Sage advice: The little things that girls remember

We give advice but what do our daughters hear?

How much do daughters absorb of their mothers’ counsel?

We give advice but do they hear? The only moment our group of leading women sounded hesitant was when asked how much their daughters have absorbed of their counsel. Had their girls taken onboard their messages or their modelling or their occasional parental slip? Let’s test it.

I remember giving my daughters lots of advice. From memory, much of it was about being brave enough to do the right thing. Treat everyone the same ­— don’t suck up, don’t kick down: work hard but work at what you love; stand up for yourself but try to do it eloquently and accept the consequences of your actions (I’m not doing your homework or writing a note about dogs and homework).

That’s what I remember.

This is what they remember.

Kate, 33 years. “I remember you teaching us to take risks creatively, and pursue whatever career path we wanted. At no point was I ever focused on whether I would make any money (and for a long time I didn’t).

‘You also taught us independence, to seek adventure and embrace challenges’

“I don’t remember being taught how to cook!

“You made us go to a lot of public speaking and elocution classes (which I hated) only to learn during uni and on the job that the value of being able to communicate in a compelling and articulate manner can really open doors.

“You also taught us independence, to seek adventure and embrace challenges. Whether it was learning to scuba dive at age 12, skydiving aged 15, or travelling solo to Portugal aged 16, you always encouraged us to test our limits (and yours).

“In terms of finances, the value of a dollar is seared into my brain (and the fridge whiteboard).”

Okay, that last bit refers to my efforts to teach Kate financial accountability by writing her moneys owed to Mum on the fridge whiteboard. Some amounts on the whiteboard still haven’t been wiped off.

Nikki, 34 years: “Hmmm ... you can be anything you want, but it helps if you are good at it. It’s not worth doing things you don’t enjoy, for example, piano, sewing classes, house choir. Go to uni. Even if you don’t need the degree for your profession, it will teach you more about yourself. If in doubt, shove that cake in your mouth.”

Okay, that last bit refers to the (rare) occasion I lost my temper and threw a chocolate cake off the deck, while Nikki was mid-mouthful.

So, they remember the tempers. Whiteboard accounting doesn’t work. I forgot I was so liberal but don’t regret the cooking and singing neglect. But, gee, they express themselves well. So I’ll take a tick there.