Raising Kids, Raising Myself Raising Kids, Raising Myself

Raising kids, raising myself

Parenting teaches more than it tests. A reflection on learning, failing, forgiving, and growing right alongside our kids.

“Parenting is a journey of constant adjustment, not a path to perfection.”

Janet Lansbury

When I first became a dad, I thought the hard part would be sleep deprivation or installing a car seat without swearing in front of a baby.

Turns out, it’s something much trickier: learning to grow at the same time they do.

Parenting holds up a mirror.
It shows you every impatient sigh, every selfish instinct, every habit you thought you’d outgrown.
It also shows you what’s possible—the better version of yourself that your kids already believe in.

They don’t need me to be perfect. They just need me to keep practicing.

Over time, I’ve realized there are a few qualities worth leaning into. Not because I’ve mastered them—but because they’re the things that make this whole “raising humans” gig a little less chaotic, and a little more meaningful.


Kindness

The quiet kind. The hold-your-tongue kind.
The kind that helps me remember my kids aren’t giving me a hard time—they’re having a hard time.

Curiosity

Asking questions instead of pretending I have all the answers.
Letting my kids teach me things—even if that means learning about dinosaur classifications for the 47th time.

Patience

Or at least a better reaction time before losing it.
Because progress in parenting often looks like a longer pause between “What were you thinking?” and “It’s okay.”

Humor

A survival skill, really.
If I can laugh when someone spills an entire bowl of cereal onto the dog, I’m doing alright.

Forgiveness

For them, of course—but also for me.
Because some days are all grace and giggles. And others… well, others end with me apologizing for how I handled the grace and the giggles.


I’m learning that parenting isn’t about shaping my kids into perfect people.
It’s about letting the process shape me.

It’s about showing them how to live, not just telling them.
How to say sorry. How to start over.
How to love each other through the mess.

Some nights, I feel like I’m getting the hang of it. Other nights, I’m just hoping everyone’s still alive and mostly clothed by bedtime.

But that’s okay.
The goal isn’t perfection—it’s progress.
And every small step, every small laugh, every small act of trying again—that’s where the real growth lives.

Parenting, it turns out, isn’t a test to pass.
It’s a practice to keep.