Lisa O
You carry these small what-ifs around as a parent. They don’t go away. Not the huge mistakes or anything devastating. Just the quiet stuff you’d rewind if you could. That bedtime you rushed. The game you turned down. At the time, it all felt so pressing. It wasn’t. You weren’t a bad parent. You were just a human trying to get through the day.
Not Recording Their Voice Enough
You took plenty of photos. Maybe even videos of birthdays and holidays. But you didn’t think to record them just talking on a random Tuesday. The way they said “spaghetti” wrong, or narrated every thought while coloring. Now they’re older, and that voice is gone completely. You can’t remember how it sounded. There’s a video of them singing in the car, but the radio was too loud. You wish you’d turned it down.
Being Too Tired to Play
They wanted you to build the block tower one more time or play pretend in the backyard. You said maybe later because you’d been working all day and your back hurt. Later never came. They eventually stopped asking and found something else to do. You remember sitting on the couch with your coffee getting cold while they played alone in the next room. It wouldn’t have taken long. Maybe ten minutes.
Caring Too Much About the Mess
The flour was everywhere on the counter and the floor, and it had somehow got into their hair. You got frustrated because you’d just cleaned the kitchen an hour ago. They were trying to help make cookies. Their face fell when you sighed. You finished the baking quickly and quietly after that. The kitchen got clean again, but the moment was already over. You can still see the footprints they left as they walked away.
Not Writing Down the Things They Said
Kids say the strangest and funniest things without even trying. You always thought you’d remember them—the bizarre questions about how clouds work, or the made-up words they used for everything. But memory isn’t as reliable as you thought it would be. Now you grasp at fragments. Something about dinosaurs and bedtime. Something about the moon. You wish you’d kept a notebook by the kitchen table.
Missing the Small Milestones
Everyone remembers the first steps. First words get talked about for years. But you missed when they figured out their shoelaces by themselves. You were unloading groceries or answering a work call, and one day, they stopped grabbing your hand in parking lots, and you didn’t notice. These changes happen so quietly. You’re distracted by dinner or bills, and suddenly they’ve grown up.
Choosing Work Over Presence
You took the extra shift or answered emails after they went to bed. The mortgage needed paying. The promotion felt important. However, you can’t remember what any of those emails were about. You do remember their disappointed face when you said you couldn’t come to the school thing. They said it was fine. They learned to expect it. That might be worse than if they’d gotten mad.
Comparing Them to Other Kids
You worried they weren’t reading as early as the neighbour’s kid. Or that they seemed shyer than their cousin. You mentioned it once or twice. Maybe more than that. They probably noticed even when you didn’t say anything out loud. Kids pick up on that stuff. The comparison sat between you like static. They were always exactly who they were supposed to be. You just couldn’t see it yet through all the worry.
Not Letting Them Help
They wanted to crack the eggs or push the grocery cart. It would have taken twice as long and made twice the mess. You said next time. You did it yourself because it was faster and easier. They watched from the chair pulled up to the counter. Eventually, they stopped offering. You robbed them of a chance to learn and yourself of watching them try. The eggs would have washed off the floor just fine.
Being on Your Phone Too Much
They were telling you about something that happened at school. A friend, a game or something they built. You were scrolling through something that didn’t matter. You said “uh-huh” without looking up. They stopped talking mid-sentence and walked away. The silence didn’t register until later. You don’t remember what you were looking at. Probably nothing. Just the habitual checking that fills every empty second.
Yelling When You Could Have Talked
They spilt the juice, broke the remote or forgot their homework again. You raised your voice more than the situation needed. The frustration had been building for hours over unrelated things. They were just the breaking point. Their eyes got wide and hurt. You apologised later, but they didn’t forget. Neither did you. The moment lives in your chest like a stone you can’t set down.
Not Slowing Down Enough
Everything was always a rush. Get dressed faster. Eat quicker. Hurry up, we’re late. They wanted to stop and look at the bug on the sidewalk. You kept walking. There was always somewhere to be or something to do next. The schedule ruled everything. Now you realise most of those appointments and errands weren’t that important. You could have stopped. You could have looked at the bug.
Worrying Too Much About the Wrong Things
You stress about grades, screen time, and whether they eat enough vegetables. Big picture stuff that felt critical. But you missed the actual worries they carried. The friend situation was one they didn’t know how to talk about. The fear they had about something small and specific. You were solving the wrong problems. They needed you to notice what was underneath. You were too busy managing outcomes to see what they actually needed.
Not Keeping Their Artwork
They brought home paintings and drawings every week. The fridge was covered. Eventually, you had to throw some away because there were just too many. You kept a few, but not enough. Now you can’t remember what most of them looked like. There was one with a purple tree you wish you’d kept. They drew your family holding hands. It went in the recycling bin during a weekend cleanup. It shouldn’t have.
Not Being Silly Enough
You were the responsible one. The rule-keeper ensured that homework was done and teeth were brushed. Someone had to be. But you sometimes forget to be ridiculous. To make up songs or have a dance party in the kitchen. They would have loved that. You focused so hard on raising them right that you forgot to just be light with them. The balance tipped too far toward the serious. There was room for both.
Not Trusting the Moment
You were always thinking ahead or planning what comes next—worrying about things that might go wrong. They were right there wanting your attention, and you gave it, but only halfway. Part of you stayed somewhere else. In the future, stuck in the past or running through that list of things to handle. The moment was enough on its own. They were enough. You just couldn’t figure out how to stay there completely.