When I was growing up, I did not imagine myself as a mother.
I imagined a house. I imagined a job I loved. I definitely imagined a husband. But children were not part of the picture I had drawn for my life. It was not because I disliked them. I actually loved children. I babysat for neighbors. I loved their little voices, their tiny hands, even the way babies smelled after a bath. But motherhood was not something I was planning for, praying for, or building my future around.
Then life changed.
An unexpected pregnancy came, and although it was not part of my plan, abortion was never an option for me. I knew then that I was going to be a mother. And somehow, what I had not planned became one of the greatest gifts of my life.
Later, my husband and I welcomed two more children. To my surprise, I loved being pregnant. I loved the feeling of a little life growing inside me. I loved every kick, every turn, every stretch. I even loved the round belly and the weight gain because it reminded me that something sacred was happening inside my body. Each pregnancy felt almost magical to me. I was carrying life, and I loved it.
Now my children are grown. They are adults with their own thoughts, choices, wounds, opinions, strengths, and struggles. And I am deeply grateful that I became a mother. I miss the days when they needed me to wipe away tears, chase away bad dreams, tie shoes, fix snacks, answer questions, and guide them through the little storms of childhood.
But if I am honest, I also look back with some regret.
I know we are not supposed to live in the “could’ve, should’ve, would’ve” of life. I know parents do the best they can with what they know at the time. I know motherhood does not come with perfect instructions. But when children become adults, you sometimes see more clearly where your parenting was strong and where it fell short.
One of the things I wish I had taught my children more intentionally was emotional intelligence.
Some people hear that phrase and immediately roll their eyes. Emotional intelligence can sound like one more modern parenting term, one more soft idea, one more thing people say because they do not want to teach discipline. But that is not what emotional intelligence is.
Emotional intelligence is not letting children do whatever they feel.
It is teaching them that feelings are real, but feelings are not always wise.
It is helping a child learn how to name what they feel without being ruled by what they feel. It is teaching them how to calm down, listen, apologize, wait, forgive, handle disappointment, respect other people’s boundaries, and make decisions without letting anger, fear, sadness, jealousy, or excitement take the steering wheel.
In other words, emotional intelligence is not emotional indulgence.
It is emotional discipleship.
For children, emotional intelligence looks like learning to say, “I am angry,” instead of throwing something across the room. It looks like learning to say, “I feel left out,” instead of becoming cruel. It looks like understanding that sadness does not mean life is over, disappointment does not mean God has abandoned them, and frustration does not give them permission to hurt others.
For adults, emotional intelligence looks like pausing before reacting. It looks like being able to receive correction without collapsing. It looks like having a hard conversation without turning it into a war. It looks like knowing the difference between conviction and shame, between a boundary and bitterness, between discernment and suspicion, between honesty and cruelty.
And many adults are struggling because no one taught them this when they were children.
When a child is not taught how to regulate emotions, that child may grow into an adult who is constantly overwhelmed by them. Decisions become emotional reactions. Relationships become rollercoasters. One moment they are excited, the next they are devastated. One moment they are sure, the next they are regretful. They may make choices in anger and then cry over the consequences. They may confuse urgency with wisdom. They may mistake emotional intensity for truth.
I have seen this up close.
One of my children can sometimes live in full-fledged emotional chaos. Decisions are driven by feelings, and later the regrets are driven by feelings too. When emotions rise, everything rises with them: the volume, the urgency, the assumptions, the fear, the frustration. It becomes an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved.
And as a parent, that is painful to watch.
Because you love your children. You want the best for them. You want them to choose wisely. You want them to stop hurting themselves in the same ways. You want to help, but when they are adults, your voice does not land the same way it did when they were small. They may begin to see you differently. Not as the person who carried them, raised them, sacrificed for them, built a life, paid bills, solved problems, and survived storms. Sometimes they see you as older, needy, outdated, or not quite capable of understanding their world.
