Parenting is largely guesswork. Luckily, most of our children come to us young, so they don’t realize they’re experiments until much later.
There’s so much to being a parent. Really, there are limitless ways you could screw up your kids. Every now and then I get a little freaked about that and I have to take a step back and think about what really matters to me.
When my children are grown, it won’t matter as much if their plates had BPA; it will matter that we sat together at the table.
When they’re grown, it won’t matter as much that the house was never fully clean; it will matter that we had fun making messes.
When they’re grown, it won’t matter if they had expensive toys. It will matter that we made a card out of construction paper and mailed it to their grandma.
When they’re grown, it won’t matter that they had too much processed food; it will matter that they stood on a chair in the kitchen and stirred the batter by my side.
When they’re grown, it won’t matter that we didn’t have nice furniture; it will matter that I was there, watching, while a superhero practiced flying from the futon to the couch.
When they’re grown, it won’t matter that money was always a little tight and bedrooms were shared; it will matter that they know children are a blessing, and there’s always room for one more.
When they’re grown, I want them to love God. I want them to love other people and be honest and kind and giving. I want them to know how to weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice. I want them to know they’re so loved. That’s what matters most.