Walking through the grocery store, I heard it, the dreaded phrase: “OK, boomer.” The woman behind me was talking loudly on her phone, relaying some sort of lousy experience. My stomach tensed as I passed by her with my shopping cart.
It was hard to hear her intense aggravation because, technically, my parents are boomers. However, they’ve never lived up to the stereotype. While my friends’ parents were avoiding emotions or burying them deep down, my parents were supporting me in feeling all of mine.
My parents weren’t like my friends’ parents
When I was growing up, I assumed all families functioned the same way — you know, where the parents ask their kids how they feel and then take the time to listen and empathize. As far back as first grade, I can remember sitting on our couch, talking to my mom while I watched the crease between her eyebrows deepen.
“But how are you feeling now?” she asked, reaching for my hand.
I was crying so hard I gave myself the hiccups. The friend drama at school was real, and my mom listened to every word, riding out my emotions with me — never rushing me through so she could continue her evening, or telling me to get over it. She whispered she understood, and asked questions — more for me to grasp the situation than for her. Instances like these built an emotional confidence where I felt safe being myself and not shamed for it.
Most of my friends preferred to spend time at my house
This unconditional support wasn’t only reserved for me, but for my friends, too. “Why don’t we meet at your house?” my high school BFF always asked. In fact, most of my friends preferred hanging out at my house.
My besties confided in me that it was “easier for them to be themselves” with my parents, but I didn’t understand why until I spent time with their families. There was an underlying tension I couldn’t quite place, and twinges of guilt would sink into my stomach when I watched my friends hide parts of themselves from their parents. My home was decidedly different.
My friend group would sit casually at our kitchen table discussing school, relationships, or their opinions on a favorite movie. My mom and dad were there for it all. There were no dismissive tones, nor did my parents ever bring out the boomer classic: “Stop being so sensitive.” Perhaps it was their focus on connection rather than control, but we felt comfortable embracing all aspects of ourselves.
These memories, and the cozy feelings they bring up, play as I pass the woman on her phone. It’s not the first time I’ve heard people refer to my parents’ generation negatively, and, sure, everyone’s experience is different. Even my social media feed is full of the sentiment that boomers lack compassion and can often make for judgmental grandparents. Now that I’m a parent, I can’t help but be super grateful I was supported in a way that supported me.
I’m now parenting after the example set for me
“But how are you feeling now?” My words echo my mom’s as my 12-year-old son and I talk.
I sit with him while he tells me about a teacher who’s stressing him out, and I wait for him to finish his thoughts and feel all his feels. My parents’ emotional vulnerability directly informs my parenting — and I’m OK with it.
The good news is their support didn’t end once I grew up or when they became grandparents. They’re just as encouraging with my son as they were (and are) with me. My parents were gentle parenting before it even had a name, and I love passing this on to my son.
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