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4/19/14 Watching Kids Grow

I just watched Whitney do an ROTC interplay competition with the military parade; it was incredible.

Three hours out in the beautiful spring sunshine here in Austin - it is a gorgeous day and one could not ask for better weather.


I do not begrudge my daughter the three hours that I sat in the sun on bleachers for her,  nor do I begrudge getting up every Saturday morning early for the last two months for her -  it is part of the privilege of being her mom.

If I can say anything to inspire parents of young children it is to get involved with what your children are doing, put the time into them at the beginning because if you don't, you will end up putting time in at the latter part but not necessarily in the way that you want to.

Let me explain. When Melanie and Kaitlyn were little and I became a single working parent,  me being a part of their extracurricular lives was not always possible. I did what I could. I did not abandon them nor did I just not go. I could not go because of work schedules.  I made as many events as possible, often giving up sleep or exhausting vacation time.  They still missed out on interactive time with me, and as they became teenagers, this interactive time came back around in the form of rebellious behaviors and attitudes.  I missed work and lost sleep again, this time to go to court for shoplifting or truancy. From my perspective, I have put in lots more "bad" time than I ever did "good" time.

As children grow, we naturally look backwards in regret............we regret many things.  It is the mark of a good parent to strive to make things always better.  For me, I look back with double regrets because I feel deprived of precious time I wanted years ago but did not have.  Resentful of court or school appearances, I often withdrew from my children, unable to reconcile my pain and regrets.

I want desperately to go back and do it all over.  I would make decisions that would keep my daughters in extra-curricular activities.  I would make decisions that although would make me feel imprisoned would provide me with more time with my precious little girls.  I mourn for each of them as I struggle to establish adult relationships with the young women who stand before me.  I live out the prophetic reality of Harry Chapin's "The Cat's in the Cradle" over and over, stuck in a loop of repeated regret and regression.




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