You know how they say, “Treat others how you want to be treated”? I hope I said it right.
Over the weekend, my almost 19 year old daughter came home to pick up a few things for school. The minute I saw her at the door, I gave her a long, warm hug and a few kisses.
If you know me, you know that I love a warm hug. Not the rushed, obligatory kind, but the kind that leaves you feeling wanted. The kind that makes you feel safe, loved and welcomed. The kind that reminds you of how the prodigal son was welcomed by his father.
Yes. That type of hug.
I looked at her face and asked how she was doing. She had just completed a week of training as a resident assistant, and it was showing. She was tired.
Then she told me she was having cramps.
That time of the month for both of us. And, as it happened, I was having terrible cramps too.
I walked her into the house, laid her down on the warm bed with its fleece bedding, tucked her in, got her some warm water and painkillers, and let her rest.
Later, I prepared pasta with cream and roasted chicken. She enjoyed it after her nap. She loves her chicken.
And as I watched her eat, I found myself thinking:
I deserve this too.
I deserve to be looked after. I deserve the warm bed, the cup of water, the food, the hug, the “Are you okay?” I deserve someone noticing that I am tired without me having to announce it.
I honestly cannot remember, for the life of me, being treated quite like that.
And that thought made me reflect on something.
Sometimes you give and give. You care, you notice, you anticipate, you make sure everyone else is okay. You remember the little things. You make the meals. You check in. You offer the hug. You create the warm bed.
And deep down, even if you never say it out loud, you want some of that care to come back to you.
Not because you are keeping score.
Not because love should be transactional.
But because it is human nature to want to be cared for too.
I have reached a point in my life where I do not want to spend the rest of it dwelling on what I wish people would do for me.
Instead, I want to be intentional about surrounding myself with people who understand consideration. People who notice. People who ask. People who give without always waiting to be asked.
Whether it is friendship, family or romantic relationships, consideration matters.
And perhaps this is one of the things we sometimes get wrong about motherhood.
We are taught to put others first. To sacrifice. To give. To nurture. To be there.
But consideration should not just be a mum thing.
Caring for people should not mean disappearing from your own list of people to care for.
I want my children to grow up knowing how to receive love, but also how to give it. I want them to understand that when someone you love is tired, you notice. When they are hurting, you ask. When they have had a difficult week, you make the tea, cook the chicken and, if necessary, tuck them into bed.
And yes, I want to model that for them.
But I also want to learn something for myself:
I can give generously without accepting emotional crumbs in return.
I can be a caring person and still expect consideration.
I can love people deeply and still recognise when a relationship is one sided.
And I can stop feeling guilty for wanting the same tenderness I so freely give to others.
So, here is my little life lesson from a weekend of cramps, fleece bedding, pasta and chicken:
Treat others how you want to be treated, yes.
But perhaps there is a second part we don’t say often enough:
Treat yourself well enough to recognise when you are not being treated well.
And if you are a mum reading this, please remember:
You are not just the person who brings the painkillers.
Sometimes you deserve someone to bring you the painkillers too.
And if they bring chicken with it?
Well…
Marry that person.
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