Every parent has their own little secret vault of confessions, right? Well, here’s one from mine.
Every Sunday morning, my partner and I take our twin toddlers, Jake and Liam, to music class. We’ve been at it for a year now, but I can still vividly recall my apprehension during our first session. The class emphasizes parental involvement, encouraging us to “show, not tell” our children how to enjoy music—whether that means singing, dancing, pretending to be animals with instruments, or just being downright silly.
Let me tell you, I’m not exactly a pro at being “silly,” especially outside our cozy playroom. However, the people-pleaser in me took over, and I decided to fully engage in the experience. My partner, Alex, was absolutely on board too, but I sensed he didn’t have the same reservations as I did—he’s quite the champion of silliness.
A few months into our journey, a new family joined our class for a trial session. By then, I had become adept at flapping imaginary wings and bouncing around like a rabbit. The visiting dad, however, was understandably more reserved. While his wife and kids dove into the fun, he remained outside the circle, watching with a detached expression, even during the “free dance” when everyone could let loose.
After class, I turned to Alex and expressed my relief that he wasn’t like that dad. I even wondered aloud if that father ever let loose and had fun with his kids. (Yikes, can you see why this is still in my confession vault?)
Later that day, I revisited the topic with Alex. I felt compelled to share my judgment, which I now regretted. Since I couldn’t apologize directly to the visiting dad, I figured I’d put my thoughts out into the universe. The nagging question in my mind was: Who was I to judge this father? He was in a new environment, likely feeling the pressure of being around strangers. Maybe he was shy or simply not in the mood to participate. Perhaps he had been feeling unwell and didn’t want to risk spreading anything to the other kids.
What mattered most was that he was there with his family. He didn’t stay home or wait in the car—he chose to be part of that experience, engaging as much as he felt comfortable. For all I knew, he could have been the one leading a sing-along in the car once they left. And if he wasn’t, who was I to say anything? One class doesn’t define the kind of father or husband he is, and it struck me that I had no right to critique his choices.
I’m grateful I caught myself and turned around my judgment. But it was alarmingly easy to slip into that critical mindset, almost like it was second nature. That realization was a wake-up call for me.
Not long after, I experienced a moment of “mom judgment” from another mother in the class. Initially, I felt hurt and indignant, sharing my feelings with friends who laughed but also warned me that it only gets more challenging as kids grow. They’re right, of course, but can’t we aspire to do better? I’ll certainly try my best.
For more insights on parenting and family life, check out our other blog posts, like this one on home insemination techniques. If you’re curious about home insemination, Make a Mom is a fantastic resource. And for a comprehensive guide on pregnancy week-by-week, March of Dimes is an excellent reference.
In summary, it’s all too easy to judge other parents based on fleeting moments, but we must remember that everyone has their own unique circumstances. Being present with our kids, no matter how we choose to engage, is what truly matters. Let’s strive for understanding and compassion rather than criticism.