The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!
Let me begin by stating a few obvious facts. First, there are many different styles of parenting. Second, different generations have different ideas about parenting. Third and finally, everyone has an opinion about what parenting style is best.
For example, when I was growing up, I was aware of a stigma against parents who thought their kids walked on water; parents who thought their child could do no wrong. It was thought that this parenting style produced inconsiderate children who did whatever they wanted because no one would ever tell them they were doing anything wrong.
There is a part of me that can understand why the stigma against this parenting style exists. Offering unconditional support to our children sounds like a great idea in theory, but I also believe that children need the boundaries that are created when they feel the consequences of doing something inappropriate or unacceptable. The natural curiosity of children drives them to seek limits, limits which are sometimes defined by the disapproval of a loved one.
However, the other end of the spectrum offers its own dangers. In trying to avoid being the type of parent who supports their children to a fault, it is possible to go too far in the opposite direction. In this case, parents may end up feeling like it is their job to be on guard for possible flaws in their children’s behavior. This can easily become a habit that is hard to shake, leading parents to constantly feel skeptical of their child’s behavior as well as responsible for it. In short, parents don’t trust their children. Which can send the message to children that they are not trustworthy. Not exactly fertile soil for healthy relationships on either end.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about trying to find the middle ground; the point where we support our children and foster the kind of self-confidence that leads them to trust themselves, but also help them to develop the inner voice that helps them to regulate themselves when needed.
The bad news? I don’t have “The Answer.”
But what I do know is this: Of all the lessons I’ve learned in this life, my greatest teachers have been my biggest fans, not my biggest critics.
It’s been the people who believe in me even when I make mistakes–the people who trust my choices even when they don’t understand them, because they believe in the person that I am–these are the people who make me want to grow, to learn, to be better. These are the people who taught me to believe I am worthy. Is there any greater gift we can give to one another?
So when I watch my daughter, when I think about the voice I use when I talk to her, the voice that will eventually become the voice in her head, I want to err on the side of kindness, the side of understanding, the side of trust. I want to believe in her so that she learns to believe in herself. I want to trust her so that she knows she is trustworthy.
There will be times when she lets me down. There will be times when she breaks that trust. There will be times when I have to be skeptical of her choices and her actions and her words. But I believe that even in the times where I must, as a parent, be critical of her choices, I can still believe in her. I can believe in her, in the goodness I see in her soul. I can trust that I raised her to be a good human, and that together we can learn and grow, in spite of (or even because of) the mistakes we make along the way. Even when I can’t support her choices, I can support the amazing little human she is.
I don’t believe my child walks on water or that she can do no wrong. But that will never stop me from being her biggest fan.
These robotics kids are going to shape our future. I think this every time I watch an elementary, middle school, or high school competition. My thoughts go back many years to when my middle child, who was six at the time, went with my husband to the high school robotics shop. They were only stopping in briefly to pick up some engineering kits, but my child quickly became captivated by what the “big kids” were doing. He stood quietly watching until one student walked over and asked if he would like to see what they were working on. My son,...
Sometimes foster care looks like bringing a child from a hard place into your home. Sometimes it looks like sitting at a ball field with a former foster love’s mom and being her village. He’s the one who has brought me to my knees more times than my own children. He’s the one I lie awake at night thinking about. He’s the one I beg the father to protect. He’s the one who makes me want to get in the trenches over and over again. It’s our Bubba. So much of the story is not mine to tell, but the...
When we decided to give our preschooler another year before kindergarten, I thought the hardest part would be explaining it to other people. I was wrong. The hardest part was the afternoon her teacher asked to talk. In that split second in the pick-up line, my heart sank. I assumed the worst. I braced myself for a conversation about behavior, about something we had somehow missed, about whether her strong personality was causing problems. Instead, it became the moment that confirmed what we already knew. We were not holding her back. We were giving her time. Our daughter is bright....
My life changed on that beautiful autumn day. The thing is, nothing really happened. Not really. My life kind of went on as usual. A fly on the wall might even say it was a great day. I brought my 3-year-old son to an animal farm for a Halloween event. He was quirky as usual and a bit ornery that day. Aloof. “Come feed the baby animals,” I pleaded. No, thank you. Crowds of excited children? Absolutely not. Buckets of candy? You can keep them. My heart ached watching my beautiful, blonde-haired boy wander into a field alone, away from...
Last night I watched an episode of Shrinking. If you haven’t jumped into the series yet, it’s one of those that hits the heart hard- at least for me. The episode centered on the birth of a baby, while one of the characters grappled with the closing years of life. Spoiler alert: as the elder of the group cradled this new life in his arms, bridging generations across the hospital room, the moment of realization of how fast life goes hit like a ton of bricks. “Enjoy the ride, kid.” The final words of this episode are sitting with me,...
With four kids at three different schools, our days are full. Between sports practices, music lessons, clubs, rehearsals, games, meets, and playdates, it feels like we’re constantly heading somewhere. I love that my children are involved in activities, but occasionally, it’s nice to have some downtime. When I get a text or email that a practice has been canceled, it’s usually a huge relief. Last week, after-school sports were cancelled due to heavy rain. When I picked up my youngest son from school, I told him we’d be going straight home for the rest of the afternoon. He looked surprised....
I have a confession: Yesterday I let my 11-year-old play with fire. Like literally. We live in the country, there is still wet snow on the ground, and he’s done it with his dad at least 20 times. But yesterday was the fifth consecutive day of no school, and probably the twentieth consecutive day of him asking to have a small fire without dad. Part of me did it out of laziness. Part of me did it out of selfishness. And part of me did it out of nostalgia. Here’s the thing—when I was 11, I was already babysitting (like...
He doesn’t remember the day she came home.But she has never known a world without him. From the beginning, he was there first. The first to reach for her hand. The first to explain the rules. The first to decide what was fair and what absolutely was not. He didn’t know he was being assigned a role. He just stepped into it. Big brother. She followed him everywhere. Into rooms she technically wasn’t invited into. Into games she didn’t fully understand. Into stories she insisted on hearing again and again. She wanted to do what he did, say what he...
I was in the middle of the post-holiday clean-up chaos when something hit me. My oldest daughter is seven, and while it feels like an age that doesn’t get talked about much, it really is turning out to be such a sweet spot. It hit me as we were redesigning her room. A change that occurred when she broke my mama-heart a few weeks prior by saying she didn’t think she wanted a princess room anymore. While everything in me wanted to try to convince her to keep it, stay small and sweet just a little longer, I knew I...
God made a gymnast with fearless grace, strength in her heart, and a fire in her spirit. He molded her courage, steady and true, and quietly whispered, “We believe in you.” He taught her balance when life feels chaotic and messy, to leap into her faith and stick each landing just right. When she stumbles, He is always right there to help her rise back up with faith in her soul and a spark in her eyes. Each floor routine with the grace of a swan; each move is a dream, all built on dedication and grit. God made her...

