The Power of Accountability

Camille Mc Millan Rambharat, Author | Advocate | Advisor

There are many joys that come with being a parent to adult children, and the week before Mother’s Day reminded me just how deeply rewarding those moments can be.

Our eldest son and I call each other at the end of the workday and chat during the drive home at least twice or three times per week. That almost hour-long call has become our sacred space to decompress, share stories, and reflect. All three of our children communicate differently. The two younger ones? They’re more the random-text-here-and-there type, usually leaving my messages on read, and definitely preferring in-person conversations.

On one recent call, our eldest was excitedly telling me about his new job—closer to home, less traffic, and more time with his wife. Then suddenly, he burst out laughing. Of course, I joined in, caught up in his infectious joy. “Mom,” he said through the laughter, “I never thought I’d say this, but I was wrong—and sibling number two was right!”

He went on to describe a recent heated disagreement with his younger brother. He was so convinced of his opinion that he hung up first—just to have the final say. Our family is passionate; we’ve raised our children to speak their truth and engage openly with the world. But when it comes to politics? That’s when things really heat up. My husband and I have often had to step in like referees. And our daughter? Baby girl is the fiercest of them all—never one to back down from a debate with her big brothers.

But something had shifted for our eldest. He had taken time to reflect and realised his brother’s point of view wasn’t just valid—it was eye-opening. “I’ve been wearing rose-coloured glasses on this topic,” he admitted. “I couldn’t see past my own perspective. I just didn’t think people could be like that.” He’d tried to call his brother to apologise—but now he was being ignored. We couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Payback, sibling-style.

In that moment, I told him how proud I was—not just for admitting he was wrong, but for having the humility and maturity to say, “I’m sorry. You were right.” That kind of accountability reflects real growth and deep respect—not just for his brother, but for himself. This experience reminded me of something profound: just because someone’s experience is different from our own doesn’t make it wrong. True listening—deep, empathetic listening—requires us to set aside our need to be right or have the last word. It takes humility, courage, and love.

Our call ended the way it always does: with a warm, “Bye, son/Mom—I love you.” But this time, those words lingered in my heart a little longer. As a mother, I’ve celebrated many milestones. But witnessing your children choose growth, accountability, and love over ego? That—that—is one of the greatest gifts of all.