The Yelp Review of Parenting

Movement 01

Seeing Our Parents as People

Have you ever had one of those moments in life where you suddenly see your parents differently? Not as your parents. But as people.

It usually happens when you get older. Or when you have kids. Or when your kid turns the age your parents were when they had you. That one will mess you up.

Because my parents had me and my sister when they were 22 and 24. And when you’re a kid, 24 sounds ancient. Twenty-four might as well be 67. You think adults have it figured out. You think they came out of the womb with a mortgage, a retirement plan, and emotional regulation.

But then you become an adult. And then your kid turns 22. And you look at them and think: Holy cow ….“You’re an idiot.” Lovingly. But still.

And then you realize—Oh my God. That was my mom. That was my dad. They were babies raising babies. And when you think of it that way - That changes how I reflect on my parents… A lot.

Movement 02

The Sacred Chaos of Parenthood

Because motherhood—parenthood—is sacred. It starts before birth. And I don’t think we talk enough about how insane pregnancy actually is.

Think about it. For nine months, a human grows inside another human. Sharing blood. Oxygen. Nutrients. Space. Organs. Sleep. Bladder capacity. Dignity.

A mother spends nine months saying goodbye to comfort. And hello to somebody kicking her liver at 2 a.m. That’s commitment. That’s love. That’s biology mixed with chaos.

And after that? The baby arrives. And everybody celebrates. But nobody hands you the instruction manual. There’s no graduation ceremony. No official certification. Nobody says: “Congratulations, here’s your PhD in keeping tiny humans alive.”

No. They hand you the baby and basically say: “Good luck with that.” And you leave. Like… what?

We make people take classes to drive a Honda Civic. But for raising a child? Nothing. Just vibes. And hope. And maybe Google at 3 a.m.

Movement 03

Young Parents and Inherited Baggage

My parents stepped into parenthood young. Twenty-two and twenty-four. And when I think about that now… that feels impossibly young.

At 22, what do you really know? You know your family. Maybe college. A couple jobs. Maybe heartbreak. But you don’t know yourself yet.

And that matters. Because when you don’t know yourself—you don’t know your baggage. And baggage is sneaky. Baggage doesn’t show up wearing a name tag. It shows up looking like normal. That’s the dangerous part.

What your parents did to you… their parents probably did to them. And their parents before them. Patterns become traditions. Pain becomes parenting. Not because people are evil. Because people repeat what they know. Especially under stress.

Movement 04

The Stress of Raising Children

And parenting? Parenting is stress. Financial stress. Marriage stress. Career stress. No-sleep stress. And the unique stress of trying to keep alive a person whose main hobby is trying to die.

Toddlers are basically tiny drunk people. Running into walls. Eating batteries. Jumping off furniture. You spend the first five years just preventing disasters.

And while all that is happening—parents are still trying to build careers. Pay bills. Figure out marriage. Handle their own trauma. And somehow raise decent human beings. That’s insane.

And yet… as kids… we don’t see any of that.

Movement 05

The Illusion of Childhood

Because children think parents are experts. We have to. Our survival depends on it.

When you’re five, your dad opening a pickle jar feels like watching Thor. When you’re seven, your mom knowing where your shoes are feels supernatural.

Parents feel all-knowing. All-powerful. Emotionally stable. Which is hilarious. Because they’re just guessing. Most parenting is educated guessing. Sometimes uneducated guessing. Sometimes panic with snacks.

But as children, we absorb everything. Their beliefs become our beliefs. Their fears become our fears. Their anxieties become our anxieties. And their wounds… often become our wounds.

And then something interesting happens.

Movement 06

Becoming Our Parents’ Critics

We grow up. And we start evaluating our parents. And let’s be honest—a lot of us become Yelp reviewers.

One star. “House was loud. Communication poor. Emotional support inconsistent. Would not recommend.”

And listen—some of that criticism is fair. Parents make mistakes. Big ones. Sometimes painful ones. Sometimes wounds that last decades. That’s real.

