Often I consider myself more a purveyor of the underbelly of parenting than anything else.
I tend to laugh hardest at the stories of the fiascos, the narrowly avoided disasters, the pea up the nose incidents and the time they accidentally left the baby behind etc etc.
But just for once I'm going to be serious.
Just for once I want to say, in all earnestness, that I am lucky to know some amazing mothers and fathers, some of them readers of this little blog.
I know mothers who pour creativity into their kids, they have 'useful' boxes, craft boxes, cereal boxes become robots or ovens or who knows what.
I know mothers who convene music groups, percussion groups, who spend hours every day playing music with their kids, singing, drumming, bell ringing.
I've met people who have built chook houses in their backyards not just for the joy of the fresh eggs but also to share the whole chickens laying in a coop, needing to be fed and looked after, where eggs come from stories with their kids.
I have a very good friend whose parenting I respect enormously but cannot emulate, and she has the most polite children I've ever met.
I know a Dad who just sweats on getting home on Fridays to hang out with his boys all weekend, he takes them camping, down to the beach, keeps them occupied and happy all weekend. That's his downtime.
But it's funny you know, nobody you ever talk to thinks that they're particularly good parents. Well at least not the people I talk to. Mostly they're plagued with doubt and have a sense that they're making it up and stumbling along.
Here's a photo of my favourite parents, ones who perhaps did it the hard way (four all at once: the quad story to follow tomorrow.)
They made childhood wonderful.
Tell a mum or a dad you know how fantastic they are and what a great job they're doing. It's a long time till their kids grow up and start a blog and tell them what fabulous parents they are.