Helping, holding back, and the stories we carry


It looks like a simple question: “Can you help me?”

Usually accompanied by those big eyes that are hard to resist.

The moment your child asks you, your instinct kicks in (or maybe you feel it as tension): do you step in, or hold back? And what about your partner—would they handle it the same way, or differently?

Underneath it all is a deeper question: What does it mean to care?

Every parenting moment carries culture. Even the tiny ones. Sometimes it feels like you and your partner are clashing over tactics, but usually the conflict is rooted in what those moments mean to each of you.

This month, we’re looking at a moment many of us get stuck in: when your child can do something on their own but won’t.

Let’s break it down.


Surface Moment (and this week, confession)

The tiny trigger for a bigger story.

My mom cut my meat until I was 10. And yes, I was perfectly capable of using a knife.

Invisible Script

The deeper stories fueling the tension.


Love means anticipating a need before it’s spoken.

VS.

Love means letting them figure it out.

When my kids ask for help with things they can do, like cutting food, brushing hair, or tying their shoes, I feel a pull to step in, the way my parents once did for me. Not because they can't do it, but because I hear a need between the lines for a moment of connection. For me, showing care means meeting it.

But other adults in their lives—teachers, neighbors, even my husband sometimes—see it differently. To them, stepping back is an act of trust. Letting them figure it out, even if takes longer or is a struggle, is their way of encouraging autonomy. For them, showing care means giving space.

Neither approach is wrong. We’re just working from different definitions of care.

Why This Feels So Big

Bringing the invisible to the surface.

When Mike doesn’t step in, I feel it in my chest.
When I do step in, he feels it in his.

This is the invisible script beneath our dynamic: How we show love is deeply personal. Whether that love is recognized feels even more so.

To me, helping feels warm and connected. To him, it can look like coddling.
To him, stepping back feels respectful and trust-based. To me, it can feel withholding.

This is the heart of it. We are two people, with two definitions of care, both rooted in love. The tension isn’t a sign that one of us is doing it wrong. It’s an opening to notice where each of our instincts come from, and what stories we’re carrying into the moment.


Try This

Making room for curiosity and connection.

Next time your child asks for help with something they can already do, try this before you respond:

  1. Notice your body. Do you feel the tug to jump in, or the urge to hold back?
  2. Name the instinct. “I want to help” or “I want them to try.”
  3. Trace it back. Ask yourself: Where does this instinct come from? Why does this moment feel tender or tense for me?

No right or wrong answers. Just a chance to get a little more clarity about the stories under the moment.

Until next time,

Melina


What I’m Reading, Listening, and Laughing to This Month

A few things I thought you might like that made me pause, laugh, or rethink something I thought I knew.


Fumbling Toward Repair by Mariame Kaba & Shira Hassan - technically a guide for community accountability, but its wisdom around repair, boundaries, and care feels just as relevant for family life. Especially in those moments when parenting brings up our hardest, least polished parts.

“Mothering, Not Smothering: Power‑With When Your Child Is Struggling” from The Come Back to Care Podcast - this episode explores how to show up with support without overstepping, teaching autonomy while staying deeply present. A beautiful companion to our theme of noticing invisible scripts around helping and holding back

Children's House of Horrors cartoon by Roz Chast - wrote about dressing kids for my book and was reminded of this gem. Click the link for a good laugh.


Did a friend send this your way?

You can sign up to receive these bi-monthly reflections in your inbox and join other parents learning from the stories beneath the surface.

Surface Tension

My twice-monthly newsletter helps parents in multicultural relationships explore how their own cultural upbringing shapes their parenting instincts, so that they can bring more curiosity and self-awareness into their relationship and the way they raise their child. Surface Tension weaves together personal story, cultural reflection, and expert guidance to help parents better understand themselves, and make space for the differences that give their family its depth and warmth.

Read more from Surface Tension
Child with brown hair seen from above and behind, with her lunch set in front of her at a table.

Before we begin... For those of you who have been on my email list for a while, thank you! When I first began writing, I was often doing it while holding a sleeping baby or toddler. These days, my children are older and I have found the space to devote to writing you more regularly (and at regular hours!) You'll now hear from me twice a month. The Nightlight, the newsletter I've been sending you sporadically for years, is now Surface Tension. I'll still be writing about culture and parenting,...