When You Miss the Mark As a Parent

If you’re like me and sometimes you completely miss the mark as a parent, I see you. You are not alone. Parenting is by far the most complex, challenging role I have had in my life. I am regularly humbled by my insufficiencies, and maybe that’s how it is supposed to be.

In mid-December my daughter and I were in the car on the way home from school pickup when a message popped up on Apple CarPlay. This year Vivian has learned how to read, which is on the one hand amazing, and on the other hand proves to be inconvenient for any kind of incognito text messaging. As we were traveling down Memorial drive, she sees a message from “Jordan Dubin” on the screen.

“Hey mom, you have a message from Jordan and who is that?” Yes, she is now keeping track of all my messages, primarily to intercept any from the school moms that hold the promise of an impending playdate. I look in the rearview mirror and say, “Oh it’s a message from the man at the jewelry store about the necklace I’m having made.”

Instantly, her face changed. “Awe, I want that necklace.” Now, what I should have done in that moment was take a breath, but alas, that is not what I did. Instead, my emotional regulation went out the window (literally), and I went into full-on lecture mode. The scene that follows is not pretty, fair warning.

I looked at her and proceeded to say, “Vivian, you don’t get to have everything that Mommy has. That is not how this works kiddo. You need to be grateful for all the things that you do have, for all the gifts that you receive. I really don’t like this attitude of always wanting something more, you can’t have everything that I have, it’s not reasonable.”

In a split second, her face dropped, tears swelled up in her eyes and she got very, very quiet. When I looked back at her again, I knew I had said the absolute wrong thing in that moment, and her sweet little heart was hurt. All I was thinking was wow my kid is spoiled and ungrateful, and I have done a bad job parenting. The rack of necklaces in her bedroom flashed into my head and all I could think was, can’t you just be thankful?

We proceeded to ride the rest of the way home in near silence. I tried to repair the situation; I really did. If I am honest, I don’t recall what I said to try to smooth the tension and mend the rift that just ripped through our relationship in a matter of mere seconds. Whatever I said didn’t work. When we arrived home, I was still annoyed and she was still sad. My poor husband didn’t have any idea of the storm that was coming his way.

I wish I could tell you that I had an awesome comeback later that night and that I did some A-level parenting after reading an insightful Instagram carousel of parenting wisdom. But that is not what happened. Vivian went into her playroom and I took a mental break in my room. We didn’t talk about it again that night.

About a week later at 2 a.m. when I couldn’t sleep because, well, perimenopause is a real thing, I felt the Spirit nudge me a little. As I was lying there it occurred to me that while my daughter does like pretty things (I can’t imagine where she gets that from), maybe her desire for my “necklace” wasn’t really about the piece of jewelry at all. It dawned on me that what she might have really been saying was, “Mom, I want that so I can be like you.”

And my next thought was, CRAP. Why couldn’t I have heard that in the moment when we were in the car? Why couldn’t I hear what was really behind her desire?

The thing is I am still getting accustomed to having a mini-me. I honestly forget, on regular occasion, how much my daughter wants to be like me. You would think that with her incessant tromping around the house in my heels, begging me to buy bright pink tennis shoes to match hers and wanting basically everything in my wardrobe, that I would have figured it out by now. But I forget. I wasn’t like that with my mom. I was constantly striking out to do my own thing. She always wanted to dress me in Talbots, and I am more of an Anthropologie girl. So, it escapes my mind that my daughter idolizes me and wants to be like me – including a pretty necklace that Jordan from Dubin’s Fine Jewelry made for me.

And so, in 2026, I am praying for new ears. I am asking God to help me pause, breathe and really “hear” what my daughter is trying to say through her whining voice that makes me want to scream. I want to hear the “need” behind the words, below the words. I want to hear the desires of her heart that she doesn’t know how to express yet because she is only six years old.

Maybe one of the most important lessons of parenting is how much we still must learn and how much we need God to fill all those cracks we make in the souls of our kids.