SMART PARENTING TIPS episode #2: Kids Want To Talk, They Are Just Scared Of Being Judged or Misunderstood.
...smart ways to raise smartphone kids!
Pent up feelings of guilt, anger, and quiet pains came rushing out. I held him for as long as he needed to be held. No hurry. No Rushing him. He was the only thing that mattered.
There must be something about my kitchen, that makes it the place of choice for deep conversations. Maybe the spice-filled air.
Oh yes, I am the spice queen!
I love experimenting with different spices, from different cultures.
And I love seeing them lined up in fancy bottles on my Kitchen cabinet. And I love how the right spice can elevate an otherwise simple meal. Spices usually bring the umph!
Maybe it also have a way of breaking down guards. My kids’ guard at least.
But between me and you though, I suspect that it’s because the kitchen is that one place you can catch me without my nose deep in my phone, laptop or a book. “Sighs”
But I can tell you this one thing for sure, I have had several unexpectedly deep conversations with my kids in that space.
Now as they do in any good movie, let's flash back to the one conversation that transformed my kitchen into a safe sanctuary for the divulgement of Classified-level teenage secrets.
So earlier on this fateful day, 12 year old Ujay had mentioned that he will like to talk to me whenever I can find the time. So I planned to clear my work table and sort out dinner, then I could give him my undivided attention.
But whilst cooking that evening, dude just burst into the kitchen with a look on his face and said, “Mom I want to talk to you now”.
Okay this is serious.
I quickly killed the Burner. Covered my pot. Cheffing can wait. In fact the world can wait!
We sat down. And I zoomed in on him. At that moment, he was the only thing in my world.
(Truth be told, I didn't really know what I was expecting to hear. But I internally braced myself for any possible outcome. I won't freak out. I was going to be his stability, whatever the case)
So I calmly asked, “what is the matter, Ujay?”
And my son started talking.
Initially, he was picking his words carefully. His eyes intently on my face. (Thank God tha my poker is tight-face game- I was a lake, no movement whatsoever! )
I wanted to be sure I heard him. That I hear both what he is saying and what he may not be saying. It's called active listening.
He was telling me how he was beginning to feel things for girls. And even how he stumbled on stuff he was not supposed to watch on YouTube. (I was still the one who curates channels for them. But YouTube recommendation algorithm, apparently was playing the agent of satan) 😞
Now my son is so worried he has offended God. And also that he had let me down.
He paused at a point and asked- “are you not upset with me? Or even shocked?”
I said “upset? Why? No!”
I told him that his feelings towards the opposite gender are natural and normal. In fact, I would have been worried if he’s not feeling them.
I told him that his feelings are not the problem. But how he handles these feelings, is what greatly matter. Which is why I am really happy that he is talking to me about them. We can help him to correctly navigate them.
With that, a flood gate was let open! There was an outpouring.
He started dialing back to stuff that happened from when he was as young as seven. Things we knew nothing about. Bullying and physically abusive situations, that happened even under our roof. Cruel acts perpetrated by a narcissist cousin, a cousin who was helping us take care of them, while we worked. This girl successfully gaslighted them into keeping silent.
I sat there listening to him. Looking very cool, very wise and very unmoved.
But inside, a storm was raging.
A storm of conflicting emotions. I had this sick feeling coming from my pit of my stomach. I was feeling like I failed him. That I didn't protect him enough. I was also very angry. The impotent kind.
But at the same time, I recognised that moment for what it was-a gift. At that moment my son was giving me the gift of his confidence. The gift of his vulnerability.
He trusts me!
He trusts me enough to share his deepest feelings and confusion with me. Ha! this is the kind of mothering i signed up for.
This is gold.
We need this level of trust from our kids, if we are to effectively partner with them in their journey to adulthood.
This kind of communication is what will make that transition more seamless and with less bumps on the way.
So you must cherish any opportunity that allows you into your child’s mind and thought process. It's not a time to be defensive or judgemental.
The first draft of this week's newsletter didn’t have this story. But I decided to add it and even make it the center of this conversation, after I read
’s narration of how his parents reacted when they found his diary.His parents rather than seeing the content of the said diary as feedback, instead they saw it as an attack on them as parents. This could happen to the best of us. Most of us as parents, are trying so hard to do our best for our kids. So anything that suggests that we are failing, is an enemy that must be attacked.
So here was I, trying not to take this feedback as an indictment on my parenting capabilities. But I chose to receive it as an invitation to enter into his world. A chaotic world for him at that point.