But here’s what I’ve been thinking: What if our expectations of our parents were too high? Not our standards. Our expectations. Because maybe we expected perfection from people who were still becoming themselves.

Movement 07

Two Families, One New Household

I think about my parents. Young. New careers. No money. Different family cultures.

My mom came from a large Greek-German family. Six kids. Traditional home. Protected. Structured. My dad came from a small Polish-Lithuanian family. Different rhythms. Different expectations. Different emotional languages.

And then marriage throws those worlds together. That’s not just marriage. That’s a merger. With no HR department. No conflict training. No manual. Just two people trying to figure it out.

Then add kids. Now it’s chaos. Beautiful chaos. But chaos.

So when life got hard—they didn’t have time to sit around and say: “Hey, let’s unpack our childhood trauma before dinner.” No. Dinner had to be made. Bills had to be paid. Kids had to be bathed.

Life doesn’t pause so you can heal. And often—healing comes later. Much later.

Movement 08

Parents Can Change

And that’s important. Because one of the biggest mistakes adult children make… is assuming their parents stopped growing.

We freeze our parents in time. We remember them at 30. At 35. At their most overwhelmed. And we act like that’s who they are forever.

But parents evolve. They mature. They regret. They learn. They soften. Sometimes they heal. And sometimes we never give them credit for that. Because our pain keeps their image frozen. That’s human. But incomplete.

And listen—my parents weren’t perfect. No family is. Things got crazy. Things got loud. Mistakes were made. Baggage was absolutely handed down. Like family heirlooms nobody asked for.

“Here you go, son. Anxiety. It’s been in the family for generations.” But overall? They did a pretty good job.

Movement 09

The Yelp Review

So after reflection, if I had to leave a Yelp review for my parents today—It might look like this?

Did they feed me? Five stars.

Did they put a roof over my head? Five stars.

Did they keep me alive? By the way - Huge category and Underrated Category here. But again, Five Stars

Did they give me emotional baggage? Five stars. – They excelled at this one I mean handed down Premium Heavy-duty. Built to last Baggage.

But here’s the thing—Over the years I learned that some baggage helps. Some baggage gets you out of bed. Makes you work harder. Makes you build better. Makes you become more aware.

Sometimes the very thing you’re healing from… is the thing that shaped your strength. That doesn’t excuse the pain. But it reframes it.

And maybe that’s maturity. Not pretending your childhood was perfect. Not pretending your parents got everything right. But seeing context. Seeing humanity. Seeing effort. And recognizing this:

Movement 10

Finding Meaning in the Baggage

Your parents were winging it. Just like you are. Just like I am. Just like all of us are.

Nobody has life mastered. We’re all improvising. Trying. Failing. Trying again. And maybe that realization creates compassion.

Because compassion changes memory. Not the facts. But the interpretation.

Movement 11

Understanding and Forgiveness

So maybe—before you write the final review of your parents—pause and ask: How old were they? What were they carrying? What did they sacrifice? What did they survive? What did they never heal from?

And despite all that—did they stay? Did they try? Did they provide? Did they love the best way they knew how?

Because if the answer is yes—maybe the review needs updating. Maybe less criticism. More context. Maybe less anger. More understanding.

And maybe—if you’re lucky—that understanding turns into forgiveness. And forgiveness doesn’t say: “It didn’t hurt.” It says: “I understand now.”

And sometimes… understanding is where healing begins.

Movement 12

A Little Grace

And if you’re a parent listening to this—good luck. Seriously. You’re doing one of the hardest jobs on earth. And one day your kids will probably talk about you in therapy. Try to make it interesting. That’s all I’m saying.

And if you’re someone carrying pain from your parents—I hope you can look back with wider eyes. Not to excuse. But to understand.

Because your parents were not gods. They were human. Young. Scared. Unfinished. Trying to build a life while building you.

And maybe—just maybe—that deserves a little grace. Even if the baggage came free. That’s family. That’s life. And somehow—that’s love.