I Love You, Mummy… But I Also Like You

“Mummy, I like you a lot.” My daughter said those words to me the other day, completely out of the blue. There was no special occasion, no emotional conversation leading up to it, and nothing in particular that had prompted her declaration. It was just one of those ordinary moments between a mother and her child.

Naturally, I was curious. I smiled and asked her why she had suddenly decided to tell me that. Her response caught me by surprise.

“Because liking you isn’t an obligation. I love you because you’re my mummy, but I don’t have to like you. Even if you weren’t my mum, I would still like you. I just really like you a lot.” I cannot remember exactly what I said afterwards, but I remember how her words made me feel.

There was something so innocent, yet incredibly thoughtful, about the distinction she had made. She wasn’t simply expressing love or gratitude. She was telling me that beyond everything our relationship represents, she genuinely enjoyed the person I am.

And somehow, that meant more to me than I could explain in that moment.

Love, Liking and the Unwritten Rules of Parenting

As parents, we often take comfort in knowing that our children love us. It is a bond nurtured through years of caring, protecting, comforting and showing up, even on the days when we are running on empty.

But I had never really considered how differently our children might experience loving us and liking us. After all, parenting is not a popularity contest. If I measured my success as a mother by how pleased my children were with every decision I made, I would probably have resigned from the position a long time ago!

There have certainly been occasions when I have been the least popular person in our household. Times when I have said no, insisted on difficult conversations or maintained boundaries, my children would much rather I relaxed. I have heard the sighs, seen the expressions and witnessed the apparent devastation caused by what I considered perfectly reasonable parenting decisions.

And I am quite sure there will be many more of those moments.

But that is part of the responsibility we take on as parents. Sometimes loving our children means disappointing them. It means making decisions they may not understand until much later, and accepting that we will not always be their favourite people.

My daughter’s words reminded me that these difficult moments do not have to define the relationship.

Our Children Are Getting to Know Us Too

We spend so much of our parenting journey getting to know our children. We learn their personalities, their fears, their interests, their strengths and the little things that make them who they are.

We watch them grow from babies who depend on us for everything into young people with opinions, preferences and identities of their own. But while we are busy discovering who they are becoming, something else is happening that we don’t always recognise.

They are discovering who we are too. They notice how we respond when things go wrong, how we speak to people, how we handle disappointment and whether we can laugh at ourselves.

They see the version of us that is tired after a long day, the version that gets excited about something seemingly insignificant, and the version that occasionally gets things completely wrong.

They also notice whether we listen when they speak, whether we apologise when we have hurt them, and whether they can be themselves around us.

Of course, they don’t see everything. There are parts of our lives, our struggles and our stories that they may not fully understand until they are much older. But through the everyday experience of living alongside us, they form their own understanding of who we are.

I find that both beautiful and humbling. Because as much as I would like my daughters to remember all the wonderful things I have done for them, I know they are also collecting memories of my less impressive moments.

And there have been a few!

I have had occasions when I have questioned whether I handled a situation well, whether I was too firm, whether I listened enough or allowed my own frustrations to influence my response.

Like many parents, I am constantly learning. The mother I aspire to be and the mother I manage to be on any given day are not always the same. Yet, perhaps that is part of what makes our relationships real. Our children get to know us not as perfect people, but as human beings who are learning and growing alongside them.

Making Room for Joy in the Everyday

I think sometimes we become so consumed by the responsibilities of parenting that we forget to enjoy the relationship itself. There are meals to prepare, school matters to sort out, lessons to teach, behaviours to correct and endless conversations about things that need doing.

Before we know it, so much of our interaction with our children revolves around instructions, reminders and responsibilities. And while those things are necessary, I wonder whether we always make enough room for the lighter moments.

The silly conversations that begin with absolutely no purpose. The unexpected laughter over something that isn’t even particularly funny. The stories that start with, “Mummy, you won’t believe what happened today!”

I love those moments with my daughters. The times when we can simply talk, laugh, exchange opinions or enjoy each other’s company without there being anything to accomplish. Sometimes our conversations are serious and thoughtful. Other times, they are wonderfully ridiculous.

And I treasure both.

I don’t need my children to see me as their best friend. I am their mother, and that comes with responsibilities that friendship alone does not carry. But I want our relationship to have room for joy, humour, curiosity and genuine connection.

I want us to have memories that are not simply about what I taught them or what I did for them, but about the experiences we shared. Because childhood is made up of so much more than the big milestones we photograph and celebrate. It is also shaped by the ordinary interactions that quietly become the foundation of our relationships.

Beyond the Years of Being Needed

As my daughters grow older, I find myself thinking more about how our relationship will change in the years ahead. There was a time when they needed me for almost everything. I organised their days, answered endless questions and seemed to have a solution for most of their problems.

Now, that dependence is gradually changing, and rightly so. They are becoming more independent, forming their own views and learning to navigate a world in which I will not always be physically present to guide them.

There is so much joy in watching that happen, but also a quiet sadness in recognising that the relationship we have known for years is changing.

One day, they will have their own homes, routines, responsibilities and perhaps families of their own. They will no longer need to involve me in every decision or tell me everything that happens in their lives.

And I hope I will have the wisdom to embrace that stage without confusing their independence with distance. I hope they will still call to tell me about their day, share their thoughts because they value our conversations, and occasionally pop round simply because they feel like spending time together.

Not out of duty, guilt or expectation, but because the connection we have nurtured continues to matter to them.

Of course, I know that relationships evolve and adulthood brings its own complexities. There will be seasons when life is busy, when our perspectives differ or when closeness looks different from what it once did.

But I hope that whatever changes, we will always find ways to remain present in each other’s lives. And perhaps that is why my daughter’s unexpected declaration touched me so deeply.

It offered a little glimpse of the relationship we might continue to share long after the years of being needed in quite the same way have passed.

The Words I Didn’t Know I Needed to Hear

There are so many things we hope to hear from our children as they grow. We want to know that they feel loved, that they are happy, that they are proud of themselves and that the values we have tried to teach them are becoming part of who they are.

But sometimes, the words that stay with us are the ones we never thought to hope for.

“Mummy, I like you a lot.” Such a simple sentence, spoken on an ordinary day, yet it has given me something to reflect on long after the conversation ended. It has made me think about the kind of person I want my daughters to know as they grow older.

Not someone who always has the right answers, never makes mistakes or manages every situation perfectly. But someone kind, approachable, willing to learn, able to laugh and comfortable enough to admit when she gets things wrong.

Someone they can respect without being afraid of, disagree with without feeling rejected, and turn to without worrying that they must always say the right thing. I know that I will continue to make parenting mistakes. There will be more difficult conversations, more disagreements and probably a few more dramatic sighs along the way.

But I also hope there will be countless moments of laughter, shared stories, meaningful conversations and the simple pleasure of being together. I have always treasured being my daughters’ mother. It is one of the greatest privileges of my life.

But on that ordinary day, my daughter gave me a compliment I hadn’t realised would mean quite so much. She told me that even if life had introduced us under different circumstances, she believed I would still be someone she wanted to know.

And I think I will carry those words with me for a very long time. Because motherhood brought us into each other’s lives, but the relationship we build along the way is what I hope will keep us close.

Until next time,

With love,

Pam.