What Makes a Good Parent

Today, two of my dearest friends individually took turns sharing with me adorable antidotes of their weekend with their kids. I mean, great stuff. Funny, cherish-able-normal-life-memory-making stuff. Normally, I'd eat that stuff up. It makes me smile from the inside out. But today I had nothing. Like driving a golf ball into a lake. Ker-plunk. Driving home I felt horrible for not connecting more to my friends for the great things these kids - that I love - were up to.

Maybe it was because I didn't have anything to offer back? Which meant I wasn't paying attention, which in my definition is a bad parent. I don't really care how anyone cares for their kids, or what their life circumstances are, because we all do it the best way we know how, but attention, there's no excuse for faltering. We don't typically open the blinds into our parenting style, but it's the best we know how to offer, with heavy emphasis on experiences and love. My kids can't set the table or write their own names. But...

Tonight Aria came bounding in from the garage to hear her newest favorite song. (Don't bother with the video, just enjoy the song.) And it brought me to a halt. She was so happy, clapping and dancing and dancing.

Roland and Aria helped me make blueberry pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, without incident.

Roland said "radical" tonight when I set his dinner in front of him. And ate every     single     piece.

The kids played like rock stars together in the garage, and cleaned it up afterwards. I know! Shock. Roland, Aria and I took turns drawing great masterpieces on the chalk board, with our final work, downtown at night, complete with roads (Roland), lightening (Aria), buildings with elevators (Roland), and stars (Mom). Roland even narrated a story of how to get to the city and what you did when you got there. Which was basically ride elevators all over the place, eventually ending up at the moon. To which I said, "Of course, that is an awesome idea." Who doesn't want an elevator to the moon?

They had a blast in the bath, without an instance of crying. (By now I'm thinking somethings up.)

Anyway, nothing makes me happier than hearing parents crush on their kids. I just suck in the glow that they give off and feel great inside. Hopefully here's some glow right back at 'cha. Because nothing, absolutely nothing, makes a better parent than just paying attention. I love my kids, and I know you do too.

Great job everyone.