I’m embarrassed to admit that my daughter is not nearly as self-sufficient as I thought she would be at this age. This isn’t on her, of course. It’s on me.
I blame Mexican parenting culture.
Because in Mexico, kids are everything. Even most strangers seem to genuinely like them and dote on them. People tend to let them get away with things that make me narrow my eyes in frustration. “Um, are you sure you want to let them do that?”
They’re sure.
Screaming at the top of their lungs in the restaurant play area? No problem. Demanding a tailor-made menu at home? But, of course, mi vida! Asking some random person at a party to get them a drink? Oh my goodness, it would be an honor!
Los más consentidos
I’ve written about parenting in Mexico before, and how children are treated like babies for quite a long time. It truly wasn’t my intention to do this myself. It just sort of… happened.
Part of it was COVID-19, I suppose, a rough few years for all of us. Part of it was the divorce and my desire to make up for all the difficulty and pain it had caused in my daughter’s life. Perhaps part of it was even a bit of competitive drive to make sure I wasn’t too far behind in the favorite parent game, knowing I was being painted as the less sympathetic of the two.
And now here I am, years later, scrambling to get my kid’s breakfast and lunch ready while she slowly and sleepily gets dressed. About half the time, I burn her grilled cheese sandwich because I think I can brush and braid her long hair while one side toasts, then forget about it. She’d prefer a half-burned sandwich to having to make it herself, though. On the way to school, we only listen to her playlist.
Most kids in Mexico are what we would consider to be pretty spoiled. But even that language sounds wrong here. Whereas “spoiled” is a synonym of “ruined” in English, “consentido” is more similar to the words “indulged” and maybe even “loved.” If someone is consentido, it means, basically, that they’re treated extra, extra special.
And, well, I live in Mexico and am raising a Mexican. I suppose it’s natural at this point that I’d be raising her in at least a somewhat similar way to her peers. And since we don’t have any of my own extended family close-by, I can’t help but feel that she’s missing out anyway.
Key ingredient: The village
Because the thing that makes Mexico special when it comes to children is community. Much of that community is found in extended family, but in the absence of one, we’ve got to DIY it. It’s not always the easiest, but it’s possible.
How do I do this? Really, I just show up to things with my kid. Unlike in many other countries, kids are naturally included in public life. You’ll see them at late-night parties, and you’ll see them at the bank. They’re basically taken along for the ride everywhere, and I would be hard-pressed to identify any “children-free” zones around here besides nightclubs.
I also reach out to and make friends with other families at my kid’s school. She might not have siblings, but she’s got plenty of other kids to play with, which I make sure of. And when things get busy, as they always do with working moms, we help each other out.
Because kids, like the rest of us, thrive in community. And you can’t get much more consentido than that.
Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website, sdevrieswritingandtranslating.com and her Patreon page.
