There’s a myth that kids will somehow transform you into a better version of yourself. The truth is, kids don’t change you. They expose you. Your nervous system, your regulation, your energy — it all becomes the blueprint they inherit.
If you want a preview of how your energy transmits, get a dog first. I've advised this to anyone thinking about having kids. Dogs are practice kids. They don’t speak your language, but they read your state. They only speak the universal language that is energy, a language that you need to master before the real thing. They sync to your nervous system like Bluetooth. Calm? They settle. Anxious? They pace, bark, destroy. You don’t get to mask it. You don’t get to talk your way out of it. Your energy is the entire conversation.
And here’s the paradox: it’s easier to see in a dog because your verbal communication is limited. Children are master mirrors, but they take longer to reflect your patterns back. A dog will show you instantly. If you can’t connect with your dog — if the relationship feels like a constant power struggle — it’s not because the dog is broken. It’s because you’re broadcasting chaos. Like children, dogs need a true leader. They need a Head Regulator. And like I've said before, you can't fake this. Energy never lies.
That’s your progress report.
Because a child won’t just mirror your state, they’ll absorb it as their baseline. They’ll grow up carrying your anxiety, your unprocessed stress, your lack of boundaries, and they won’t know why. You can’t teach calm if you’ve never practiced it. You can’t model regulation if you’re constantly running on fumes. You don't need to learn how to parent, you simply need to learn how to be.

So if you’re thinking of kids, start with a dog. It's funny when I think back on my past three dogs, all placed in my life at different decades. My dog in my twenties was a prissy little thing. The only one of the three that enjoyed grooming. She was very human, ate at the table with silverware human. My dog in my thirties was the opposite. She was very dog, squirrel! I tried to make her pretty (because she had a serious underbite), but she insisted on constantly rolling in dirt. Although we were very much connected, she had a longer leash (figuratively, because I hardly leash my dogs). She was miss independent, little miss do whatever I want. And then there's Bunny. She's the clingiest dog ever. I've never left her sight since coming into each other's life. She's resilient, adaptable and just the sweetest thing. She's so chill, except when she's aggressively territorial to potential threats (ie. mailman) but thank goodness no one takes her seriously (or even understand what she's doing) because she's too cute. Reflecting on my past decades through the lens of my dogs, I have to admit they were all accurate mirrors. Its been said, dogs even look like their human counterparts! I've had the deepest bonds with all my dogs. And they each show me different things about myself. Not just because they occupied different periods of my life, but because they are all different. And each relationship may be the same strength, but in different ways. And like kids, you'll love them differently but equally.
Take note of what it’s like when your presence alone dictates the vibe of the room. Notice whether you lead with tension or with trust. A dog will surely tell you. And if you can't understand underlying dynamics, know that parenting a child is exponentially more difficult.
If you struggle, good. That struggle is the invitation. It means there’s work to do on you before there’s work to do on them. A dog gives you instant feedback and, if you’re willing, a chance to rewire your nervous system before someone else’s entire childhood is built on it.
Parenting isn’t about managing little people. It’s really about managing yourself. And nothing will show you that faster — or more honestly — than the four-legged mirror at the end of your leash.

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