An Open Letter to Parents
Dear Fellow Parents,
Today, I’m not going to sell you anything. I just wanted to take a moment to tell you something you don’t hear enough. Especially from yourself. Here it is. You’re doing a great job.
You’re working so hard to provide for your family. Maybe last night, you came home tired and collapsed onto the couch, watching the kids tear around the house, making messes like it’s their job. In the middle of all the chaos and the noise do you ever think about what you want to give them to remember from their childhood? Maybe you look back on your own childhood fondly. But maybe you don’t and you want something different for your kids. Either way, I know how much you want them to just be able to not grow up too fast. To look at the world with curiosity and wonder, to have some adventures, to imagine and create, and above all, to know they were loved.
I’m not going to tell you that you need to take your kids to Disney. You don’t. You are their adventure. You are their first playmates, the conductor of their wonder, and their horsey in the horsey rides. Regardless of where you go or what you do with your kids, they are going to know that you loved them. They may not remember all the details. They may not realize what it took for you to get down on all fours to be the horsey after a day on your feet. They may not realize that grocery shopping with them always took an extra 45 minutes. They may not know how hard you saved to give them a family vacation. But they will remember how they felt when they were with you. You are their safe place. You are their goodnight and good morning! In a million tiny moments, you are there for them. In a million little ways, you’re supporting and challenging them.
Sometimes, I know it feels thankless. The messes seem to multiply. I heard a mom say yesterday that she felt like a parent should get another set of arms for every kid they had. Wouldn’t that look funny! But I understood her point. It is hard—at times, exhausting. At time, heartbreaking. Humbling. But so worth it. Your kids are worth it. And you’re doing a great job.
So from me, here’s a hug, a coffee, and a Mickey balloon (just for you),
Angie
