I think my mother is my biggest influence. There are so many

In the heartfelt and unguarded words of Nikki Reed, “I think my mother is my biggest influence. There are so many things I hate about her but at the same time I’m thankful for her. All I know is that when I’m a parent I want to be just like my mom. I can talk to my mom more than any of my friends could talk to their parents.” we hear the raw and timeless song of love between parent and child—a bond woven with both pain and gratitude, frustration and reverence. It is not the idealized love of myth or story, but the living, breathing truth of real family, where affection and conflict coexist, where lessons are sometimes hard-earned, and where understanding blooms slowly like dawn after storm.

At the heart of this quote lies one of life’s oldest paradoxes: the tension between rebellion and reverence. A child grows by questioning the very hands that raised them. They resist the rules, they scorn the imperfections, and yet, when they come to know life for themselves, they see in their parent’s flaws the reflection of their own humanity. Reed’s confession—that she both hates and thanks her mother—captures this sacred duality. It is the recognition that love is not blind adoration, but the ability to see someone fully—wrinkles, temper, mistakes, and all—and still say, “You shaped me, and for that, I am grateful.”

Nikki Reed, who rose to fame at a young age and faced the complexities of growing up under the public eye, has often spoken of her mother’s strength and influence. Her words are born not from simplicity, but from the long labor of understanding—a daughter who has lived through the fire of youth and emerged with empathy. The origin of this quote rests in that universal awakening when one looks back upon childhood and realizes that a parent’s love, though imperfect, was an anchor against chaos. Her mother, like so many before her, was both the source of conflict and the source of peace—the one who provoked her growth and steadied her heart.

This tension is not new. Even in the ancient world, the bond between parent and child was seen as both sacred and turbulent. Consider Alexander the Great and his mother Olympias—a woman of immense will and fiery passion. She was ambitious, controlling, and unrelenting, yet her intensity carved the steel within her son. Though they often clashed, her faith in his destiny burned so brightly that it became his own. Alexander, for all his conquests, never ceased to carry her voice within him—a voice both maddening and motivating. Just as Nikki Reed admits her mixed feelings toward her mother, so too did Alexander’s greatness spring from the complex love of a woman both feared and adored.

The wisdom of Reed’s words lies also in her recognition of connection—the ability to speak openly with her mother, to share thoughts that others keep hidden. This communication, rare and precious, is the foundation of lasting understanding. For a parent’s role is not to be flawless, but to be available; not to know all answers, but to listen with an open heart. A child who can speak freely to their parent inherits not only guidance, but also the strength to face the world honestly. Reed’s words remind us that trust is the truest form of love, for it allows both mother and child to grow together, side by side, rather than apart.

There is also a quiet humility in her statement—an acknowledgment that despite conflict, she wishes to become like her mother. This is the cycle of generations: what once seemed flawed becomes, with wisdom, the ideal to which one aspires. The things we once hated become the very tools we use to love our own children. In this way, every parent passes down not perfection, but resilience, and every child, in time, redeems that legacy through understanding. Thus, even what we resist in our parents becomes our inheritance, transformed by compassion.

Let this truth be handed down: to love your parents is not to worship them, but to see them as they are—fragile, flawed, magnificent, human—and to love them all the same. The journey from rebellion to gratitude is the journey of maturity. And when you find within yourself the desire to carry forward what once frustrated you, you have touched the essence of forgiveness.

Therefore, let every son and daughter remember this: the mother you argue with today is the wisdom you will carry tomorrow. Speak to her, even when words fail. Thank her, even when you do not yet understand. And when the day comes that you raise a child of your own, remember—as Nikki Reed did—that love is not about perfection, but presence. For the truest legacy a parent can leave is not a flawless example, but a voice in the heart that never stops guiding, even after the lessons are done.