Lately, I’ve experienced a growing sense of dissatisfaction. 

In time, I’ve come to realize it’s directly related to the challenges associated with raising children.

I’ve spent the past 15 years pouring into my daughters. 

Emmett and I filled out that initial diaper/feeding chart with such detail, left breast/right breast xx number of minutes, our pediatrician laughed out loud when we proudly handed it over at Aurora’s first office visit. 

We attended over 70 hours of parenting and childbirth classes. We weren’t just going to be parents. We were going to be amazing parents. 

Fast forward fifteen years and four children. I feel like, somehow, in my intention to get it all right, I’ve gotten it all wrong. 

My mom worked and traveled, missing a lot of my childhood along the way. I vowed to do it differently so I quit my job and stayed home- signing up for every library, music and mommy-and-me art class available. I had memberships to the zoo, aquarium and museum and took our girls regularly. I faithfully joined a stroller strides exercise class so that not only could I remain healthy, but I could do it with my children, modeling for them what it means to take care of yourself, while still mothering. 

I created “The Gift of Time” for my girls. Handwriting 48 envelopes, one for each month for each girl with an activity they could choose to do with just mom or dad, no sisters to ensure they felt seen and appreciated as an individual. 

I didn’t just throw birthday parties- I threw over-the-top themed birthday parties with creative games and decor. I took them on special trips out of town- just one-on-one with mom to spend quality time and create lasting memories. 

And I LOVED it. I loved planning those parties and trips and spending time in class with them. I shared with them my love of reading and writing, nature and adventure, reveling in the wonder of it all. 

And yet, here I am. They are 8, 10, 12 and 14 and the magic of parenting is dissipating. 

I’ve come to the awful realization that in my attempt to heal myself, I poured into my children. 

And guess what? 

Spoiler alert: they are human. 

They are not just some extension of me and Emmett but a whole new individual with their own strengths, weaknesses, and ideas. 

When they talk back to me, I’m so hurt and offended. All I see is the little girl whose hand I held as we browsed books along the library shelves. Meanwhile, they are just testing boundaries and setting their own.

They don’t remember the mommy-and-me art classes or hours spent in the swing as my arm nearly fell off from pushing. They are fully living in the here and now with very minimal ability to reflect on and appreciate the idyllic childhood Emmett and I have provided them.

I now recognize that although it’s still my responsibility to nurture and care for these beautiful children, it’s essential that I not neglect nurture and care for myself. 

I do believe that each and every human is blessed with unique, God-given gifts. It’s our job to tap into those gifts and share them with the world. 

And while I think each of my daughters is spectacular in their own, amazing way, I know that is not my only contribution to the greater world (nor would they ever want the weight of that expectation!). 

My girls are growing. 

The reality is, they don’t need me like they used to. 

And before our nest empties, I need to take the time to figure out what’s next for me and for us, as a couple. 

Of course, that takes thought and time that I do not readily have available (going on 27 interruptions as I write this article). 

But perhaps the simple act of awareness is a start. 

It’s the knowing that there’s more to this story. 

New Leaf Parenting. 

Every day is a fresh start. 

Here’s to the next chapter.