A Letter to Parents

If you are reading this on a Tuesday evening, between dinner and bedtime, between one meltdown and the next one you cannot yet see, I want to tell you that you are not doing it wrong.

Your child is whole. You are whole. The exhaustion is not a measure of your love.

Write this on a sticky note if you need to. Tape it to the inside of the cupboard door where you hide sometimes to breathe. Next to the chocolate chips. Or the tea.

A parent’s work is endless. May you be held by the great beauty of all that you do.