How Values Take Root in the Rituals of Daily Life

Parenting with Intention, Part 1: A Conversation with Mary Kate Shepard

©Jill Wellington via Canva

Parenting with intention often means doing the quiet, invisible work—the kind that doesn’t show up in photos or checklists, but shapes everything underneath.

That’s what first drew me to this conversation—and to

Mary Kate Shepard

.

I first learned of Mary Kate through the writing of her husband,

Kyle Shepard

¹—a voice I’ve long respected and now call a friend. But it was the glimpses of Mary Kate in Kyle’s stories that quickly caught my attention: the quiet rituals, the deliberate language, the way she seemed to move through motherhood with both steadiness and care. I wanted to know more.

And what began as a handful of questions turned into a wide-ranging, three-part exchange about intentionality—not just toward our children, but toward ourselves. Because the most lasting impact, especially on our children, begins inward.

Mary Kate embodies this in a way that’s both rare and generous. Her groundedness as a mother, her clarity in the face of complexity, her refusal to rush what’s messy—it doesn’t just resonate. It reorients. She challenges me to be more deliberate in how I live, lead, and love. She once called me a “veteran,” but I think she has it backward. She’s practicing, with vast insight, what I was only beginning to understand when my kids were small.

This first part of the series focuses on the foundation of family life: the values we hold, the tone we set, and the everyday practices that shape our homes over time—not by managing appearances or mastering every moment, but by being attuned to what’s worth building.

If parenting with intention has ever felt abstract or lonely or out of reach, I know this conversation will offer something steady to hold onto. Mary Kate doesn’t offer easy answers—but like her husband’s work, what she shares is deeply practical, quietly radical, and rooted in what truly matters. You’ll walk away not just inspired, but motivated to live it out.

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To start, I’d love to hear a bit more about your life before this current season of full-time parenting. What shaped you—professionally, creatively—before becoming a mother, and what parts of that life still feel present, and what’s shifted?

First of all, thanks for asking that. I’ve always been a bit of a nurturer. I am the second-oldest of six kids, and I grew up loving to take care of my younger siblings. My parents each came from families of six kids as well, so family gatherings always meant tons of little kids running around. From a young age, I remember my grandmother and other family members saying, “Mary Kate has such a knack for wrangling all the kids together and focusing them on a game or task. She would make a great teacher one day.” Well, whether true or not, that self-fulfilling prophecy pushed me to pursue elementary education.

After my first year of undergrad, I realized the field of education was going in a direction I didn’t like. My introduction to Special Education was made by a professor who specialized in speech-language pathology. One day after class, I asked him if I could meet and discuss speech pathology because I was intrigued. We met for coffee the next day, and by the end of that meeting, I was requesting transcripts to transfer to a college with a program for communication disorders. I was hooked.

The depth and breadth of the field provided so many opportunities, and working one-on-one with kids and families to promote communication skills was incredibly fulfilling. One of the biggest things I learned was that communication isn’t just verbal language. Our gestures, facial expressions, and tone of voice—those supra-linguistics—are just as vital to meaning. Although I’m not currently practicing in the field, that understanding has served me not just professionally, but personally in all relationships.

If your home had a mission statement, even an informal or evolving one, what would it be?

Our mission statement… I could swirl around in that question all day. So many books I’ve read on parenting have mentioned the benefits of mission statements, and I’ve loved the idea of developing one, but I feel like it’d be a novel.

If I had to limit myself (and I do), I’d say this: Our family is committed to connection, trust, and resilience.

Connection requires intentionality. It means putting relationships above anything else, and it starves without honest communication. Fostering connection at this age is a bit of a balancing act with four kids. We have found that individual dates with the kids have been a very special way to maintain that closeness. Whether it’s a sleepover with Mom or a lunch and bookstore date with Dad, they have all looked forward to uninterrupted time to be themselves and command our attention. I hope we can keep these up because they feel important. One of the big reasons I homeschool is that I just want to be around the kids to watch them learn and grow. I love the dynamic we’ve developed in our homeschool rhythm. I really admire Kyle’s commitment to connecting with our kids. He will never turn down an opportunity to read the kids a book, go on a bike ride, or play in the yard. He incorporates them into errands to the store or his activities, like jiu-jitsu. I let them pull up a stool and cook with me or just invite them in for a snuggle on the couch in the morning. Between his boundless energy and willingness to drop other obligations for them and my commitment to their emotional well-being and learning, I really hope one day they look back and say, “Our parents really liked to be around us.” Because we do!

