When I think about what really sparks my admiration, it’s good parenting. Real parenting. The kind that isn’t always pretty, convenient, or Instagram-ready.
I admire parents who can give tough discipline — the kind that hurts them to give. The kind that comes with a deep breath, maybe even a few tears, but they don’t back down because they know their child needs boundaries, not a best friend. That kind of strength always stops me in my tracks. It’s love in its hardest form.
And then there’s the selflessness. Parents who choose time with their kids even when their friends are calling, plans are happening, or they’re tempted to grab a little “me time.” They put the family first — not because it’s easy, but because they understand their presence shapes a child’s whole world. That kind of commitment impresses me every time.
I admire the mom who talks a toddler through a meltdown in the grocery store without losing her cool. I admire the dad who, after a long workday, still gets down on the floor to build a lopsided Lego tower or listen to a 10-minute story that could’ve been told in 10 seconds.
What gets me the most are the little things — the patience, the consistency, the showing up even when you’re tired or stressed. Good parenting is a quiet kind of heroism. You don’t get applause for it. You don’t go viral for it. But you change a life with it.
And maybe I feel this more deeply now that I’m a grandfather. I watch my daughters with their kids — my seven partners-in-crime — choosing their families, standing firm when it’s hard, loving their kids through the easy and the messy. And I think, “Wow… they’re doing it right.”
Good parenting is love with backbone. And I admire it every single time I see it.
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