The Power (and Pressure) of Parenthood

The other morning, my 8-year-old daughter was making herself a smoothie.

She carefully sliced up the strawberries, got out the frozen pineapple, poured in the milk, and even operated the blender all on her own. It wasn’t the world’s most complicated task, but I was proud because I try to practice what I preach when it comes to giving kids independence. Autonomy builds confidence, and confidence builds competence.

But then, as she went to pour her smoothie, it happened.
She moved too quickly, and in the blink of an eye, the blender blade fell out, followed by a tidal wave of smoothie erupting across the kitchen counter. Frozen pink goop, everywhere.

And I...overreacted.
I scolded her for being careless. I told her to clean it up. I let frustration take over instead of recognizing the moment for what it was: a simple mistake. A teaching moment.

The truth? I had been standing by the whole time. I’d offered to help. I told her, “Let me know if you need anything.” And when everything spilled, I instinctively snapped, “I said I would help! Why didn’t you ask?”

But here’s the thing: she didn’t know she would need help. She didn’t know the blade would fall out. At 8 years old, she was doing her best. And I was the one who missed the opportunity to be the adult I promised myself I would be.

I wasn’t raised in a home where parents apologized.
Parents got angry.
Parents reacted.
And then we all moved on.

I swore I would break that cycle. But there I was, doing exactly the thing I said I wouldn’t do.

So I took a breath. I gave myself a moment. And then...I apologized. And let me tell you- it was hard.
Because growing up, parents were never wrong. So to admit fault, to kneel down and say, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way”, felt almost unnatural.

I expected her to shrug it off, say she was fine, and move on, like I was taught to do. But instead, she looked me straight in the eyes, smiled, and gave me the biggest hug.

And in that hug, she said so much without saying a word.
She told me it was okay.
She told me she forgave me.
She told me she knew that was difficult for me. And I truly believe she was proud of me. My eight year old.

I’ve had so many moms tell me that their kids act differently with me. That reading at home often leads to tears, that math practice turns into frustration and yelling. I hear things like, “Mrs. Brookshire doesn’t do it like that!” And I understand. Deeply.

Parenthood is hard.
It is messy; because we are messy.
And the pressures parents face today? Unparalleled.

But parenthood is also powerful.
It is the power to rewrite the script of our own childhood.
It is the power to show our children that adults can make mistakes, and more importantly, own them.
It is the power to say, “I was wrong,” and mean it.

I am far from perfect.
But I am proud to be the kind of parent, and educator, who is willing to learn from her kids. Who is trying every day to raise children who believe that saying sorry is not a weakness, but a strength.

Because the real power of parenthood isn’t in being right.
It’s in being real.

With Gratitude,

Ashley