Today, we were experiencing some icky winter weather. When my daughter and I arrived home from school, I noticed there was a package on our front porch that had a healthy coating of snow on top. When I moaned about it, she said it was no problem, she would go get it for me and brush off the snow. I told her, “thanks, you’re the best!” So, in true 3-year-old fashion, she cheerfully parroted back, “no, you’re the best!”

Then she said something to me that I wasn’t prepared for.

“Mom, you’re my bestie! Because you’re my mom!”

If your first thought was, “aww!” – you’re not wrong, so was mine! It was very sweet. If your reaction stopped there…either congratulations are in order because you were raised by a psychologically healthy parent, or condolences are in order because you weren’t and don’t quite realize the dangers of such a statement. If you’re like me, after your cooing, you cringed at least a little bit on the inside. Don’t worry everyone; no matter which of those three possibilities you might align with, I will proceed to explain why at least just a slight cringe is the correct reaction. At least in my opinion, such as it is (but ya know, it is my blog after all, so my opinion gets top billing here). Settle in, get comfy.

I realize this may be a controversial opinion, but I stand so hard by it, you could call me the Statue of Liberty. It’s very common in society to hear a mom say their daughter is their best friend, or to hear a daughter say their mom is their best friend. And if the relationship is healthy and appropriate, kudos. But without proper boundaries in place, without an established understanding that what one tells one’s adult buddies should not ever be the same stuff one tells to one’s children (including to one’s adult children), irreparable damage can ensue.

A parent-child relationship is not the same as a friendship and should not be treated as such.

My mother said all the time that I was her best friend. In truth, I was everything to her – friend, confidante, therapist, co-parent for my brother, financial resource, and so on. All I ever fucking should have been was her daughter. Boundaries were completely nonexistent. I knew everything there was to know about her relationships with my father, my stepfather, her first husband, other men she was with…and I do mean everything. I am 34 years old, happily married, and still learning what it means to have a relationship with appropriate boundaries and connections. It’s a work in progress, which is okay, all things considered. Being raised with no understanding of boundaries whatsoever, that’s what’s not okay. And I’ll be damned if I become that kind of parent.

You may be wondering if I gave my kid a lecture about her referring to me as her “bestie” today. I did consider it. But I wasn’t prepared to explain this whole thing to her on the fly, and she wasn’t saying anything so loaded as all that I described above. She was just expressing her love for me and appreciation for our relationship, which is absolutely mutual. It’s not her fault that the words she chose were triggering for me, and I didn’t want her to feel unfairly corrected. That isn’t her burden to carry, it’s mine. This is a conversation I will have with her later on. One could never accuse me of not being a mindful parent, that’s for sure. Maybe sometimes I’m too mindful. But better that than the opposite, better that than the way I was raised.

Please, for the love, raise your children with care and patience – and a healthy dose of boundaries. Our children are not our besties. They’re our children, and that’s more than enough. That’s all they ever need to be.