Why focusing on the little moments makes you a better parent

My family is unconventional and I was often made to feel awkward and incompetent about that. Not anymore, writes Melissa Hoyer.

I’ve learnt not to sweat the small stuff and enjoy the moments we have together. Picture: Supplied

It’s something I think most parents will agree on: the little things our kids do that makes having a child sweeter.

Sure, there are those big, important milestones — when they first walk, their first word, their first night away from home, and so it goes.

But now I’m a single mum of a 16-year-old boy I often look back, and it’s the simple, small, and totally unexpected things that stay with me and really bring on that parental chest ache. It’s the kind of kooky and crazy things he did, and continues to do, that come to mind straight away.

The problem is, I think we often forget the art of cultivating those micro-moments when we’re on the lookout for the big achievements.

I still remember the morning my son suddenly told me it was dress-up day with zero notice and we flew around the house concocting this ridiculous little French outfit.

I still have no idea what the inspiration was behind his beret, eyeliner stick that made his moustache, a little jacket, gloves and a bread stick — but it ended up taking out the best dressed prize so we must have been doing something right.

Fast forward to today, that same son is now learning to drive. We recently shared another one of these small, but precious moments: the first time I sat in the passenger seat and let him take the wheel. I looked at this not-so-little boy of mine and thought, “Wow, just one more year of school to go and he’ll be out in the world.”

It doesn’t look important but it was special to me. Picture: Melissa Hoyer

It was a big moment, the act of him taking the wheel, wrapped around a smaller one I had while looking at him — both of which I know will never leave me.

As a working parent, making sure I’m getting enough “memorable moments” in often comes with an element of guilt. Not working was never an option for me, so I made a commitment a long time ago that I would try to be mindful of every moment I spent with my son — even if we’re just laying on the lounge across from each other watching Netflix.

It doesn’t always work out like that, I’m not claiming to be a yogi-Zen-saint, but being a mum has taught me to try.

Another thing having a child has taught me is that you really can’t sweat the small stuff.

Sure, we all hear about the “great single parent juggle” — the not-getting-to-school pick-up on time because a meeting just went a bit longer than normal. The “Oops, I forgot it was dress-up day” days. Those things do cause a small kick of guilt, but they are officially in the camp of small stuff not worth sweating.

I’ve also made my peace with a bigger cause of guilt I felt when my son was younger. I, like so many others, have an unconventional family and was often made to feel really awkward, and to be honest, incompetent about that.

The way my ex and I provide for our son isn’t the usual way we hear so many other families do. There is no sitting around a perfectly set table with dad, mum, the kids and the pets, having meaningful conversations and teachable moments every night.

And still, the beautiful and strong teenage boy we are bringing up has a resilience, maturity and empathy that we couldn’t have ever dreamt of. He genuinely gets the fact that mum has to work, which often has me working unconventional hours, and understands that dad has to work too.

Having been brought up in public housing myself, and certainly not coming from any kind of moneyed background, both his dad and I have saved and saved to make him a Monday to Friday weekly boarder to give him the security and structure we aren’t in the position to provide ourselves.

While it’s not for everyone, the relationships our son has forged with school buddies and that extraordinary structure he has, where he knows his homework is done at a certain time, dinner is eaten at a certain time and bedtime is also at a certain time, is honestly what works best for him.

And he is the only person we need to worry about. We laugh. We love. And we roll with all the punches. And it’s this aspect of parenting — the letting go of preconceived notions of perfect — that has freed me up to appreciate the micro-moments we have together.