Raising My Daughter In The 'I Can Buy Myself Flowers' Era

Welcome to Real Parenting, a space where parents can share the joys, pain, and the mess of parenthood. Want to get something off your chest? Share your parenting journey? Email us at smartparentingsubmissions@gmail with the subject "Real Parenting." Click here to read more 'Real Parenting' stories.

My daughter can’t buy herself flowers—yet.

But we’re making sure she knows she can do so when she starts earning (thanks, Miley!) and that she never has to be swept off her feet by any boy on Valentine’s Day—or feel bad when she isn’t—because she’s always going to have all the love and attention she needs from Mommy, Daddy, and all her future best friends, just like Mommy’s.

On Valentine’s Day

For the second year in a row, my husband and I got our daughter Valentine’s Day treats. Last year, my husband got her a puppy stuffed toy covered in hearts, a heart-shaped balloon and sugar cookie, and some chocolates. This year, we got her pink and purple flowers with a heart-shaped pink balloon and candy hearts-covered cupcakes—all her requests. She joined our V-Day date.

I remember how in college, my single girl friends and I decided we’d buy each other flowers and be each other’s dates on Valentine’s Day—a tradition that persisted after we graduated and joined the workforce. We’d get together for dinner and drinks—sometimes with each other’s officemates—right on Valentine’s Day. I never really felt bad as a single woman on Valentine’s Day (except, perhaps, post-breakups); my friends and I always made it fun!

'My husband in particular is on a mission to desensitize her to grand gestures...“When a boy tries to impress her with these things one day, she won’t be—she already got all of those from Daddy,” he'd often declare.'

My husband and I are one in raising our daughter not to crave or need the attention and affection of other people. Rather, to feel good about herself—every day, not just Valentine’s Day. My husband in particular is on a mission to desensitize her to grand gestures, such as large bouquets and balloons, nice gifts, fancy dinners, jewelry, and travels. “When a boy tries to impress her with these things one day, she won’t be—she already got all of those from Daddy,” he’d often declare.

Even my male friends comment the same, that my daughter’s future suitors don’t stand a chance because she’s so used to being taken on dates with Mommy and Daddy. “Toddler pa lang, mahilig na sa steak at fine dining? Good luck sa mga manliligaw sa kanya!” My husband and I would just cackle in response. (This early, I’m already apologizing to my daughter if this story costs her future suitors.)

“I Can Buy Myself Flowers”

When Miley Cyrus started making the news for her song “Flowers” last year, I gave it a listen and instantly loved it: the beat, the lyrics, and how it made me feel so empowered. The song was on repeat on my Spotify. My daughter took a liking to its beat and she’d even ask me to play it over and over so we can dance to it and sing along to the chorus. She calls it “Mommy’s song.”

And she’s right. It was my song. It reminded me of myself as a career woman, earning enough to get myself anything I wanted—flowers, fancy dinners, clothes, bags, and trips. I loved feeling financially independent.

Things somewhat changed when I got married, moved to the province where my husband’s businesses are, and had to give up my home and career in Manila to become a homemaker in a remote farm and raise a child—without any help or a yaya for that matter. My daughter is a pandemic baby, and the lockdowns stripped me of the so-called village that it takes to raise a child. It was just me and my husband, isolated in a farm.

Motherhood and the pandemic taught me a different kind of independence. I wasn’t much of a cook or a homemaker, but I was forced to learn to cook healthy meals that our family of three can eat. I had to do all the chores at home, with my husband’s help. I had to constantly clean up after my baby who eventually—too quickly, actually—became a toddler and now, a preschooler.

READ ALSO: Dear Daughter, I Hope You Grow Up To Be Resilient And Kind

No yaya

Thank goodness the pandemic ended and we can now go out and travel more often. We never felt the need to hire a yaya for our child. It was in fact a decision we made before we even had her. We wanted to raise her without a yaya. We didn’t want to depend on anyone to take care of our daughter for us.

It’s hard, but not hard enough for us to change our decision. Even now that I’m working again (thank God the pandemic taught companies remote work is possible), we manage with a lot of teamwork. Because we’ve been yaya-less since the beginning, we’re so used to it. The three of us go everywhere and do everything together: travel, dine out, attend my work events, get groceries, run errands.

Whenever I can, I involve her in chores. She washes her dishes with me. My parents bought her a dustpan and broom set when she was less than 2, so since then, she knows how to sweep the floor. She loves dusting furniture with the duster. She helps her dad vacuum and do laundry. She helps me sort the laundry.

RELATED: A Guide to Chores You Can Give Your Kids From Age 2 to 7 Years Old

I let her do kitchen work with me, too. Since she was 3, she knows how to measure and clean rice, and she watches for the rice cooker indicator to let me know it’s cooked so we can switch it off. She helps me cook pasta and makes her own mashed potatoes—I boil the potatoes, then she mashes them and mixes in milk and butter.

Little Miss Independent

She naturally became more independent. She dresses herself, complete with socks and shoes. She can feed herself. She can bathe herself—all with my supervision, of course. She has her own sense of style: She picks her own outfits, shoes, clips, and accessories—both at the store and from her closet.

Whenever we travel, she helps me pack her own luggage—which she proudly rolls around herself. People at airports always look at her amusedly, and I’d hear comments from fellow parents traveling with kids, “Look at that girl, she rolls her own luggage; if I bought [my child] one, I’d likely carry it myself.”

Recently, she’s taken to singing “Flowers”—in the same tone, but with a different set of lyrics, about things she likes and the things she’s aspiring for.

She has her own dreams now. She wants to be a scientist. Also, after two trips there, her dream is to live in Hong Kong when she grows up. “I want to buy a house in Hong Kong, then Mommy and Daddy can stay with me,” she told me one day when I asked what her dream is.

Whenever she talks about her dreams (and they’re pretty consistent), I’d tell her, “To do that, you need to study hard. Then you can get a good job or business and earn money. Then you can buy whatever you want, including a house in Hong Kong that can fit you, Mommy, and Daddy.”

And whenever I get the chance, I always tell her, “When you’re older, work hard and earn your own money, so you never have to depend on anyone for anything, and you can get yourself whatever you want in life.”

Her own dad would echo the sentiment and say, “You can choose your own career, whether you want employment or you want to have your own business. But you need to earn your own money.” He also always tells her, “You can buy your own flowers—or set up your own flower shop.”

If there’s one thing we never tell her, though, it’s that she has to take care of us when we’re older. My husband and I are working extra hard to make sure she’s set in life while we’re also set in our retirement.

Still, it’s nice when she tells us, “Mommy and Daddy, when I’m older, I’ll work hard so I can take care of you.” We don’t know where she gets it (because it’s definitely not from us asking this of her), but I’d like to assume it’s because she feels taken care of well that she’d like to do the same for us. I couldn’t be any prouder.

Trixie Reyna is the editor-in-chief of Kubo.com.ph, a girl mom, and a wife.