Unfiltered Mommy Moments: Parenting Pre-Teens Without the Perfect Script
Some days, I feel like I’ve got this parenting thing on lock. Other days, I’m side-eyeing myself in the mirror Hunter-style thinking, Girl, what the hell was that? Raising two pre-teen daughters in today’s world is no small feat. It’s beautiful, hilarious, exhausting, and confusing, sometimes all in the same hour.
No one handed me a script for how to navigate attitude mixed with anxiety, sass wrapped in sweetness, or the constant tug-of-war between wanting independence and still needing hugs at bedtime. I’m parenting in real-time, without a manual, while the world around them (and us) changes faster than I can keep up with.
There are wins, like when Harlem tells me about some drama at school and actually wants my advice. Or when Hunter sets a boundary and I realize all those hard conversations about self-respect finally got through.
And then there are the lows, like when I snap and raise my voice out of pure frustration, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t. Or when I’m too tired to step into another sister squabble or entertain one more “Mommy, can we…” plea, so I tap out with a quick, “Go ask your dad,” like I’m tagging him into the ring. But for some reason, they never actually go. They just stand there, staring at me like I suddenly started speaking another language.
It’s not always graceful. There are tears, heavy sighs, quiet moments that feel like failures, and late-night mom spirals where I replay everything I could’ve said better. But there’s also growth for them and for me. Because the truth is, I’m learning right alongside them. I’m unlearning some things, too. Like the idea that good parenting means perfection, or that I have to get it right the first time.
What I’m leaning into instead is presence. Repair. Apologies. Laughter. Starting over. And giving myself the same grace I try to give them.
There’s no one way to raise kind, confident, grounded kids in this world. But love, honesty, and a sense of humor? That’s a pretty solid foundation.
I remember years ago when Hunter said, “Mommy, when people die they turn into stone.” I blinked and said, “Huh?” Then Harlem jumped in like it was obvious: “Yeah, Mommy. They turn into rip stones.” I laughed so hard before I could even begin to explain what RIP meant on a headstone. That moment was pure, funny, a little morbid, and completely unscripted. It was a reminder that we’re all just doing our best to make sense of things, kids and adults alike.
So if you’re parenting without a perfect script too - just showing up, messing up, and trying again - you’re not alone. Let’s keep figuring it out, one unfiltered moment at a time.
