By: Jamie Collins
Updated: Dec. 21, 2020
Originally Published: November 23, 2016
I’m chatting with my mom when I get a bit reflective about parenting. “You know, every generation of parents seems to think their kids are spoiled,” I mention. I say this because my daughter has never experienced the full-blown terror of a real yelling match—eyes bulging, voices raised to glass-shattering levels. To her, a stern tone is equivalent to screaming. She’s blissfully unaware of how fortunate she truly is, which is exactly what I tell my mom. We share a laugh.
Mom remembers well the days she’d chase me around with a wooden spoon, and I’d often hide it before she could get to me. Nothing quite compares to the thrill of seeing your furious mother stride to the kitchen, drawer creaking open like a scene from a horror movie, and… nothing. I had successfully hidden that spoon.
I can still vividly recall the punishment of Tabasco sauce on my tongue, leaving me in the bathroom praying for relief while my taste buds were on fire. My daughter, on the other hand, equates the threat of losing Wi-Fi access as a life-altering punishment. “Change that attitude, or you can kiss the internet goodbye,” I warned her tonight. The change was instantaneous.
Looking back at the kinds of punishments my parents faced from their own folks, it seems I was raised by a couple of benevolent spirits. But if I’m honest, it felt more like a dictatorship combined with a diet-obsessed parent who was much better at tongue lashings than follow-through with a wooden spoon.
Dad was one of seven kids growing up in a strict Irish Catholic household where his parents once chained him to a tree as a lesson. I can’t even imagine how long that lasted, but it gives me pause. Just the other day, I saw someone complaining about a mom leaving her child unattended at a playground. At least I wasn’t tied to a tree, I thought, and yet here I am, calling him Dad. Calm down, high school Facebook friend, you’re killing my vibe!
Mom had to lift weights daily after school because her father thought she was getting too heavy. She’d sometimes faint from the rigorous workouts. Meanwhile, I spent entire summers glued to daytime soap operas, munching on dry Rice Krispies Treats cereal in bed. My daughter, in contrast, devours what feels like a billion hours of entertainment across various screens, often multitasking with a tablet, laptop, and even a TV show. I hold onto the hope that all this screen time will somehow lead her to a bright future as a director or comedian, instead of just becoming a couch potato with no direction—but I’ll be the one to blame if that happens.
It’s not that I want to chase my kid with a wooden spoon; it’s just that this parenting journey of “breaking the cycle” is anything but glamorous. It’s filled with kids who don’t know any better and think you’re a monster for setting limits. There should be a disclaimer in parenting books about expecting zero validation—it would be way too real.
The best parents are the ones without kids. Most don’t dive into parenting for selflessness; they either think they have all the answers their parents didn’t or they just roll with the punches after a surprise pregnancy. Honestly, what crashes down first when you become a parent—the hormones or the overconfidence?
Maybe your parents adored you completely, and you can’t relate to any of this. Bless you—you might be human or possibly an alien?
As my mom and I continue to laugh until we can barely breathe, I realize that perhaps I truly did have it better. Maybe I was, dare I say, a bit spoiled. After all, I wasn’t chained to a tree, nor did I undergo forced exercise until I passed out. My parents, full of quirks and flaws, had a way of expressing disappointment that felt more like a badge of honor than a punishment. But with my own child, “I’m disappointed in you” carries the weight of a thousand wooden spoons. Just like me, she has no clue how fortunate she is. And maybe that’s the point.
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Summary:
This humorous reflection on parenting highlights the generational differences in discipline and the often-unrecognized privileges of today’s children. The author shares personal anecdotes contrasting their upbringing with their child’s experience, ultimately leading to the realization that kids today are often blissfully unaware of how fortunate they are. The piece invites readers to consider the evolution of parenting while maintaining a light-hearted tone.