Legacy, Love & the Long Vision of Parenting
Parenting with Intention, Part 3: A Conversation with Mary Kate Shepard
If you’re just joining, this is the final piece in a three-part conversation with Mary Kate Shepard about what it means to parent with intention.
In Part 1, we looked at how values take root—in the culture we create at home, the language we choose, and the way we move through daily life.
In Part 2, we turned inward, exploring the emotional core of motherhood: what we carry, what we trust, and how we stay connected to ourselves.
This final part looks forward.
If the first two were rooted in grounding and growth, this one leans into the soul of parenting—the hope we carry, the purpose that pulls us forward, and the delight that makes it all worth it.
By the time we reached this stage of the conversation, I found myself zooming out—less focused on what’s right in front of us and more attuned to what might last.
Mary Kate meets these questions with the same depth and clarity she’s brought throughout. Some answers are light. Some reach further in. But all revolve around the idea of legacy—not as something lofty, but as something richly lived.
She describes parenting the way she approaches cooking—not as something precise or rigid, but as something adaptive and responsive: “You season as you go.” And I couldn’t agree more. Parenting well isn’t a fixed formula. It’s something we adjust in real time. We test and taste and try again. Always keeping in mind that what works—the flavor and rhythm—is different for every family, and each member within it.
What Mary Kate shares here feels both deeply personal and quietly universal. It reminded us that parenting with intention isn’t just about raising kids we’re proud of—it’s about creating something steady and hopeful in a world that deeply needs both.
And her answer to the last question is my favorite of them all.
If you were writing an actual recipe for parenting with intention, what would be the ingredients, the steps, the notes in the margins?
Gosh, I LOVE this parallel! You’re marrying my love of cooking with my passion for parenthood. And I have to preface with this: I hate recipes. Yep. It’s why I fancy myself a cook and not a baker. I say cooking is for artists and baking is for scientists. I always laugh when someone compliments my food and asks for the recipe because I don’t follow them. I can tell you the ingredients I used and their approximate amounts, but the truth is, I taste as I go and adjust seasonings as needed. It’s dynamic. It rarely turns out how I thought it initially would and often turns out better. Sometimes I trash the whole thing and declare it FUBAR and start over (as my husband tries to intercept it on the way to or even sometimes after it reaches the garbage can…he doesn’t mind eating the mistakes).
All of these things can be said for my parenting, too. I can tell you my ingredients and approximate amounts of each. I can tell you the steps and how I danced around my kitchen. But you’re going to use a different brand of ingredients. Your kitchen is equipped with different tools. Your oven is calibrated differently. You could only find “x” ingredient at the grocery store, so you have to substitute that. In that same way, you have different kids with different needs, abilities, and talents. Your family may have different priorities and different values. You come from a different background.
So rather than giving you a recipe, I’m going to give you some qualities I think are imperative for cooking and parenting with intention.
The truth is, cooking is successful when the chef is present and adaptable. If something isn’t working, they don’t waste precious time or ingredients; they pivot. They learn from past foibles or failures of those around them. They don’t stop learning. They take on progressively more complex dishes. In much the same way, our kids become more complex as they grow and develop as individuals.
As the famous Ina Garten says, “Season as you go, rather than at the end. That way, your food has flavor rather than just being salty.” In the same way, parenting with intention means being present within each stage. Consistently “seasoning” your kids with encouragement, love, trust, repair, respect, fun, sturdiness in each age and stage infuses those flavors into our kids’ identities. Those things can’t just be added as you launch your child into adulthood.
Parenting well is deeply personal, very stylistic, and looks somewhat different for everyone. And I believe a very important takeaway here: you can make the most delectable beef bourguignon that would bring Julia Child to tears, and someone will still look at you and say, “I’m a vegetarian.”
What do you hope your parenting is repairing in the world?
I hope I’m a part of a like-minded generation of parents who see the importance of raising emotionally resilient kids who don’t expect others to pander to their feelings or offenses. I want to see a generation of intrinsically motivated individuals who turn inward to their value system rather than external validation. I hope to see people who seek out opportunities to talk to others with whom they disagree and share dialogue respectfully. I expect them to walk away from those conversations with a handshake or a hug and the acceptance of, “ I still may fundamentally disagree with that person, but I understand why they are walking that path.” I want them to find common ground with others, even if it’s just at the most basic, “Hey, we’re both humans” level. I hope they approach people with charitable interpretations. Our world desperately needs more of that right now.
If your kids become parents one day, what’s something you hope they carry forward—and something you hope they change?
I guess I’d first answer that by saying if I can pinpoint something I hope they change, I damn well better be focusing my efforts on changing that myself right now. I suppose I hope they carry forward emotional regulation. Regulating my emotions is something I work at, and it doesn’t come naturally to me. So as far as something I would change…I guess I hope it comes more naturally to them because of the work I’m doing now. While I work at managing and recovering from stress, I hope they’re just more authentically resilient.
