What Being a Parent Has Taught Me about Being a Childcare Provider.

No family is the same.

Childcare is not a one-size-fits-all solution. As a parent, I value being actively engaged in my child’s upbringing while also embracing the things that bring me joy—like running, attending musicals, spending time with my sisters and partner, and pursuing work that I enjoy. When I looked for a care community, I wanted a space that allowed me to be present with my children whenever possible while also giving me the confidence and peace of mind that they were genuinely cared for when I couldn’t be there.

As a childcare provider, I’ve found that genuinely caring for children comes naturally. At first, it was challenging—caring deeply takes effort, and like any muscle, it can experience fatigue. Over time, I’ve developed a better awareness of what that fatigue looks like and how it carries over from other areas of my life into my role as a caregiver. Despite the challenges, I care every day, and I care deeply. The way I show that care has evolved as I’ve learned to balance empathy with self-awareness.

As a parent, I am better at conflict because I am a care provider.

I have learned—time and time again—that managing conflict begins with a deep breath. As a care provider, I approach emotional moments with calm and preparation, a stark contrast to the intensity I often feel as a parent. As a parent, I am my children’s safe space for their most unfiltered feelings, and while I am deeply grateful for that role, gratitude doesn’t always guide my responses. Knowing I am their safe space doesn’t erase the weight of responsibility or the constant questioning about whether I’m responding “the right way.”

As a care provider, I feel steady and grounded. This role has deepened my understanding as a parent, teaching me how to support my children with consistent and reliable practices. I’ve also sought help regularly, recognizing that effective caregiving requires a multifaceted response. The repeated exposure to conflict in its many forms has refined my skills and, most importantly, made me a better parent.

These experiences have humbled me, reminding me to extend to others the grace I’ve often withheld from myself. We are not meant to be perfect—we are meant to be human. By embracing our imperfections, we teach our children an invaluable lesson: being human means encountering conflict, and navigating it with confidence and grace is how we grow.

How do I support their big feelings? Or even my own?

Sharing space with my children has required constant adaptation to their unique communication patterns and emotional responses. There have been moments when I’ve felt the deep, heart sinking regret of reacting in a way that didn’t align with the parent I want to be. In those moments, I promise myself I’ll change—and I do—but change comes slowly. Establishing new rhythms takes time and patience.

As a parent and as a care provider, I have learned to include our children in that process of growth. I share with them what I feel I could have done better and what didn’t sit right with me. Through this honesty and transparency, we model emotional intelligence and nurture stronger relationships. The trust and respect we cultivate in these moments empower our children to navigate their own emotions with humility and openness. Together, we create space to fully experience our feelings—individually and as a unit.

Should I intervene or let them figure this one out?

At this point, I could not tell you if I learned this lesson as a parent or as a care provider. This delicate balance shifts constantly, minute by minute. For younger children, guidance often involves helping them navigate boundaries, like learning to share or respecting a peer’s personal space. For older children, it’s about ensuring they honor shared spaces and rules while encouraging them to express themselves within those boundaries. While independent play or paired activities usually require less intervention, group interactions often demand more active guidance, regardless of the children’s ages. The key is maintaining proximity and awareness—being present enough to step in when necessary while giving children the freedom to explore on their own.

What we’ve learned is that over-communicating shared rules and expectations is far less harmful than under-communicating them. This is a lesson I’ve also had to learn in my relationships—with my sisters, my life partner, my business partner, and beyond. When everyone in a community feels confident in the shared expectations, they’re freer to express their individuality within the safety of those boundaries.

The same holds true for children—when they understand and trust the framework, they feel more comfortable exploring their independence. Striking this balance creates a community where individuality and mutual respect coexist, fostering growth and allowing both children and adults to thrive.