Trust is earned. It’s sacred. It’s easily lost and deeply protected. It means we keep each other’s confidence (unless it’s a safety issue), we don’t condemn for truthfulness (regardless of how it makes us feel), and we hold each other accountable. As parents, we listen to their little things in the hope that they come to us with their big things. If we do this right, our kids will come to us when they mess up big time because they will trust that we will be solution-focused rather than behavior-focused. That’s not to say we won’t experience our own feelings of distress or disappointment, but they’ll be able to trust that we can manage that and get on their team. We honor their willingness to share their vulnerability and try our best to listen without judgment.

Resilience means they can manage and overcome any and all obstacles, first through their feelings and then through their actions. Being a speech pathologist, I love a good vocabulary word. What we call things is important. Biblically, God told Adam to name all the plants and animals, and he would have dominion over them. Naming has power. In that vein, naming our feelings gives us control and ownership over them. I think it’s so important for our kids to first name their feelings and then have an action plan to manage them. For example: “I’m feeling embarrassed. My chest feels tight, my cheeks feel hot, and I want to run away. I can breathe down the chest tightness. I can put my hands to my cheeks to help regulate my temperature. I can close my eyes and tell myself that I am safe in my body and I don’t have to run. Now that I’m calm, I can think. Now that I can think, I can act.” Resilience isn’t stifling, pushing downward emotion. It’s a kinetic, pushing forward motion.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what we borrow from the past and what we leave behind. Is there anything from your own childhood or upbringing that you’ve carried into how you parent now—and anything you’ve consciously chosen to do differently?

I’m blessed to have been raised by two wonderful parents who I can genuinely say were ahead of their time when it came to raising kids. They were really, very good at it. And they raised six kids who have all successfully launched into the world. I can honestly say that growing up, I never witnessed my parents disagreeing or fighting. As a result, I never felt like my childhood or home was unstable or unsafe. It kept my standards high when choosing a partner: possibly too high. I definitely choose to borrow aspects of this, while altering it a bit to honor what I’ve learned from my own relationship experiences. When it comes to arguments in front of my kids, I’m a little more inclined to let them bear witness to my disagreements with Kyle because I want them to watch our conflict resolution. However, I’m only open to that because Kyle and I have a super healthy way of resolving most disagreements. If things ever felt heated, I’d definitely err on the side of my parents’ method of hashing that out privately.

What’s something you’ve learned to protect in your home—an atmosphere, a rhythm, a way of being together?

Our dinner table is sacred. We just replaced our table set, and this thought occurred to me. It was the first furniture item Kyle and I bought together when we lived in North Carolina. We spent date nights getting to know each other and falling in love through home-cooked meals and deep discussions about life. We saved our marriage at that table, reading devotions together after we miscarried our first baby and emotionally fell apart. We fed each of our babies their first bites of food at that table, agonizing over “Are we doing this right?”. That table held the beginning years of our homeschooling journey, with tea and cookies as both a reward for our triumphs and a balm to soothe our failures and frustrating moments. It’s where we learn, connect, and are free to practice any and all skills without judgment. We may be bogged down in 100 activities, but our Sunday evenings will be spent around the table having “fancy family dinner” with candles lit and soft instrumental music playing in the background. Right now, it’s laughing at Daddy’s bad table manners, jello fights, and innocent wishes when they blow out the candles way before dinner ends. Maybe when they’re teenagers, it’ll be an opportunity to bring up a tricky situation for which they need support. And maybe one day, my young adult kids will be in their sparsely furnished first apartments, embarking on some big new adventure. And maybe as they stop to nourish their bodies, they’ll light a candle and put on a calm playlist and feel safe and loved, wherever they are. Maybe this will be the rhythm that nourishes their soul.

