If I Had My Child to Raise Over Again
This poem by Diane Loomans is on the wall at my son’s kindergarten.
And it struck me as articulating quite eloquently the paradoxes of parenting.
When we’re in the thick of it, we often don’t appreciate it enough. And when we’re past it, we lament the parent we could have been.
If I had my child to raise all over again,
I’d build self esteem first, and the house later.
I’d fingerpaint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I’d take more hikes and fly more kites.
I’d stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I’d do more hugging and less tugging.
I’d see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I’d model less about the love of power,
And more about the power of love.
It would be nice to “stop playing serious, and seriously play.”
But perhaps more realistic for me is to gaze at more stars.
