When Optimism Runs in the Family: Lessons I Learned from My U.S. Army Mom
Back in the day, I never would have thought I'd be sitting across from my mom—microphones and all—talking about life, parenting, and surviving chaotic chapters. But here I am, turning our heartfelt (and at times hilarious) conversation into a blog post. So, buckle up. If you've ever wanted to witness the behind-the-scenes of a boisterous family that somehow turned out halfway normal, you're in the right place.
Before Motherhood: The Party Animal With a Heart
My mom, Barbara Thomas, served in the U.S. Army and raised three boys—four, if we're counting my dad (just kidding… mostly). In her early twenties, "planning for a child" wasn't exactly at the top of her to-do list. She joked about being a "partier" who hadn't given "adulting" or "parental wisdom" much thought. Still, when it came to raising a child, she realized one thing right away: she wanted her kids to know the value of standing up for the underdog.
"Sticking up for the underdog" became a North Star in her parenting. Even when she didn't have an exact plan for bedtime routines or how to teach math facts, she did have a crystal-clear idea of kindness. Growing up, I got used to her subtle pep talks: "Be nice to the Wallflower" or "Hold the door for strangers." She once told me, "Sometimes, all it takes is one person to make someone else feel worthy." Trust me, that line has saved me more times than top ramen in college.
Middle Child Mayhem and Surviving on the Fly
When my older brother was joined by brother number two, the dynamic got interesting. Mom was juggling a military career, multiple kids, and a few attempts at advanced wizardry (read: getting my brothers to behave). She happily admits she spent a good chunk of that period in "sheer survival mode." If you've ever tried to rally a tiny army of kids into finishing their homework without bribery or tears, you probably know exactly how she felt.
Rather than perfecting recipes for organic baby kale purées (the highlight reel we see on social media these days), my mom was more concerned about getting us to think critically about our choices. She wanted us to learn how to reason, to ask questions, and to be responsible human beings. Yes, that also included letting us climb precarious trees—and sometimes fall—so we'd figure out that gravity is not just a rumor.
Raising a Third Child With a Different Skin Tone
Fast forward five years, and there I was: kid number three. According to Mom, she'd always known life would treat me a bit differently because of my darker skin tone. My two older brothers are white-passing, so bringing me into the mix added a whole new layer of maternal concern. She tried to raise us the same way—because love is love, values are values—but she was also prepared to defend me fiercely if (and when) the world decided to be unfair.
No joke—one day, a lady literally chased me down a street spouting hateful words. Mom discovered what happened and immediately morphed into a cross between Wonder Woman and a furious mama bear. (Spoiler alert: you didn't want to be that lady.) Even so, Mom never wanted fear or worry to define our upbringing. She wanted me—and my brothers—to understand that adversity exists, but we can still greet the world with kindness and strength.
On Depression, Pushing Potential, and Fighting
My mom's also never shied away from the darker parts of life—like depression. She keeps it real, reminding me that depression isn't always about crying into a pillow 24/7. Sometimes, it shows up as a soul-sucking lack of motivation. She's lived with those waves and comes out the other side because she believes that, just around the corner, things can—no, will—get better.
I guess that's why I've inherited the "gentle push" method. As an adult son, I sometimes come in hot, pushing my parents (and anyone else around me) to see more of their own potential. My mom laughs about it. "Can you just let me be a couch potato for a bit?" she'll say. But truth is, we both know that striving to be better is a gift, even if it's a tad annoying at times. The important thing is that, deep down, we share the same unwavering optimism—and the same sense that it's okay to occasionally devour an entire pizza while ignoring the treadmill.
Why It's Never Too Late
I asked my mom if she thinks there's a cut-off date for passing on those "big truths" to your children. She said something that really stuck: "Why would it ever be too late?" And there it is. Whether your kid is three, thirteen, or thirty, you can still show them what kindness looks like, what optimism feels like, or how to think for themselves. You haven't missed the window just because your kid can now order off the adult menu.
With me well into adulthood, our relationship has changed. We talk to each other with a mutual respect that comes from finally realizing parents are people, too—people with mistakes, regrets, random quirks, and everything in between. Knowing that fosters a new sense of empathy on both sides.
Optimism Over Happiness, Every Time
One massive takeaway I got from our conversation is the difference between chasing happiness and choosing optimism. Happiness is fleeting—like that moment the fast-food fries are perfectly crispy. Optimism, though, is about holding onto the belief that tomorrow can bring a new sunrise (and maybe more fries). My mom's approach has been to embrace gratitude, even on the darkest days. Sure, you can cry over the meltdown you just had in the grocery store or the beloved family dog that passed away, but you can also remember that tomorrow's a fresh start, that your community is here to rally, and that life will keep evolving no matter what.
She taught me to practice small acts of courtesy, to realize that the shy person in the corner of the dance might need a confidence boost, and that depression doesn't make you broken—it makes you human. Most importantly, she drilled into me that kindness only matters if it's real. You've got to live it—and no number of fancy quotes or memes will substitute for genuine action. That's how optimism grows, and that's how we pass it on.
Final Thoughts
If there's one thing my mom's story drives home, it's that perfection is wildly overrated. You can be a parent who's merely "surviving" some days, and you can serve your country in the Army while juggling chaos at home, and still manage to raise kids who do the right thing (at least 87% of the time). All that's required is a little grit, a ton of gratitude, and a deep knowing that things can always get better.
So here I'll leave you with the simplest blueprint Mom gave me: Stay kind, stand up for others, keep your hope tank full, and never miss a chance to let the Wallflower have a moment in the spotlight. Because, at the end of the day, the more bright spots you create in other people's lives, the more you'll see them in your own.