream five minutes before we come to pick them up for our 6 p.m. dinner.

Please don’t buy them an abundance of gifts if we are focusing on a simple, frugal Christmas.

Please don’t say things like, “Well, your mom doesn’t like this or do that, so I can’t give it to you,” or whisper, “Don’t tell Mommy,” when you pass candy to our two-year-olds on the sly.

Please don’t discipline our children while we are standing right there in the room.

Please don’t try to circumvent our discipline or somehow “make up” for the consequences we’ve doled out to our children.

This undermining makes us feel stupid and awful and unimportant and, well, ANGRY.

We are constantly second-guessing ourselves already and WE NEED YOU TO SUPPORT US AS THE MOMS!

4. Ask a lot of questions.
Those rules? Our methods?

Just ask.

Ask things like, “What meal works best for your family when you come over for dinner?” then give a couple of options.

Say things like, “We’d love to come to a few soccer games this season. Would you be okay with that? Are there any dates that work best for you?”

When we have a new baby ask something like, “What is the best way I can be helpful to you? Would you rather I come hold the baby so you can get out of the house or take a shower? Or would you rather I come help with dinner or errands or laundry so you can snuggle the baby on the couch?”

And when it comes to the holidays, we’d sure appreciate an attitude like this, “I’ve already had my turn. I want YOU to have a special holiday with your little family and make some of your own memories. We’d like to be a part in any way we can. How would YOU like to celebrate Christmas together?”

Follow up with questions like, “What day works best for you?? Would it be easier if we scheduled it on a different weekend? Would you like to exchange gifts or would you rather we just plan a special day together? Is there anything I can bring? Or any help you need?”

5. We need your praise. 
If you take anything away from this lengthy rant (that probably has a few women crying), please remember this: on the inside we are still like insecure 12-year-old girls.

We NEED you to see how hard we try. We NEED you to see our goodness. We NEED you to point out and celebrate our successes.

You are our mothers and we need you to really see us and respect our new role as moms. 

The very best gift you can ever give is saying something like this, “You are a really good mom. I just love watching you be a mom to your little ones. Your kids are amazing. I don’t know how you do it all. I am so proud of you!”

We’re serious. That’s all we need!

We will cry all the tears over praise like this coming from the women we admire most: our moms.

You may also like: 

Dear Mom, Thanks for Still Mothering Me in This Exhausting Stage of Motherhood

So God Made a Grandma

To My Mom: I Get It Now

Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here!

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

Soon There Will Be No More Breakfasts To Make

In: Grown Children, Motherhood, Teen
Ten boy eating breakfast at kitchen counter

T-minus 44 days until a new beginning- Math has never been my strong suit or my favorite subject, but it will be about 19 years spent rising and trying to shine in our house. Nineteen years of prepping one, two, or all three of our sons to get up and ready for school. Nineteen years of making breakfast. Nineteen years of making lunches. For those of you in the thick of it right now, you know exactly what I mean. I think my husband Steve and I have it down to a science now. If we had to do it...

Keep Reading

I’m Going to Tell You the Things Your Mom Should Have Told You

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother with three grown daughters

During my oldest daughter’s freshman year of college, I started being haunted by a recurring dream of an old-fashioned suitcase—one of those hard-sided ones that’s as big as they come. In the dream, when I open the suitcase, it’s overflowing with clothing, shoes, and all kinds of stuff that belongs to me and each of my three daughters. Everything in the suitcase is all jumbled together. Nobody else in the dream is worried about sorting through everything, but I am totally stressed about it. To top it all off, I have to deal with this suitcase while preparing for a...

Keep Reading

The Half-Dressed Mom and Love in the Details

In: Motherhood
Woman sitting with coffee cup and book on bed

I am a proper mom. Not fancy, not prim—practical. I am dressed for the time of day, always. That is simply who I am. Except for this morning. This morning I was in a towel, bracing the bathroom counter, writhing in pain, and trying not to scream loud enough to disturb the neighbors. I had seen a specialist just the day before. He’d said I needed six weeks to heal before they could do further exploration. What he hadn’t said—what I hadn’t understood—was how much the healing itself would hurt. My 23-year-old daughter, Aislyn, found me like that. Panicked. Half-dressed....

Keep Reading

Mommy, Will You Play With Me?

In: Kids, Motherhood
Boy sitting in middle of toys smiling

With four kids at three different schools, our days are full. Between sports practices, music lessons, clubs, rehearsals, games, meets, and playdates, it feels like we’re constantly heading somewhere. I love that my children are involved in activities, but occasionally, it’s nice to have some downtime. When I get a text or email that a practice has been canceled, it’s usually a huge relief. Last week, after-school sports were cancelled due to heavy rain. When I picked up my youngest son from school, I told him we’d be going straight home for the rest of the afternoon. He looked surprised....

Keep Reading

Could We Take a Page from the ’80s and Stop Overparenting?

In: Kids, Motherhood

I have a confession: Yesterday I let my 11-year-old play with fire. Like literally. We live in the country, there is still wet snow on the ground, and he’s done it with his dad at least 20 times. But yesterday was the fifth consecutive day of no school, and probably the twentieth consecutive day of him asking to have a small fire without dad. Part of me did it out of laziness. Part of me did it out of selfishness. And part of me did it out of nostalgia. Here’s the thing—when I was 11, I was already babysitting (like...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

Good Mothers Bake from Scratch, and Other Lies I’ve Believed

In: Motherhood
Smiling women in selfie outside

I am standing at the kitchen counter, spooning banana mix into a muffin tin, when my daughter makes a proposal. “How about dis . . . ?” Presley begins, pausing for dramatic effect. “How about I put four chocolate chips on each muffin because dat’s how old I am?” I smile at her logic. Once every pink polka-dotted liner is filled with batter and topped with exactly four chocolate chips, I place both tins on the middle rack and set a timer. Presley runs out of the room and returns with her plastic step stool, placing it directly in front...

Keep Reading

My ‘Dusty Son’ is 5

In: Living, Motherhood
Little boy holding out dandelion bouquet

As moms, we categorize everything. Girl mom. Boy mom. Wine mom. Outdoor mom. Farm mom. City mom. Now there’s been an uptick in social media trends about exposing our girls to worldly and fancy experiences so someday they’re “not impressed by your dusty son.” I won the parenting jackpot (in my humble opinion) and have an older daughter and a younger son. He’s five. Not a grown man making real-world decisions. Not a college kid learning how to adult. He’s five. He loves dinosaurs and Mario. His big sissy and his Great Dane. He is incapable of cruelty and is...

Keep Reading

These Little Moments Are Everything

In: Motherhood
Mother embracing young child who is kissing her cheek

I almost missed it, my little one. How your eyebrows lift in quiet concentration as you carefully place each block, adding a new wall to your tiger castle. The way you say “scoop over, mom” and shuffle closer to me until our legs touch. “Just one second, bud.” The mantra of all busy moms. I almost missed your blonde hair flying wild as you bounce on the trampoline, that belly laugh that makes the whole world feel soft. I almost missed it. How you close your eyes as you crack the biggest, cheekiest smile when I tickle your belly, giggling...

Keep Reading