You can read Tobi’s account on
When My Parents Found My Diary.That story broke my heart for two reasons.
One, because of the long-lasting negative impact that type of reaction could have on a kid. And two, because I understand that they only reacted the best way they know.
But I know it can be better.
That’s why I decided to share this story-perhaps, it will save some other children such pain. And also help some parents make the most of such moments when they encounter them.
That said, back to me and Ujay in the kitchen confessional.
When he was done talking. I asked him why he chose to talk to me. I told him that he could have chosen to talk to one of his friends instead , or even kept it to himself. Why did he choose to talk to me? I really was curious. I want to be able to replicate this experience over and over again. So I want to know what role I played in making it happen.
He shrugged his shoulders and said “I believe you have figured out this life thing.” “you understand how life works” (I take this as a huge compliment, coming from an adolescent. Because at that age myself, I saw my parent as so out of touch! God forgive me😀).
As a side note - know that your kids are really paying attention to how you engage life, and the results you getting. They are watching you, more than you realize. But this is a conversation for another day.
In response, I drew him into a tight hug. I thanked him for trusting me with his confidence, I told him that I do not take it for granted. And I didn't.
Now the flood gate of tears was let open!
My usually cool son, cried like I haven't seen him cry since he was a baby.
Pent up feelings of guilt, anger, and quiet pains came rushing out. I held him for as long as he needed to be held. No hurry. No Rushing him. He was the only thing that mattered.
After that therapeutic teary session, (you know that tears can have a magical cleansing power?) we talked for another two hours or so. Now we were more relaxed . (Who needs dinner, when you can bond over tears?)
Anyways, at this stage I can ask questions. I asked for more details. By the time we were done, he told me that he had prepared an edited version of what he wanted to share with me. But that somehow he found himself telling me everything.
It must be the kitchen!
After that conversation, my relationship with my son changed in such a great and deep way. My formerly very closed-lipped son, now can't stop talking to me. We talk about everything- school, faith, friends, his adventure with tech, his projects, girls. (yes, girls too), etc etc.
Maybe next week’s newsletter will be another Spilling-My-Guts-To-Mom episode, but this time, it will be the girl’s edition. Issie had her own “I'm-feeling-feelings” moments about a year later.
But now, let's talk about the value of raising expressive kids. You know, the type who have confidence in their unique voice?
Being expressive holds immense value, not just for the children but for you as their parents.
Do you know the one reason why you are reading this insightful piece here on Substack today? The reason why I can claim the title of a Writer?
I’mma tell ya!
You are here today, reading this newsletter, because my teenage son came up with this strange idea of me writing as a means of livelihood.
And I listened!
Me a writer??
It had never, ever occurred to me that I could write- (you know, in the professional sense.) until he mentioned it.
But this child appears to know me, beyond how I have dared to know myself. And better still he can talk to me. He has been raised to believe in the power of his own voice.
It is very important that we get young children to believe that their opinion counts. They need it. We need it. That voice might be what you need for your redirection, like in my case.
Let me share the story of how my kids got me to discover that I am a writer!
One day in February this year, I was in the kitchen cooking up a storm as usual. (Yes the kitchen again 😀)
Ujay strolls in. We made small talk. And out of the blue, he casually said “Mommy you do know you can write and get paid for it?” ‘There are sites that can pay you to write”.
In my mind I was like- “Write and get paid?”
“What is he talking about?”
“Where is this coming from?”
In fact, I was silently saying to myself - “write and get paid?” “From where to where? (In Nigeria Speak, this could mean “Are you out of your mind??”)
But audibly, I calmly said to him, “Okay, I will explore those possibilities.”
That response came, primarily because it’s my default to always make them feel that they have something worth listening to. The response was for him.
But little did I know how life-changing that little conversation was for me. I didn't realize it yet, but I just got the answer to the question I started off the year with.- ”Lord, what exactly would you have me do now? And how?”
You see at 52, I want to live for purpose. I want to live for impact. I want to start living for legacy.
But I digress.
Well, not really.
So “I kindly” said to my dear son. “Send me the links to some of those sites, and I will check them out later.”
He said okay.
But I didn't get anything from him.
I believed he has moved on, in typical Ujay fashion. So I moved on too. But not so.
About a week or two later, my daughter entered the conversation.
