Parenting Through the Lens of Our Past
Why Remembering Our Childhood Matters
Why Remembering Our Childhood Matters
I remember my husband telling me a story from his middle school days — a story so vivid it feels like it happened just yesterday. He had this gorgeous, curly, long mullet that his mother still gushes over to this day. But for him, that mullet came with a heavy price. His hair was different from the other boys at school. He wanted to look cool, like the others.
So, one day, he saved up his coins, marched down to the barbershop in the hood, and got himself a Cesar — a “Black boy haircut.” When he came home, his mother was devastated, heartbroken over the loss of her boy’s flowing locks. But he didn’t care.
When he shared that story with me, I saw the angst in his eyes, even all these years later. He wasn’t just talking about a haircut. He was sharing a moment of resilience, a moment of adolescent survival. That story has stuck with me ever since.
Years later, when we decided to have kids, I made one thing clear: we would never forget what it was like to be their age. Never.
I think back to seventh grade, sitting in a classroom at a Catholic school in the suburbs. One of my classmates — one of just 14 of us — had an abortion. At 12 years old, I didn’t understand what that meant. It was just another juicy rumor, something to share with my mom when I got home. But she shut that down.
She sat me down and explained, in detail, what an abortion was. She described the mental toll it could take on a girl so young and drove home the importance of compassion, the weight of understanding someone’s pain before passing judgment. That conversation changed me. It shaped how I saw the world and how I treated people. And I vowed, even as a kid, never to forget what it felt like to be on the brink of understanding, grappling with emotions bigger than myself.
As an adult, that promise still holds firm. I refuse to lose touch with what it felt like to be 12, 14, 17 — any age where the world felt overwhelming. I wanted to parent with that lens, with that compassion. I wanted to meet my kids where they were, not where I thought they should be.
But parenting isn’t a solo sport. And as much as I love my husband, I’ve realized he doesn’t hold onto those same memories in the same way. He remembers the funny stories, the good times, the highlights. But the sting of being misunderstood as a teenager? That seems to have faded for him, like a song he’s long forgotten the words to.
And so, our parenting styles clash. He’s strict and no-nonsense. I’m the compassionate one, the so-called pushover. When he says “no” and moves on, I feel compelled to offer an explanation — something my kids can take back to their friends when they’re asked why they can’t do something. To him, that’s unnecessary. To me, it’s essential.
Because I remember what it was like—the confusion, the embarrassment, the constant need to justify myself—I know how much those small moments of understanding matter and how they can shape a child’s entire world.
Parenting is tough. Marriage is tough. But the beauty lies in finding the balance. His firmness provides our kids with structure, while my compassion gives them a sense of softness. Together, we’re creating something that feels whole — something they can lean on.
Maybe that’s the real takeaway — parenting isn’t about being perfect or deciding who’s too strict or lenient. It’s about showing up every day with the determination to give our kids something better than we had. It’s about holding onto the lessons from our own struggles, remembering what it felt like to be misunderstood, and choosing to guide them with empathy and love.
My husband and I don’t always agree on how to parent, but we’re aligned on the why. We want our kids to feel valued, understood, and supported—even when the answer isn’t what they want to hear. And maybe that’s all that really matters—not that we do it perfectly but that we do it with intention and heart.
Thank you for reading! I’d love to connect with you. Visit www.shaunteyoung.com and follow me on Instagram.
If you’d like to read another article about my kids, check out this one:
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How I explained dinosaurs and faith to my curious daughtermedium.com