From Resentment to Connection

So much of how we experience parenting comes down to how we frame the demands of raising children. When we see their needs as burdens—viewing bedtime routines, emotional outbursts, or calls for attention as taking away from our time—it can breed resentment. But what if we shifted our lens and saw those moments not as attention-seeking, but as a desire for connection?
What if bedtime snuggles weren’t about losing alone time, but about being present in a season where they still need and want us? What if cutting toast the right way, or using the right coloured cup wasn’t about pickiness, but about helping them feel seen and heard?
These small acts build trust. They create an environment where our children want to talk to us, where they feel safe to bring us the big stuff, the hard stuff. That sense of safety doesn’t happen all at once—it’s built in the little things we do every day—with presence and love
As we shift from the unstructured days of summer into the more demanding routines of the school year, these moments of connection become even more important. The transition can bring anxiety and emotional ups and downs—for us and our kids. But if we approach it with the mindset that our kids are having a hard time, not giving us a hard time, we soften our response.
When they act out, melt down, or speak rudely, it’s rarely about a desire to hurt us. It’s usually about overwhelmed feelings, and not knowing how to cope. Holding that perspective—even just sometimes—can change how we respond, allowing us to lead with empathy rather than frustration.
At the same time, we can’t ignore the adult experience. We, too, get stressed, exhausted, and unwell. Parenting with empathy doesn’t mean showing up perfectly—it means showing up consistently. And when we do that with kindness and respect, something beautiful happens; on the days we can’t, our children often show up for us.
On those days when we’re too tired to read a story, too sick to make breakfast, or too overwhelmed to respond gently, we see the fruits of our effort. Our child might read to us instead. They might pour their own cereal—and even get some for a sibling. They might give us grace when our tone slips, because they’ve learned that kindness and understanding go both ways.
Parenting is demanding—and also incredibly temporary. The very things that wear us down today may be the things we’ll miss tomorrow. Many of these tasks we’ll do anyway—so why not do them with presence, joy, and love?
This doesn’t mean we do everything or give in to everything. It means finding the balance between meeting needs and building independence. Between showing up and letting go. Between boundaries and warmth.
Because ultimately, parenting is less about the tasks we complete—and more about the relationships we build.