How We Parent When No One is Looking

How we parent when no one is looking varies vastly from how we parent with an audience. When no one is looking, there is no sepia filter over your dirty toilet and there is no thumbs up for your burnt lasagna. There is not a bright blue bird chirping your praises when you made the bed this week. How we parent when no one is looking is a calendar with events in pencil in case someone gets sick. Or you cannot handle the anxiety of yet another child-filled activity.

When people are watching, the guards are up, the masks are glitter-filled, and peachy-parenting is on high alert. How do people perceive what I do as a mother by what they see? What needs to really be said? Or not said? Really does there need to be an audience? Do we need to gain approval from strangers?

How we parent when no one is looking can be celebratory. Sinful. Freeing. Brilliant. Beautiful. Insightful. Lonely. Fulfilling. Confusing. And those are the filters I want to see.

I want to parent like no one is looking. I want to skip a shower, and put mismatched socks on my son because I would rather be on time to hug our friends at library storytime than sport matching clothing with name brand labels. I want to wear the same outfit I wore the day before, even if I am around the same people. Those are my favorite jeans. Let me be me.

I want to parent like no one is looking when there is trouble on the playground. I want to cup my child’s face in my hands, look into his eyes and get to the heart of the matter, even if my voice is a little too high pitched and it makes you uncomfortable. That is how I want to parent.

I want to enjoy a meal with my children in public, even when their voices carry above yours, when ketchup packets flop to the ground, when they open the door for you to exit the building and smear their sticky fingers all over the glass. We do not get to enjoy a meal often in a restaurant. It is a treat, they are excited. Let them be who they are.

I want to parent like no one is looking, even if that means not photographing every moment, every color page, every haircut, each holiday and broadcasting it online. One morning my four year old woke up early, and rubbing his eyes asked if he could go out and sit on the front porch, just to watch the sun rise. He watch the sun, and I watched him. My camera stayed in its case and my phone on the charger. And that memory will stay in my heart forever, regardless of who else knew. I was looking.

I want to be present, understanding, kind, worthy, bold, brave, and lovely. And I can be those things with or without an audience.

I want to parent like no one is looking. Even when they are.