Top Tip #20: Keep Returning

There’s something I’ve been reflecting on a lot lately.

Because we’re now sitting roughly in the middle of this journey through the blog series together.

And somehow…

that feels fitting.

Because parenting rarely moves in straight lines.

We revisit the same themes.

The same conversations.

The same worries.

The same questions.

Again and again.

Only each time, our children are a little older.

And so are we.

A few years ago, your child asked where babies come from.

You gave a simple answer and thought:

“Okay… we’ve covered that.”

Then later came:

“How does the baby actually get out?”

Then:

“What’s puberty?”

And after that:

“What if someone wants to kiss you and you don’t want to?”

Years later, the questions may sound completely different again.

“How do you know if someone is the right person for you?”

“What makes a relationship healthy?”

“How do you know if you’re ready to become a parent?”

And one day…

you may find yourself becoming a grandparent, like me.

And honestly, it has been one of the most wonderful seasons of my life.

Watching my daughter become such a beautiful mother herself has been incredibly special too.

Seeing the way she answers questions, navigates challenges and parents her own children in today’s world often makes me stop and smile.

And sometimes I look at her and think:

“How is this possible?”

It only feels like yesterday that she was the toddler asking me endless questions herself.

And now here she is…

guiding little people through their own spirals of growth, learning and becoming.

Life moves so quickly and the conversations never really end.

They simply deepen.

Shift.

Return in new forms.

And perhaps that’s one of the most beautiful things about being human.

We keep circling back to each other as we grow.

And underneath so many of our questions across life…

we are often trying to make sense of where we fit into the age and stage we find ourselves in.

As children.

As teenagers.

As partners.

As parents.

As grandparents.

As ageing adults.

And often, what helps us make sense of it all…

is having someone beside us while we do.

For a long time, I used to think parenting conversations were meant to be “covered.”

One talk.

One explanation.

One moment where you finally say the right thing.

And then…

move on.

But that’s not how children grow.

And honestly…

it’s not really how humans grow either.

Children revisit ideas because their understanding keeps changing.

The same topic can mean something completely different at:

• five
• ten
• fifteen
• twenty-five

Children don’t learn, grow or connect in straight lines… and neither do we.

The conversations may sound similar…

but the depth changes.

And so do we.

This is what I think of as the spiral.

Not going backwards.

Not repeating in circles.

Returning with deeper understanding each time.

And perhaps this was always the deeper purpose behind the conversations we’ve been exploring together.

Perhaps the goal was never simply to avoid slamming the door.

It was to build relationships strong enough that our children always know they can come back and knock again.

And I think this matters because many parents quietly carry the pressure that they are supposed to have the right response immediately.

The right timing.

The right explanation.

But the spiral reminds us:

parenting is not built in one conversation.

It is built slowly.

Relationally.

Over time.

And perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can offer our children is not perfection…

but our willingness to stay open and to keep returning as time moves forward.

To remain someone they can come back to.

Again and again.

At five.

At fifteen.

At twenty-five.

And perhaps even when they have children of their own one day.

As I’ve reflected more deeply on this idea of the spiral, I’ve realised something else too.

The spiral doesn’t just exist in parenting.

It exists across the lifespan.

Toward the end of my mother’s life, dementia slowly changed the way she experienced the world.

And I found myself having the same conversations with her again and again.

The same questions.

The same reassurances.

The same stories.

Often she would return to childhood memories.

Her childhood home.

The holiday house.

Living in Tonga.

Stories she had told many times before.

And always, her deep love of nature.

In her final days, she spent hours gently patting her little dog beside her.

Except…

it wasn’t really a dog anymore.

It was a small stuffed toy.

And somehow that moment has stayed with me.

Because underneath the confusion and repetition was something deeply human:

the need for comfort

the need for familiarity

the need for connection

The need to still feel safe in the world.

And one day it struck me…

perhaps across our lives, human beings keep returning to the people, places, stories and relationships that help us remember who we are.

And strangely, as my mother’s world became smaller through dementia…

parts of my own world opened up too.

Her stories made me revisit memories I hadn’t thought about in years.

Some beautiful.

Some painful.

Moments from childhood.

Family dynamics.

Old hurts.

Old love.

And as she continued changing through this final stage of life, I realised something else too:

she was still becoming.

Still changing.

Still teaching me things.

Still shaping who I was becoming too.

Her vulnerability made me see her differently.

And perhaps, if I’m honest…

it made me see myself differently too.

There was grief in that season.

And perhaps there still is. Because some losses don’t leave us. They simply become part of who we are.

Grief also brought perspective.

A deeper understanding of what really matters.

Forgiveness in some places.

Gratitude in others.

Not because everything was perfect.

And I know this won’t be everyone’s experience.

But because life has a way of softening and reshaping us through the relationships that matter most.

And perhaps this is part of the spiral too.

Not just in parenting…

but in the way many of us make sense of life itself.

This is something I’ve noticed in life.

Over time, our beliefs, values and understanding of the world often continue evolving too.

Sometimes certainty softens.

Questions become bigger.

Life becomes more complex and more human.

And strangely, while life often becomes more layered and complicated as we grow…

I think many of us begin longing for simplicity more than ever.

Less performance.

Less pressure.

Less pretending.

And more:

• connection
• honesty
• presence
• compassion
• belonging

As I’ve grown older and listened more deeply to people’s stories, I feel like the table keeps becoming more expansive and inclusive.

Because underneath all our different backgrounds, beliefs, fears, hopes and experiences…

we are often not as different as we think we are.

We are human beings trying to make sense of life.

Trying to love and be loved.

Trying to work out where we fit.

Trying to feel safe, connected and understood.

And perhaps the spiral keeps teaching us that too.

And while faith, spirituality and values can remain deeply important across the lifespan…

the way we hold them may change as we grow, experience loss, love deeply, raise children and move through different seasons of life.

I know that has certainly been true for me.

In some ways, life has made me less certain about many things.

But perhaps more aware of what matters most.

Connection.

Compassion.

Forgiveness.

Generosity.

Gratitude.

Relationships.

Presence.

Because as vulnerability increases and losses accumulate across life…

achievement often matters differently.

And companionship, connection and being deeply known can begin feeling far more precious than certainty or performance.

I think this is why the spiral matters so much in parenting.

Because when we understand that growth is layered, relational and ongoing…

we stop expecting ourselves and our children to have everything figured out immediately.

Especially during the preteen and teenage years.

Because these are often the years where parents quietly begin wondering:

“Am I losing my child?”

The questions change.

The moods change.

The openness changes.

And sometimes, if we’re honest, we panic a little.

We want certainty.

Control.

Reassurance that they’ll be okay.

But the spiral reminds us:

connection is rarely built through control.

It is built through relationship.

Through returning.

Repairing.

Listening again.

Trying again.

And perhaps most importantly…

staying present while our children work out who they are becoming.