There’s no magical formula or secret ingredient for navigating the parenting maze. For the past 25 years, we’ve been improvising as we go. Recently, our firstborn officially made us “in-laws” by marrying the lovely girl from down the street, marking a new chapter in our family saga.
Throughout this journey, we received plenty of advice and a few exceptional role models, but for the most part, we were like explorers without a map (or perhaps with a map upside down in the dark, trying not to wake the baby). We only had a couple of check-ins from outsiders: once when a hospital staff member jiggled the infant car seat as we were leaving with our newborn, and again when the daycare questioned why my toddler claimed he spent the weekend in a “cabinet.” Actually, it was a cabin. But hey, thanks for looking out!
Learning as we went became our norm. I had wonderful friends in the same boat, and we bounced parenting questions off each other long before Google and WebMD existed—maybe that was a blessing. We laid our 1991 babies to sleep on their tummies, only to have the guidelines switch to backs by 1993. Baby walkers were in, then suddenly banned. Confusing? Absolutely. It felt like we were part of a parenting experiment—just figuring it out as we went along.
Our son was quiet for a while, then suddenly had full conversations. He walked and learned to ride a bike later than most, and took his time warming up to swimming. But guess what? He can talk, walk, swim, and ride like a pro now. Can I reclaim the sleep lost worrying about his “delays”? No? Okay, I’ll just lose sleep over teen driving instead.
He was determined to walk the two-mile trek to kindergarten with his friends, even though they lived much closer. So off we went, with his little brother in tow. By the last stretch, I found myself carrying him on my back, urging him to hold on tight like a baby monkey at the zoo to avoid the dreaded tardy bell. Lesson learned: “monkey-tight” isn’t a practical transportation method!
After our third child arrived, we moved to a bigger house with three bedrooms: small, medium, and large. Naturally, we took the large room, thinking it sensible. But our boys had other ideas and presented a compelling case for why they should occupy the larger bedroom instead. They argued they had friends over and played in their room, while we just slept in ours. Solid logic—I caved.
Years later, our oldest son, now 11, made a list of all the adults shorter than he was who sat in the front seat of cars just because he was too young. Another solid argument!
With enough grace and some tough conversations (often laced with tears), we tackled the big questions. When his classmate passed away unexpectedly, he asked how God could allow such tragedies. I admitted my own confusion, promising him that when I get my coffee date with God, this will be my first question. That list grew over time, but nothing would haunt me as deeply as that moment. A year later, when we told the kids I had cancer, he asked if I was going to die. I had to answer truthfully: “Yes, but not from this.” Hard lessons indeed.
Life kept throwing lessons our way: a mountain of ball-bearings won’t support a minivan, so don’t try it! You can wear your baseball uniform to receive your math medal. Lacrosse is a contact sport. Spanish is useful. Playing guitar is a gift. Cherish laughter with grandparents, and remember that time spent at the beach or ballpark is never wasted. You might be a picky eater, but that phase can change overnight. Your brother is your greatest ally, and you support each other. In icy spins, countersteer. Cross the finish line together at the National Race for the Cure. Share struggles and joys, ice cream, music, memories, and hang that grad-school diploma up high with pride.
And when you discover that the right girl was living down the street all along, walking together through the neighborhood, sharing late-night talks in her treehouse, and planning movie marathons to understand each other, you just know.
As our son said at his engagement: “Nobody is surprised, and everyone who knows you two is thrilled.” Not bad for a couple of clueless parents—they took the navigational beacons we set and charted their own course. Wishing you both all the happiness as you embark on this new journey together.
Sometimes you hold on tightly, and sometimes, you let go gently.