Parenting is a constant exercise in calling yourself out.

Becoming a mother has taught me many things, but one truth hits harder than the rest: parenting is like holding up a mirror that shows you every contradiction and inconsistency in yourself.

Take this for example. Every time I catch my daughter reading while eating, I tell her, “Focus on your food. Don’t read at the table. It’s bad manners.” But the words barely leave my mouth before I catch a glimpse of my own phone screen, still open on the Facebook feed I was scrolling just a minute ago. And suddenly, it feels like I just slapped myself across the face. I was doing the exact same thing I told her not to do.

Moments like this happen far too often on the parenting journey.

I often remind my daughter, “Don’t get angry so easily. Talk things through.” Yet there I am, getting worked up just waiting at a red light, or losing my cool over the smallest hiccup in daily life. I tell her to be patient, to take responsibility, while I grumble about chores and get flustered over unexpected changes.

Every time I give her a lecture, it feels like an invisible boomerang comes flying back at my head, knocking some sense into me. It reminds me that the person who really needs to reflect is not my child. It’s me.

It is all too easy to slip into the role of the moral preacher once you become a parent. “Be patient.” “Manage your emotions.” “Take responsibility.” These phrases flow out effortlessly, as if I am some shining example of virtue. But deep down, I know most of the time, I am saying them as much for myself as for her.

And honestly, that has become the most powerful part of the process. These constant internal clashes have made me more aware of my own behavior. I have come to realize that everything I say to my daughter is also a reminder to myself. A kind of self-discipline wrapped in parenting advice.

Children are not just mirrors that reflect our flaws. They are a driving force that pushes us to grow. Because of her, I am forced to face the parts of myself I used to ignore. Bit by bit, I am learning to adjust, to improve.

Over time, I’ve noticed that the one who has changed the most through parenting is not my daughter. It is me. She still reads at the table. She still has her moods. But I am no longer as quick to lose my temper. I try to be more patient. I make a conscious effort to put my phone away and actually sit down for a proper meal.

Parenting is not just about teaching a child how to survive in the world. It is also a mirror that asks us whether we are truly living by the values we want to pass on. Every conflict, every moment of tension with our kids, is a chance to ask ourselves, “Am I practicing what I preach?”

Sometimes I think about Carl Jung’s theory of projection: the idea that we see in others the things we dislike most in ourselves. The little habits that irritate me most in my daughter are often the very ones I need to work on myself.

It takes courage to admit your own shortcomings, especially when you are trying to be a role model. But this honesty is what makes real change possible.

These days, whenever I feel a lecture coming on, I first ask myself, “Am I doing the same thing?”

If I want her to focus, I put my phone down. If I ask her to stay calm, I take a deep breath. If I tell her to be responsible, I check whether I have followed through on my own commitments.

And the most surprising thing? As I began to lead by example, I started seeing small changes in her too. Not because I explained things better, but because she noticed something different in me.

Parenting has taught me this: our children do not need perfect parents. They need adults who are willing to grow with them, who are brave enough to admit when they are wrong.

In the end, the one being shaped the most is not the child. It is me.

The one being forced to grow up is not her. It is me.

And maybe, that is the real gift parenting has given me.