The Straightforward Reason I Apologize to My Kids

home insemination Kit

Picture this: I’m in the kitchen, flushed and shouting, and not a single soul in the house is paying attention. “I need help!” I exclaim, waving my hands, which are encased in oven mitts. “Dinner is ready! And there’s someone at the front door!” But still, no one shows up. With six kids around, you’d think at least one would pause their video game, homework, or TV binge to check on the frantic woman in the kitchen.

With my oven mitts still on, I storm to the front door and fling it open, only to see the UPS guy hastily retreating to his truck. “Yeah, you’d better hurry!” I consider yelling at him, a temporary outlet for the simmering anger within me. “Take your brown clipboard and truck and just—” I trail off; there was nowhere constructive to go with this. Instead, I gather my packages in my mitt-bound hands and head back inside.

“Dinner!” I shout, now even redder in the face as the pot on the stove threatens to boil over and the table remains unset. I begin calling out the names of my kids, even tossing in a few neighbor kids’ names for good measure. “All of you, get to the kitchen now!” I hear footsteps from both the basement and upstairs, and the only one ignoring me from the next room finally lumbers in, bleary-eyed.

It’s been a long, thankless day filled with laundry, grocery shopping, and an hour spent fixing the garbage disposal due to someone’s ill-fated attempt to dispose of a plastic spoon. No one seems the least bit affected by my obvious frustration, and in that moment—like the pot on the stove that’s about to overflow—I am entirely overrun with irritation.

“I can’t believe how selfish you all are!” I yell, dramatically tossing my oven mitts down for emphasis. “Make your own darn dinner!” I stomp out of the kitchen and head upstairs.

Three minutes later, I return to find the table set and six faces staring at me. Silently, I finish prepping dinner and serve their food. “I’m sorry,” I tell them. “I was frustrated and needed your help. But Mommy shouldn’t have yelled.” They nod in understanding, because let’s be honest, they’ve heard this before. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes—sometimes the same ones—so they are accustomed to my apologies. They accept it, the appropriate consequences (if needed) follow, and then we move on. Apologies in our house come in all shapes and sizes, from minor toy “borrowing” incidents to mother-dinner-stomping outbursts.

“We should have come to help sooner,” my son says, glancing around at his siblings. They shrug and nod back, showing various levels of remorse. It’s not a jubilant response, but it’s something—because in this house, we’re all a work in progress when it comes to saying sorry.

Growing up, my mom taught me the difference between “I’m sorry if…” and “I’m sorry that…” The first implies that maybe what I did wasn’t wrong, or that only the other person saw it that way. The second acknowledges the mistake, takes responsibility, and brings it into the light.

I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry that I hurt you.
I’m sorry if I didn’t listen. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

There’s real power in a genuine apology, but what’s even more valuable is offering it sincerely.

Recently, a friend asked if he should apologize to his son for something much bigger than a simple mistake—an apology that spanned years of missteps. He wanted to share beautiful words that conveyed all the hurt he believed he had caused. “It’s perfect,” I told him, because it truly was. “But don’t forget to say ‘I’m sorry’ too,” I advised, because sometimes, that’s all it takes.

At the end of the day, all a child really wants to hear is an earnest “I love you, and I respect you enough to admit I make mistakes too.”

As parents, we sometimes miss the mark. We mess up, we forget, and we stumble. If we’re fortunate, we learn from these missteps, admit our faults, and grow stronger. It’s perfectly okay for our children to see us—moms and dads—make mistakes. Eventually, they’ll figure it out, and I suspect they’ll love us, not in spite of our failures, but perhaps because we let them see us vulnerable. By acknowledging our mistakes, we also show them how much we care and the effort we put into getting it right in the end.

If you’re looking for more insights on parenting and home insemination, check out our other posts on topics related to fertility and family. You can also visit IVF Babble for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.

In summary, apologizing to our children isn’t just about admitting fault; it’s about showing them we are human, learning alongside them, and growing as a family together.