The parent I thought I'd be

Welcome back to Techno Sapiens! I’m Jacqueline Nesi, a psychologist and professor at Brown University and mom of two young kids who are living their best donut- and pickle chip-filled lives this summer.

If you like Techno Sapiens, please consider sharing it with a friend today!

5 min read

My children are eating breakfast.

The flurry of escalating demands—milk, toaster waffles, peanut butter and jelly (no, wait, no jelly!), syrup (no, not on top! On the side!), more syrup, more milk (in the blue cup!)—has given way to loud munching and silent smearing of peanut butter across cheeks.

Congratulating myself on nearing the downhill portion of today’s first challenge, I open the cabinet to an alarming discovery.

We are out of coffee.

I remain calm in crisis, and inform my children that after breakfast, we’ll be heading to the local coffee shop.

While wiping peanut butter off my one year old’s earlobe, I lob a vague, noncommittal statement into the ether. Something about how we just ate breakfast, so we don’t need to get any treats at the coffee shop, and instead will just be getting Mom a coffee.1

Can I pretend to be Mittens the cat? My three year old replies.2

When we arrive at the coffee shop, I unbuckle their carseats. I rest the diaper bag on one hip, sling 25 pounds of one year old onto the other, and reach out a hand to escort the three year old across the parking lot.

I am out of breath when I get to the counter. I deposit the kids next to the glass display case while reaching for my wallet.

There are donuts.

Mom! Mom! Mom! Can I have a donut? Mom! Please? My older one asks.

Choc-lat! My younger one assents.

I look at the barista, who is waiting expectantly, an iced half-caf Americano3 already in the works behind her. I envision my kids’ protests and cries. I think about how tired I am, and how much harder it will be if I say no. I imagine the looks of absolute delight on their faces if I say yes.

Sure! I say. Let’s get two.

Real life? Ah, I hadn’t considered that.

Before having kids, I imagined I’d be a “strict” parent. Loving, of course, but also firm, consistent, authoritative.

The idea was likely born out of my training in ...