Which is almost funny, because many of us are still out here running businesses, leading teams, managing homes, making decisions, solving problems, and carrying responsibilities they do not even see.
But to adult children, parents can become strangely small in their imagination. They forget we were whole people before they ever knew us. They forget we have wisdom not because we read about life, but because we have lived through it.
Still, the harder truth is this: once our children are grown, we cannot go back and parent them again.
We can only love them now with humility, wisdom, boundaries, and prayer.
That is why teaching emotional intelligence early matters so much. A toddler who learns how to calm down becomes a teenager who has tools. A teenager who learns how to process disappointment becomes an adult who does not have to destroy relationships every time life hurts. A child who learns to apologize becomes an adult who can repair what they damage. A child who learns self-control becomes an adult who understands that every feeling does not deserve obedience.
The Bible has always cared about this. Long before emotional intelligence became a phrase, Scripture was already teaching us that the inner life matters.
Proverbs says, “Whoever is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city” (Proverbs 16:32). That is emotional intelligence. It is the ability to rule your spirit instead of being ruled by it.
James tells us to be “quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). That is emotional intelligence too. Listen first. Slow down. Do not let anger become your master.
Galatians lists self-control as fruit of the Spirit, not as a personality trait reserved for calm people. Self-control is something God grows in us. It is spiritual formation. It is maturity. It is part of becoming more like Christ.
So how do we teach it to children?
We begin by helping them name their emotions. Not shame them. Not silence them. Name them. “You are disappointed.” “You feel embarrassed.” “You are angry because you wanted that to go differently.” Naming an emotion helps a child understand that feelings can be observed instead of obeyed.
Then we teach them what to do with those emotions. Take a breath. Step away. Sit with your emotions to understand them. Pray. Use words. Ask for help. Wait before deciding. Tell the truth without attacking. Apologize when wrong. Try again.
We also model it. This is the part that humbles us. Children learn emotional regulation not only by what we say, but by what they see. If we scream every time we are stressed, they learn that stress gives permission to scream. If we withdraw every time we are hurt, they learn that silence is how adults punish people. If we never apologize, they learn that authority does not have to be accountable.
Sometimes the most powerful thing a parent can say is, “I was wrong. I should not have handled it that way. I am sorry.”
That does not weaken your authority.
It teaches your child what maturity looks like.
We should also teach children that emotions are not enemies. God created us with feelings. Jesus wept. Jesus felt compassion. Jesus experienced grief, anguish, anger, and joy. The goal is not to raise children who feel nothing. The goal is to raise children who know what to do with what they feel.
A child who never learns this becomes an adult who may keep looking outside themselves for someone to manage what is happening inside themselves. They may blame everyone else for their reactions. They may expect relationships to absorb their chaos. They may confuse love with emotional rescue.
And that is exhausting for them and for the people who love them.
For parents of grown children, the advice is tender but difficult: do not drown yourself in regret. Bring your regrets to God, learn from them, and ask Him to help you love your adult children wisely now. You can still model emotional intelligence. You can still speak with gentleness. You can still refuse to join the chaos. You can still set boundaries without withdrawing love. You can still pray for God to do what you cannot.
And for parents still raising little ones, start now.
Teach them that feelings matter, but feelings are not lord over them. Teach them that anger can be felt without being obeyed. Teach them that sadness can be honored without becoming identity. Teach them that disappointment is survivable. Teach them that correction is not rejection and that apology is strength. Teach them that self-control is not punishment, it is freedom.
Because emotionally intelligent children do not just become easier children to raise.
They become healthier adults to love.
They become better friends, spouses, parents, coworkers, leaders, and disciples. They become people who can sit with discomfort without exploding, receive truth without crumbling, love others without controlling them, and follow Christ even when their feelings are overwhelming.
And maybe that is what I wish I had understood earlier.
Motherhood is not only about keeping children safe, fed, clothed, educated, and loved. It is also about helping them steward the inner world they will carry for the rest of their lives.
Because one day, they will leave our homes.
But they will take their emotional habits with them.
