I took a moment to start a blog post: “This morning I looked outside at the sun-kissed hills near our home and took a deep breath. I treasure these moments of peace knowing that anything may happen today. (I am the mother of five children.)”

Then my two-year-old stuck a sharp colored pencil in her four-year-old brother’s eye.

My day was suddenly “off schedule” to say the least.

I confiscated the pencil, called our doctor’s office, and scrambled to get kids in enough clothes, coats, and shoes to get out the door.

I was no longer “on schedule,” but I was still “on mission.” When we sit down to plan our days we don’t know what’s going to be most important. But we almost always know when the moment comes. Thankfully, it’s not always as obvious as an emergency trip to the eye doctor. But how often is it just as important?

When it’s your child’s heart that’s hurting, you might need to put a schoolbook aside and cuddle up in a chair together. When your child is testing the limits, you may need to take time to firmly work on the problem at the heart level. When your child needs time to rest and space to grow, you may need to excuse yourself from doing some good things to make space for the most important things.

The key to doing this is to determine that your life’s mission is important enough to make your schedule a tool rather than your master.

Most of us know instinctively that real life is the best classroom.

On Tuesday my kids (and I) learned a lot:

• The most adorable two-year-old in the world is dangerous if armed with a pencil.
• The cornea is the fastest healing tissue in the human body.
• An eight-year-old can (almost) make brownies from a mix by herself.
• Over time, some sort of mysterious gunk can make the hood of a Ford Expedition impossible to fully open or close.

Even more importantly we experienced kindness and growth:

• The Costco vision center receptionists offered to keep an eye on three kids while I pulled a pathetic little boy into the exam room.
• That same little boy informed me that I didn’t need to “talk at” his little sister for poking him in the eye. He already told her not to do it again.
• My oldest daughter realized, “It must be hard for you and dad to take us to the places we enjoy going.”
•  Friends gave us duct tape to keep that hood down.
• Our repair shop fixed the faulty hood latch for free.

“I will always love you, no matter what,” I said, holding out my arms. My baby girl melted into the hug, shedding guilty tears in relief. She didn’t need to be told that lashing out in frustration wasn’t fair. She also knew I wasn’t going to back down. She sighed, dried her tears, and crawled into bed for the unwanted nap.

I still consider myself a novice at this whole raising kids thing. But eight years in the parenting trenches has taught me that my job is to stand in the gap between what my children think they want— and what they really need. And, perhaps even harder, to stand in the gap between what the world thinks they need and what they actually require to grow and develop into the unique people they were born to become.

I’ll never forget my second day living in Taiwan. It was a beautiful day in mid-January. Back then I only had two children and the youngest– a chubby 17-month-old– was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. Two women swept down upon us, rubbing his bare arms and chattering vigorously in Mandarin. The only thing I could make out was a repeated phrase, “Bu Mama!”

I know their concern was genuine and, even without the communication barrier, it’s unlikely I could have ever convinced them that this warm-blooded child who flew out of Idaho when it was 14 degrees on Saturday couldn’t possibly need a coat when it was 75 degrees in Taiwan on Monday.

It’s never fun to be called a “bad mother.” But in a world that threatens to overwhelm our children, they desperately need someone to protect them. They don’t just need protection from horrors that make up today’s news headlines. But, as I would learn within months of that big move to Taiwan, our children need to be protected from toxic levels of expectations.

As I explored in-depth in Dying to Win, families everywhere are feeling the pressure of living in an overstressed world. In Asia school systems struggle to figure out how to reduce academic competition that’s pushing way too many students to the brink of suicide. In Nubian villages, many students are too busy memorizing the contents of textbooks to connect with their families and cultural heritage. In America, researchers found a disturbing correlation between the academic calendar year and youth suicide rates. It’s like academic anxiety is a contagious disease spreading across the globe.

As the dangers of obsessing over test scores become increasingly apparent, there’s a parallel drive to let our kids experience more in life. The lists of great classes and activities to help them become “well-rounded” is endless. It’s true that there’s so much more to life than just schoolwork, but it’s also easy for so many good activities to crowd out the best things in life. At any age, our children need time and space to process what’s happening in life, reflect on who they are, and discover what they’re meant to be in this world.

As parents, we have a responsibility to look at the big picture and make our absolute best guess as to exactly what our children do, and don’t, need. At times we have to look deeply into our children’s faces, strive to read their hearts, and see the two-year-old deep inside who needs a nap more than anything else in the world. Even if our choice to slow down at times clashes with worldly desires. Even when we know our child’s needs defy cultural expectations. Even if someone might call us a “bad mamas.”