I love how you speak about Kyle, and the stories Kyle shares about you in his writing. I’m curious how the two of you stay aligned as things shift and stretch? How do you stay connected—or reconnect—when it comes to your vision for the family?

Constant communication, but a definite sense of continuity and consistency. As the kids grow, situations change, but our approach will always be from a place that is focused on honoring our values. If things ever feel out of alignment with our values or beliefs, we try really hard to come together from a place of being on the same team. If I’m struggling with something in how I’m reacting or responding to the kids, I know I can go to him and talk about it. Or, he may even come to me and talk about it first.

Now, here’s the key. I found a truly kindhearted person in Kyle. He never lets me sit in shame. He’s disarming, approachable, and asks the right questions devoid of any judgment or condemnation. Rather, he knows my heart. He’s always charitable because he knows my intentions are pure. He knows that I see parenting as a calling and vocation. If I’m behaving outside of our values, he immediately clocks that I’m struggling with something internally and offers unconditional support. That immediacy to see the goodness in me is the first step in me seeing my own worth again. He’s told me before, “Moms are the heart of the family. You are the heart of our home. If the mom falls apart, the family falls apart.” That may seem like a lot of pressure, and it definitely could be if I didn’t have such a strong partner. But I think it speaks to the importance of being sturdy in my household. Having a teammate who values you and holds you in such high esteem is a gift and a privilege that I certainly do not take lightly. He is an incredibly involved parent, but he honors the fact that my intuition with the kids is deeper and different. The fact that he trusts that in me, and continues to (kindly) call me out if I need it…and I do the same with him? That’s how we stay on the same team.

What’s something small you do for your kids right now that might not be obvious to others, but you’re really committed to?

Can I tell you something big and something small?

My big thing is repair. I have come to believe it is super important to repair with my kids when I mess up. If I lose my temper or assume the worst in my kids’ actions or intentions and then am proven wrong, it matters deeply to me to immediately go to that kid. I explicitly state what objectively happened. If they’re old enough to articulate their feelings, I ask them how my actions made them feel. If they’re still developing that vocabulary, I might say, “That probably felt pretty scary/frustrating/embarrassing.” Then I’ll apologize and tell them what I hope to do better next time.

I think it’s important for my kids to understand that I’m human and fallible, but I’m actively working on my shortcomings and can still be sturdy enough to take ownership of my behavior and keep them safe. I want them to take that with them in all relationships: friends, coworkers, family members, and partners. I also want them to expect that from others, especially when it comes to choosing a partner.

One small thing I’ve done is start asking my kids what they think is reasonable. I’ve been impressed by their ability, even as young as three, to throw out some fair suggestions. For example, if my kids are playing on their iPads while I cook, I might say, “Give me a reasonable number of minutes for screen time before we turn those off and go outside.” 90% of the time, I get a totally sensible answer - and they actually follow through! I think this has instilled confidence in my kids that I trust their judgment and value their input. It has also shown me that I am raising little people who are capable of regulating themselves. We don’t give kids enough credit for this, but I think it’s vital to their development.

Is there anything you’ve stopped doing—either out of necessity or growth—that used to feel essential to you as a parent?

Yes! Fixing. Asserting my perfectionist tendencies on them. I’ve completely stopped and cut myself free from those deep roots of controlling every aspect of a situation. Just kidding. I haven’t stopped. But it is something I actively work on.

My speech pathologist brain has been wired to diagnose a problem, create a goal to address that problem, and intervene until the child meets that goal to a mastery level. Parenting doesn’t work in that linear fashion. As resilience is a major tenet of our working mission statement, I think an integral part of that is allowing my kids to mess up. Fail a bit. FAFO. I’m here. Bounce ideas off me. I’ll offer support and be on your team. But the solutions you come up with are your own, and so are the consequences.

When my kid encounters a problem, I have to ask myself, “Is this a safety issue?” Because if they aren’t about to harm themselves or others, it’s probably something that holds a valuable lesson. And despite my intense inclination to be the ultimate helicopter parent, I am actively trying to step back. I want my kids to feel that I feel they are capable. Doing something for them only reinforces the idea that I don’t think they can.