In that same vein, I hope my little boys are seeing vulnerability with a trusted partner as a strength rather than a weakness. My husband hasn’t always been someone who communicated his thoughts and feelings well. We had to go through a fair bit of hell and a threat of separation to get there. But man, has he made strides in this arena. He likes to say I’ve drawn this out of him, but the effort has been all his own.
What part of your parenting would surprise your younger self the most?
That I would need to work on so many things internally first. And that I’m still working on things internally while I parent them. What a gift your community is to parents and parents-to-be, Erin. I only wish I could have had this five years prior to becoming a parent to start changing some of the habits and mindsets I’ve had in order to show up as the parent I hope to be.
I remember when I was pregnant with my oldest, my friend sent me a book called “Easy to Love, Difficult to Discipline” by Dr. Becky Bailey. So many of the principles resonated with me. Granted, her approach of conscious discipline was mainly intended for teachers, but the application to parenthood is undeniable. I always thought you just had authoritarian, authoritative, and permissive parenting. I just figured I’d lean into authoritative and the rest would unfold naturally. No. Parenting is so nuanced, and so much of our baggage is put on our kids. Dr. Bailey’s first chapter of that book was transformative for me. It focused solely on practicing self-discipline. Because she knows children don’t do what we say, they do what we do.
I’m always going to be a work in progress, but I can honestly say Kyle and I have both worked to change for the better and try to be the people we want our children to emulate. So far, that’s also been my most challenging part of parenting because it requires taking a good, hard, humble look at my ugliest parts and working my ass off to rewrite my inherent scripts to be better.
When you imagine your children as adults moving through the world, what do you most hope they’re contributing to the spaces they enter?
I hope they enter spaces reflecting back the love they have been given, both for others and for themselves. I’d love to raise them to really know themselves inside and out because there’s a confidence that comes with that. We all know someone who carries themselves as totally self-assured. Not cocky, but someone who truly stands firm in their values. They have rock-solid standards for themselves. They were the kids in high school who didn’t drink at a party: not because they were afraid of getting in trouble, but simply because they were convicted by something powerfully intrinsic. An adult who stands steady in their beliefs is a person who cannot be shaken or influenced by people or circumstances that work to bring them down. I think that comes from true attachment to a parent from a young age. Children who feel safe are empowered to take risks safely. They know if they have a safety net, they can go a little further than last time. I really think that’s how you build a child’s confidence and self-esteem: allowing them to prove to themselves that they are capable of more than they thought.
I think there’s something really lovely about radiating that kind of energy in the world. Those people are aspirational, resilient, and generally positive. Who doesn’t want to know, work with, or befriend someone like that?
What feels sacred to you right now in how you live, love, or protect your family?
I think preserving innocence has become a big focus lately. There is such a thing as growing up too quickly, and societally, I believe it’s never happened at an earlier age than it does now. Our kids have so much of the world, literally at their fingertips these days. But with the surge of AI, so much of it isn’t real. Our own eyes deceive us. That’s hard enough for adults to grapple with, but can you imagine the impact on a developing mind? I see it as a very important duty to be a gatekeeper for what my kids consume. I certainly can’t control everything, and that’s why we encourage our kids through trust and openness to come to us with questions. But another large reason I homeschool is protecting that for them. Whether it’s the influx of mature themes, violence, language, or simply the state of world affairs…I just want them to be kids and enjoy childhood. It’s such a precious window to be able to view the world with awe and wonder. I truly want their childhoods to be filled with all things good and beautiful.
What do you wish more parents knew—but rarely gets said out loud?
That you’re not a weak parent for apologizing to your kid. Your kid is going to figure out that you’re a flawed human at some point. You’re going to do a lot less damage if they see that early on. In fact, I’d argue that you’re going to do a lot of good if they see that early on. As adults and parents, we often think that admitting fault to our children means we lose credibility or authority. Maybe they won’t take us seriously if we own up to mistakes, especially if they were made regarding our parenting. I have personally found quite the opposite effect. I’ve watched my kids’ tension melt when I apologize. By humbling myself, they feel safer to be vulnerable with me.
When you think about it in a different context, how would you feel if your boss angrily accused you of dropping the ball on a project in front of other coworkers? Humiliated? Fearful of losing your job? Misunderstood? Why would we expect our kids to feel any other way? Now, what if they approached you later privately and said, “Hey, I was angry earlier. I was worried about the loss of time and resources on this project. I should not have raised my voice, and certainly shouldn’t have discussed that in front of others. Next time I’ll approach you in a professional manner, privately and calmly, so we can figure out how to resolve the matter.” Think about the way that would impact you as an employee. Would you be sitting there thinking, “See! My boss thinks I didn’t do anything wrong! I can do that again without consequences.” No. You’d probably be thinking, “My boss is approachable. Next time I get in a bind, I’ll go straight to him to see if we can brainstorm some ways to turn the issue around.”
