Mother’s Day Reflections: When "Winging It" Brought Me Face to Face with My Inner Child

Mother’s Day always brings a swell of emotion—gratitude, nostalgia, maybe even a few tears (and let’s be honest, a strong cup of coffee or even a mimosa, depending on the day). As a mom, for me it’s a time to celebrate our children, reflect on the journey of motherhood, and—if you’re anything like me—wonder how we made it this far without a manual.

Because let’s be real… there is no guidebook. We all just kind of wing it. We Google it. We try to be patient. Some days we’re crushing it with Pinterest-worthy lunches and patient conversations feeling like rockstars. 

Other days, our greatest victory is hiding in the bathroom sneaking a snack, or finally peeing in peace. And that's ok. (And if you’ve done both? That’s elite mom status.)

Wait… Am I Parenting Like My Dad?

When I became a co-parent, I was determined to do it right. (or different)

I always thought I’d parent differently. Gentler. More present. More me.
I wanted to be the calm one. The understanding one.
The parent who saw the emotional weight divorce placed on my kids.
Two homes. Two routines. Two sets of rules. And a whole lot of feelings they didn’t have the words for yet.  

I knew how disruptive it was. I felt the ache of it right alongside them.
So I tried to be the soft place to land—the steady presence in all the upheaval.

But somewhere along the way, I noticed something uncomfortable…

I noticed I wasn't parenting from who I am. I was parenting from where I came from. 

I wasn’t always parenting from that place of intention.
Sometimes, I was parenting from survival. From old scripts.
From the very patterns I promised I’d break.

I started hearing my dad’s voice in my own.
Not because I wanted to, but because that’s what was familiar.

Even with all my awareness, my nervous system still reverted to the parenting model I grew up with—firm, reactive, perfection-focused. And suddenly, I wasn’t just trying to support my kids through their new reality, I was reliving my old one.

I had this moment where I realized my tone, my expectations, even my reactions weren’t mine. They were echoes. Echoes of how I was raised. Of my dad’s firm rules, and need for things to look a certain way.

I wasn’t trying to repeat the past. I was trying to be a great co-parent. But somewhere along the way, I slipped into old patterns I hadn’t even consciously chosen.

Turns Out, I Brought My Childhood with Me

Most of us do.
It’s not intentional—it’s conditioning.

Our nervous systems remember what “parenting” looked and felt like when we were kids. And for me, I didn’t just watch it, I lived it.

By the time I was 10, I had already stepped into a mother figure role. Not by choice, but by necessity.
I was reading the room before I ever read chapter books, scanning for mood shifts, measuring my words, deciding if it was safe to speak or better to stay quiet.
I learned early that being helpful, responsible, and emotionally in tune made things more manageable for everyone else.

That version of me—the hyperaware, over-functioning, always-on girl—grew up.
And she became a mom.

So when life got hard or chaotic or uncertain, she was the one who showed up.
She knew how to hold it together. She knew how to keep the peace.
But she also brought patterns I didn’t realize I still carried.

We say things we swore we’d never say.
We react in ways that surprise us.
And sometimes, we catch ourselves thinking—whoa… that didn’t feel like me.

Because sometimes, it isn’t. It’s an old protector. A younger version of us still running the show.

The Guilt That Sneaks In When We Start to Heal

Here’s the part no one really warns you about:
When you start recognizing the ways your childhood shaped you. How you show up as a parent, a partner, a person and that you don’t always feel empowered right away.
Sometimes, you feel a wave of shame.

Shame that maybe you’re being ungrateful.
Guilt that naming your pain might sound like you're criticizing your parents.
Fear that even acknowledging what hurt could somehow erase all the good.

I felt that.

Because the truth is, I love my parents. I know they loved me too.
But when you grow up reading the room before speaking, when you step into the “responsible one” role at age ten, when you try so hard to keep things peaceful that you forget your own needs, you can’t unsee how that shapes you.

And you start to realize:
This isn’t just about them.
It’s about her—your inner child.
The one who learned to stay quiet.
The one who tried to fix things.
The one who needed safety but often settled for survival.

That’s when the healing really begins.

The Moment I Realized I Wasn’t Just Parenting My Kids

One day, I lost my patience. We all do it. Nothing huge, just one of those tired, stretched-too-thin moments where something small sets you off.
I raised my voice.
And then I saw the look on my child’s face and my heart sank.

It was a look I recognized.
Because I’d worn that same look as a kid.

That moment hit hard. I wasn’t just reacting to the present, I was reacting from old habits. From old emotions. From a version of me that had to grow up too fast and carry too much.

And that’s when I realized something important, a pivotal moment.
This wasn’t just about how I was parenting my kids.
It was also about how I was still carrying my own story. The one I hadn’t fully healed.

That moment became a turning point.
I knew I couldn’t expect myself to always get it right.
But I could slow down.
I could notice when I was reacting instead of responding.
And I could offer the same understanding to myself that I tried to offer to them.

That’s where real change begins.
Not in perfection, but in awareness.

To the Moms Figuring It Out As They Go

If you’ve ever felt like you were parenting from a place that didn’t quite feel like you…
If you’ve noticed old patterns slipping in, even when your heart is set on doing things differently…
If you’re tired of holding it all together and ready to heal what’s underneath it all—

I see you.
You’re not failing.
You’re learning.
You’re growing.
And that’s the work that truly breaks cycles.

This Mother’s Day, I hope you take a moment to celebrate not just the mom you are, but the woman you’re becoming. The one who shows up, even on the hard days. The one doing the brave, often invisible work of healing her story—so her kids can write a new one.

You don’t have to do it alone.

Ready for support on your journey?

• I offer 1:1 coaching for moms and cycle-breakers who are ready to reconnect with their true selves and parent from a place of clarity, not survival.
• Or explore the Inner Child Healing Meditation on my website—a gentle audio journey to help you reconnect with the younger you who still deserves love and compassion. Ask her what she still needs to hear from you.

As a thank-you for being here—because I know how precious your time is—use code BLOG to save 22% off the meditation. Consider it your permission slip to pour back into you.

You’re not just “winging it.”
You’re waking up.
You’re rewriting the story.
And that, mama, is worth celebrating.

Because every time you choose presence over perfection… softness over survival… and healing over hiding—
you’re not just changing your life. You’re changing the legacy.

Happy Mother’s Day. You are exactly the mom your child needs.

With so much love, 

Amie