Similarly, if they don’t follow my advice, I have to fight every urge to say, “I told you so…” or “See if you had only done what I had told you…”. Because sometimes, in the moment, I struggle with wanting to be right over being effective. But all that does is shame my kid for trying something and belittles their confidence in their problem-solving skills. I don’t ever want to make my kid feel small. I want to honor our relationship over my own sense of pride.

That’s easier said than done, especially in the moment. I don’t need to beat my kids’ confidence to a pulp to prepare them for the real world. The real world is waiting to present challenges. I need to be the one helping my kid build the skills in benign situations so their brains are wired to pull from that when it really matters.

The “I told you so” feels good in the moment. But sitting with your kid in their failure? Aligning with them, being their teammate, and assuring them that there’s another way? That’s working the long game. That’s weaving fibers into your connection.

What’s something new or surprising you’re learning about one (or more) of your kids lately?

Lately, I’ve been surprised by my kids’ abilities to handle themselves in difficult situations. When you’re in the thick of it, doing the hard work and endless implementation of values and processes, trying your hardest to be consistent, it feels like it’s just not landing. But then you might get the chance to witness your kid out there in the wild doing the damn thing. They’re actually carrying over skills you feel like they’re just not getting when you practice them at home. But that’s just it: at home, they’re safe to mess up. They’re safe to try things on and play with alternatives. I’ve seen our eight-year-old daughter navigate tricky social situations with peers that I would have never had the courage to rise above at that age.

Truthfully, my people-pleasing tendencies would still have me falling short today. My middle son asks thought-provoking questions about topics days after I thought were simply glazed over. My youngest son practices scenarios in his pretend play with his cars and trucks, echoing language we say like mantras around here. When so many moments feel like, “Am I doing this right? Is this even making a difference?” I’m starting to see: It is. And when it happens, it feels like such a parenting win.

What kind of adult are you hoping your kids will be drawn to as a friend one day? Not just a partner or spouse, but the kind of person they’d want to go for a walk or grab a coffee with.

Me. Or, rather, the me I’m trying to be. Before that comes off as self-absorbed, let me explain. I work every day to become the person I hope my adult children want to be around. I put so much effort into fixing my own shortcomings. I still mess up a lot. I struggle with giving myself grace. It’s easy when they’re little and depend on you, or when they’ve already forgiven you before you’ve even owned it. It’s not going to be so easy when their world expands beyond our cozy nest, as I’m sure you know. I want to be worthy of their company. I once heard a quote that the ultimate goal of parenting is to raise kids who don’t need us, but still want to be around us. Man, doesn’t that hit? I want to raise resilient and self-sufficient people who still want to grab coffee with me.

My parents really did this right. My parents weren’t my friends growing up. I definitely knew there was a line between their authority and my need for development. Although I tried to bulldoze it, they firmly held that boundary. The barricade I pushed against as a teenager has become the buttress of support that I can still lean against in adulthood. When something great or terrible happens in my life, they’re my first call after Kyle. They weren’t mean or unnecessarily flexing some authoritarian muscle. They just wouldn’t let that line be blurred. In turn, I realized their job was to keep me safe and to guide me, despite my mistakes. They did that with an unwavering spirit. Even when I didn’t agree with them, I trusted them because they were sturdy and consistent.

So, if I can be the kind of adult who listens without judgment, doesn’t jump to offer solutions but offers support, values the quality time together, and encourages them in all their capabilities, then I have done the internal work that has earned me that cup of coffee with them. Maybe, if I’m lucky, at our table with a candle and some soft music in the background.

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Identity, Intuition & the Inner Life of Parenting

Legacy, Love & the Long Vision of Parenting

1. Kyle Shepard is a father, husband, and military resilience instructor—and the brilliant mind behind Resilient Mental State, where he offers practical challenges, evidence‑based strategies, and Stoic principles to build resilience. He’s also a BJJ brown belt, functional fitness coach, and audiologist who firmly believes resilience is a skill that can be trained. Whether in fitness, stress training, or daily life, Kyle’s work is grounded in helping people grow mentally, physically, and spiritually.

This is the story that originally drew me to Mary Kate:

A Way to Yes