It was a similar kitchen moment and very casual too. In fact, too casual. (Something tells me that those two little non-paying tenants in my house , have been discussing my matter behind my back. But I choose not to investigate.)
I noticed she was scrolling up and down my phone. Nothing new here. It's “our” phone after all.
But after a while, she raised head and the following conversation ensued:
Issie: “Mom, I have been researching some of those sites, and I have sieved them down to 5.”
Me:??
(Now I know that I didn't tell her anything about my conversation with Ujay. And if I'm the swearing type, I would have sworn also that she wasn't within earshot that day). I'm sure my conspiracy theory is making sense now , right?
But she continued like we have been discussing this all our lives, “Should I find out what their different requirements are?”
I told her to go ahead.
She found out that 3 out of the 5 sites don't accept Nigerians. So that leaves us with just Medium and one other site.
Okay, I know Medium. Kind of.
Wherever I am researching any topic online, a number of writers on Medium seem to have useful information on whatever.
I even have an account. A free one.
I promised her that I will do more thorough research.
Needless to say, but by now my curiosity and interest has been piqued.
So that night, I went into a full exploratory mode.
I found that Medium was the most likely option. But something about their system didn't settle well with me.
For instance, they need me to upgrade to a paid subscription, for me to start writing
Like! Are you serious?
I wasn't even sure that I am the writing type. And Medium you want me to pay to find out??
Nah! Not this Nigerian Igbo woman. We are very business-minded with our money please.
Then I remembered Substack!
Viv, my friend and partner had signed us up for it in our joint venture- The Boss Mom Hangout.
I checked them out then and even created an account. But I didn't quite understand what it's all about. I know that some of the emails in our inbox, originates from there. But that's about all.
So I spent the next day researching and exploring Substack. It looked like fun.
Then I read this piece How To Style The Hair of a Person Who Is Trying To Run Away From You by
. It was hilarious. But above all it accurately reflected my own experience with my daughter when she was same age. It was a reminder of how at the core, humans are the same. Just cultural differences.Her writing style was so free. So me. In that moment, it just clicked! I have found home! The people here will get me!!
Upon reading that newsletter two things happened simultaneously.
🔸I realized that I will have the freedom to evolve my own writing style here on Substack, without being penalized by the algorithm.
🔸I also had that instant illumination on why I never seriously considered online writing. I realized at that moment, that the reason was that I want to write stuff that real people need. This is as opposed to writing to please the algorithm.
Let me confess here- SEO drains me!
I kind of feel like a fraud, trying to infuse words and stuff just to be SEO compliant ( please note that this is personal. There's nothing wrong with being SEO compliant. In fact, you should, if you want to reach many people with your service or product.).
But I realized that here in Substack, I can choose not to, and still thrive. It was liberating!
I created an account. Explored some more. On the 4th of April 2024, I sent out my first newsletter. I'm a writer!
And here we are today, 10 weeks later:
🔸8 publications
🔸77 subscribers ( 99% of them complete strangers spread across the world)
🔸188 followers on Note
🔸And above all, an indescribable sense of fulfillment!
Substack truly feels like home. A home that my kids helped me find.
This whole journey started because my 14 year old son believes in the influence of his voice. Even towards me, his Mom.
Do you know how much we potentially lose as families or as a society, when we are dismissive of our young people? How much is lost when we don't train them to stand in the power of their own voice.
They lose. We lose too. But it doesn't have to be so.
You must endeavor to make your kids feel that their opinion count.
And this kind of parent-child relationship doesn't happen overnight.
It is nurtured. It is encouraged. It is patiently cultivated.
My journey with Ujay started about 3 years ago. I wrote all about it here. You might want to take a look at how my transition happened in the publication below.
The desire of every parent is to make life better for their kids. And to be able to effectively do this, we must be willing to let go of what we think their lives should be. And be open to exploring with them, discovering who they really are, and what truly lights them up.
They need this light, if they are to brighten their own little corner of the earth with joy!
I hope I have earned the privilege of your time?
See you in my next post.
Kachifo!
May Morris-kawel XoXo
you’re so thoughtful, Madam May for featuring my post.
thank you for seeing me. You’re doing a great job with this substack and the audience is waiting and lurking.
I’ve told you this in your dm and i’ll say it publicly again: You’ll be amazed where this journey takes you. Just you wait!
“So earlier on this fateful day, 12 year old Ujay had mentioned that he will like to talk to me whenever I can find the time.”
that’s so cute and empathetic that he respects your time at a young age.