In the early stages of parenting (I’m talking EARLY…first kid, early 20s, no clue what I was doing), I picked every battle. Everything was a heavy, deep decision that troubled my heart. From vaccines to diapering to which blender I’d use to make homemade baby food. I hadn’t slept in days and I couldn’t determine which decisions would have long-term effects and which ones didn’t really matter. Because with motherhood, it feels like every moment matters. After a few years of experience, I started to realize something: most of this stuff actually doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. If your child has a safe space, full belly, love and affection, and a warm place to sleep at night, everything else is small potatoes.
I teach kindergarten. I can’t tell you which kids were formula fed and which ones were breastfed. I can’t tell you which ones still sleep snuggled next to mommy and which ones sleep alone. I can’t tell you which student has an all-organic diet at home or which ones were potty trained early. Most nights, like clockwork, my nine-year-old crawls into bed with me.
I used to worry that something was wrong with that. Is she too dependent on me? Am I “spoiling” her somehow? I finally realized this: kids will get where they’re meant to be, but it will be on their terms, in their own time and space. I’m learning to roll with it. Now, I don’t overthink it. I just embrace the love and tender moments. Someday, I won’t know it, but it will be her last time crawling in my bed at night. She’ll be too grown up for that, and I’ll be missing her.
So for now, I’ll embrace the unknown and varied journey of parenting. We’ll never get these days back.