Kids feel all the feelings we do. They just don’t have the capability to manage them. Watching us successfully manage our anger, our mistakes…that isn’t weakness. Quite the contrary. We can lead with love. If my kid hits another kid for taking their toy, they may come in screaming and crying. I could yell at them for hitting. I could send them to their room. What does that teach them? Not to come to me when they need help managing a difficult social situation. I don’t know any parents who say, “Gosh, I hope my kids don’t come to me when they’re having difficulty with peers as teenagers.”
I’m going to hug my kid. Not as a reward for hitting, but as a way of saying, “I’m here with you in this moment. I see your frustration and your shame, and I am going to help you work through it because I know that your identity is not your behavior.” And I’m not going to tell them what they did was ok. I mean, straight up, I’m going to tell them what they did was wrong. But I’m going to talk about how we can solve this issue currently and differently in the future. And I’m going to do that about a hundred times again until the synapses are tethered. Because guess what? One day, you’ll be sitting in the park and someone will reach for your kid’s toy. And you’ll watch your child look at them and say, “I am playing with that. You can have a turn when I’m done.” And you’ll realize your discipline was a result of discipleship, not punishment.
What’s something your kids do right now that makes you feel quietly hopeful about the future? Something that makes you pause and think, “They’re going to be okay.”
My kids are developing pretty solid gut instincts. They are starting to trust their little intuitions. They apologize with genuine contrition when they feel sorry, not with an empty sentiment because an adult told them to. I’ve had to really sit in discomfort with that because societal expectations demand immediacy. The whole transactional “you owe an apology” is something I’m trying very hard to avoid. As a serial apologist for things I didn’t necessarily need to own, I really want to instill authenticity when it comes to taking responsibility and repairing with others.
They join in activities when they feel ready, not because they’re being pressured to do so by time constraints or peer influences. Of course, there are times when they simply have to do things for safety or health purposes, but there are so many other situations where I want them to practice those skills. If they go to a party and are nervous to join or exhibit “shy” behaviors, I really try to honor that in them. I tell them, “I know you can do it, but I’ll wait with you because you’ll know when you’re ready to join.” I can almost see their little wheels turning and telling themselves something along the lines of “Well, if Mom trusts my feeling on this, I can trust this feeling in myself. So maybe if Mom believes I can do it, I can believe that too.”
Maybe it feels small to them and big to me, but pushing through my own anxiety and trying not to override their gut instinct has been a big area of focus. I’ve seen them join in the last 5 minutes of a party and have a blast. Kyle and I went through several swim lessons where we would have to get in the pool with our son or sit on the side with him. But when he finally joined, he was all in.
If parenting came with a soundtrack, what would be on yours?
The soundtrack of parenting.
I think of the dark solitude in middle of the night cries, overlaid by “shushes” and percussive baby butt-pats that gradually taper down to rhythmic breathing. A worship song.
I think about watching them run around the yard on a warm summer evening, ice jingling in a glass, and steaks sizzling on the grill. The squeak of their swings keeping a cadence among their joyful giggles. The country song.
I think of the sounds of a toddler mid-tantrum, drumming their feet against the floor and erupting in a crescendo of screams and ragged inhales that shake every cell of my body, leaving us both sweaty and wiped afterwards. You guessed it: the metal song. (Also, why is this song always 45 minutes long?)
I think of my child’s refusal to join the others in gymnastics class. Clinging to my leg as the background noise of more “agreeable” kids echoes in the gym. My internal discomfort writing anxious lyrics in my head as I try to balance it with box breaths and a “You’ll know when you’re ready” that I try my best to believe myself. And just when I think the song is about to end, my kid hits me with a powerful, “I’m ready to go in now,” and I throw a figurative fist in the air. A rock hit fit for the Billboard charts.
I think of conducting a homeschool day: balancing a baby in the sling, a whistling tea kettle, and a pencil slammed down in frustration. Through quiet tears and an “I can’t do it, Mom,” we gradually find the rhythm again, and harmony is restored. A classical piece.
I think of a walk in the woods, leaves crunching beneath feet, and jackets rustling as I feel a warm little hand slip into mine. They look up at you with eyes wide with admiration, saying, “This is my favorite day.” My love song.
Anyone looking to become a parent should know: an eclectic taste in music is key.
Erin, the conductor, pitched just the right questions during Parts 1, 2, and 3, and Mary Kate, the 1st chair parent, responded with the perfect tune. The reading audience applauded after many heartfelt sequences, is sorry the music stopped, and now they are on their feet. "Bravo, Bravo, and Bravo!" My pressing question, "When's the next concert?"
❤️❤️❤️