It’s been a long time since I last wrote about my experiences as a parent. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because everything has felt so overwhelming lately. However, last weekend, I experienced a moment so special that it reminded me of the importance of being present as a parent. I promised myself I would put it into words.
My 7-year-old son takes swimming lessons every week. Usually, my husband is the one to take him, but this time, my son insisted that I go. The lesson lasts 45 minutes, and parents are allowed to watch. When we arrived, he asked me to sit in a specific spot.
Normally, I use this time to reply to my messages. Occasionally, I glance up to see how my son is doing. It’s a welcome pause from the fast-paced life of parenting two active kids.
But this time, I made a different choice – a conscious decision to focus on being present as a parent. I decided to put my phone away.
And that’s when I saw it. Every few minutes, my son would lift his gaze from the water to look for me. His big, sparkling eyes searched for mine, and the moment we made eye contact, he would break into a wide smile filled with pride—a pride that warmed my soul. This little ritual repeated itself again and again, every couple of minutes, as if he wanted to make sure I was there, that I saw him, that I was paying attention.
In those moments, I felt an overwhelming mix of love and guilt. Love, for this incredible little person for whom my presence meant so much. Guilt, for all the times I hadn’t caught his gaze, too preoccupied with my phone or other distractions that don’t matter nearly as much. I wondered how many of these precious moments I had missed without even realising it. How many times had he lifted his eyes to find me, only to discover I wasn’t looking?
It reinforced something I already knew deep down: being present as a parent matters more than anything else I could offer my children. They don’t need hundreds of activities, material things, or grand achievements from me. What they crave most is my undivided attention. They want to feel seen, heard, admired, and loved. They long for genuine connection, to know that I am fully there with them— body and soul.
So, I opened my eyes and my heart to catch every glance, every smile.
Moments like these remind me that true happiness and life’s greatest joys come from the simplest things.
My children are the most precious gifts I have. I don’t need to give them perfection; I just need to give them me. And every day, I strive to be well, to have something meaningful to offer them too.