Good parents strive to be the best for our kids. We work hard at loving them well. We feed them the right foods, help with their school work, hold them when they are afraid. Brent and I are both high achievers in life in general - Master’s degrees at 22 and 23 while working full-time, scholar athletes - you get the drift. We approach parenting with the same tenacity as any other thing in life.
Parenting two kids who have been through the foster care system has required a lot of hard work, and it’s own set of desired outcomes for two achievers like ourselves. But the other night at the dinner table, when Amie told Brent he was a “Regular Dad” and me a “Regular Mom”, we were thrilled. It was the highest of compliments she could have paid.
The girls have been asking more questions about their birth parents and other experiences in foster care. I have been quite honest with them about the situations in which they were placed, and what their lives were like before. One foster to adopt situation was especially traumatic for them, ending with the girls in the hospital, and the soon to be adoptive father in jail. One child still has nightmares about it.
That night at the dinner table, they were talking about different parents with whom they have lived. Amie said, “There was a dad who was bad. He’s in jail now. He can’t hurt us. And, we have a good dad now,” looking at Brent, “You’re a regular dad.” And then to me, “And you’re a regular mom.”
I nearly melted into a puddle of sappy tears. There is no award, no accolade, no title more desired by this high achieving couple than “Regular”. To Amie, “regular” means safe. It means security, a normal family, a haven for a home.
We will wear our title of “Regular Parents” loud and proud. I can think of no higher calling.
Parenting two kids who have been through the foster care system has required a lot of hard work, and it’s own set of desired outcomes for two achievers like ourselves. But the other night at the dinner table, when Amie told Brent he was a “Regular Dad” and me a “Regular Mom”, we were thrilled. It was the highest of compliments she could have paid.
The girls have been asking more questions about their birth parents and other experiences in foster care. I have been quite honest with them about the situations in which they were placed, and what their lives were like before. One foster to adopt situation was especially traumatic for them, ending with the girls in the hospital, and the soon to be adoptive father in jail. One child still has nightmares about it.
That night at the dinner table, they were talking about different parents with whom they have lived. Amie said, “There was a dad who was bad. He’s in jail now. He can’t hurt us. And, we have a good dad now,” looking at Brent, “You’re a regular dad.” And then to me, “And you’re a regular mom.”
I nearly melted into a puddle of sappy tears. There is no award, no accolade, no title more desired by this high achieving couple than “Regular”. To Amie, “regular” means safe. It means security, a normal family, a haven for a home.
We will wear our title of “Regular Parents” loud and proud. I can think of no higher calling.
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