“I need some f------ nappies,’’ the woman yelled across at her partner who was apparently too quick to exit (or was that escape?) – the carpark at a Maroochydore park on the weekend.

A beautiful afternoon in the park shattered by the screaming of a young woman who seemed more concerned about her mobile phone or the cigarette hanging out of her mouth than the well-being of her own kids.

Still yelling, she barks at her young children to ‘get f--- back here’’ as she realises they are already running from her.

And why wouldn’t they?

It’s glimpses like this that make you wonder how some children have any hope of being raised into calm and responsible adults.

Too often we’ve all found ourselves crying on the inside as we watch adults completely lose it – whether it be frazzled mums in the grocery aisle or dads barking at their kids on the sporting field.

Parenting is one of the toughest jobs in the world. I’m certainly no saint in that department.

I’ve raised my voice on too many occasions, lashed out at my teenage son only to find myself apologising soon after, and at times just lost my cool and regretted it.

It’s frustrating. It’s relentless and there are times when you feel like your biggest failures occur within the four walls of your own home.

But parenting is something none of us can afford to give up on – no matter how often we feel we are failing.

The tragic reality is that our courts are full of young people who have been the victims of failed family systems – and those who have come from perfectly good homes who have just failed themselves.

I consider myself very lucky when it comes to my own family background.

My father has always expressed his pride in his children while my mother’s dedication to us kids has known few boundaries.

I still remember the only and only time I have ever heard my mother swear. I was so surprised that it felt like time stopped still.

At the time, we had a restaurant and there were a million and one orders coming in and for a brief moment my mum lost it and said ‘bloody’.

She could have knocked us all over but it was a lapse that was never repeated.

It’s probably because of my mother that I’ve never been a fan of foul-mouthed women – nor men, for that matter.

The point is that our kids learn not so much from what we tell them – but what they see us do.

It’s a theme that we will hear next week during Child Protection Week, where the message is Children See, Children Do: Make Your Influence Positive.

Our behaviour often becomes a template for a lifetime.

If they see us working hard, they are more likely to appreciate the value of doing a job well.

If they see us talking politely to those who come across our path, they are more likely to appreciate the value of courtesy and communication.

But if we continue to be foul-mouthed and abusive, we shouldn’t be surprised if our kids grow up to be just the same.

One of the real challenges, I’ve found, is to prevent myself just reacting to the negative behaviour in a negative way.

It’s harder, but far more important, to recognise the positives – and reinforce them by acknowledging and rewarding such behaviour.

Parenting is a constant battle, and unfortunately there are none of us perfect when it comes to raising our kids. But we can’t afford to give up on the most noble profession in the world.

While we can lament the failure of our schools, the government, the courts, our police, at the end of the day, if we are truly honest with ourselves, some of our biggest failures start right at home.

How often do we stop to really listen to our kids?

How often do we do the simple things – like laying on the trampoline under the stars and just talking about life, the world, the universe – and the wonder of it all.

How often do our children hear us talk about how good things are – or how well they have done at school or in sport?

How often do they hear us talk anything positive at all?

But more importantly, how often do we see the world through the wonders of a young child.

I am continually amazed about how much my four-year-old teaches me about how great life is as he asks the most simple of questions about the things unfolding in front of his wide eyes.

It’s a reminder to me, too, that those wide eyes take everything in.

They see everything, hear everything, and ultimately my behaviour will influence how he sees the world, fatherhood and the boundaries of human decency.