Empathic Parenting Outperforms the Punitive

Even as I got upset about the article I read, I couldn't help but think about that time with our youngest Bryce. The time when they were five years old and I had to carry them thrashing and kicking out of CVS. I was on a mission to get last minute cheap and fun little Christmas gifts for my wife Amy (yes, I'm one of those guys). Bryce had a meltdown because they wanted a toy they weren't going to get. Our oldest Beatrice tried to help, but as a seven-year-old, that's not easy to do when your sibling is out of control in a store and you're trying to get them out safely. 

It wasn't the first or last time Bryce had melted down growing up. But I never thought of punishing them to attempt to extinguish the behavior. That never would've worked because it would've fueled the melt down further. Instead, we always did our best to secure them safely and let the tantrum burn out, which it always did. Yelling at them and/or shaming them would've exacerbated the problem and just create fear, distrust, and resentment.

A recent Wall Street Journal article titled "Goodbye Gentle Parenting, Hello ‘F—Around and Find Out’" (paywall) is what got me upset and thinking about all of this. Even before I read the article the title alone made me mad. "Goodby Gentle Parenting" -- as if parenting with love, empathy, positive discipline, and of course, Kidpower, was feeble and weak and not conducive to deterring poor behavior.  

The article went on to share "tough love" parenting examples like throwing your child into a pond because they were "acting up" and not listening or biting your child back if they bit you.

WTH?

I don't care if it worked or not in the short term, that's nuts and will not help you raise respectful and responsible kids. Instead, it will help you raise bullies. And if your kids have any kind of mental health issues, it's potentially worse for the kids' mental health if they've been treated punitively (which was the way it was for a long, long time). 

Punitive discipline can have a lasting negative impact on your children. When my sister and I were growing up, we were spanked for misbehaving and our mouths washed out with a bar of soap for cursing. That did not necessarily get me to stop the behaviors, but it certainly made me fearful and angry. Fortunately, our mom moved on from that discipline style in our late childhood -- and thank goodness! But the lasting impact for me is that I continually fight against my punitive-mode origins. 

Yes, I can be a fussy dad, but I've worked on it every day since we first had Beatrice and then Bryce. Amy and I intentionally parent with respect, empathy, and positive discipline. Positive discipline's goal is to teach, guide, and encourage better behavior in the future. This includes using respect, clear expectations, natural/logical consequences, and encouraging our kids to foster self-control, which is what we've done since they were little. 

Removing Bryce from the meltdown's crater all those years ago was a natural consequence. They weren't getting the toy they wanted and so we were no longer going to be around the toys they wanted. Once Bryce cooled down, then we had a discussion about why they couldn't have the toy. Not a super in-depth conversation when your child is five, but you've got to start somewhere. Now that both Beatrice and Bryce are teens, the positive discipline payoff has been the strength of our parent/child relationships, their relationships with others, and their value of self.

Do we do it right every time? Nope, but we're pretty damn consistent otherwise. Do our kids get where we're coming from all the time? Nope, but they listen and learn much better than if we focused on "toughening" them up by literally biting back. Empathic parenting outperforms the punitive every time in our lesson plan. 

To Do Or Not To Do

The first time it happened I opted to not do it, to not deal with it. So, I called for roadside assistance via our car insurance. In our own driveway.

The second time it happened, less than six months later, I was at a crossroads: do I attempt to do it myself or call again for roadside service. In our own driveway.  

Fortunately for me, I have an amazing and versatile wife who keeps her head cool under these circumstances. I, however, do not. My wife Amy came in the front door and said, "The back tire isn't holding air, and I found a screw in it."

I sat in the living room working as I listened to her words. I cursed multiple times, something I always do when I escalate into being stressed out. 

"Do you want to call roadside assistance again?" she asked.

I thought about it, continuing to curse in my head about the whole thing. 

"No, let's put the spare on. Please help me."

"Okay, let's do it," she said.

As we moved outside to the car I kept thinking about the life-hack lists that parents are supposed to share with their kids, the ones that include learning how to change your tire. Something I hadn't done since I owned my first car in high school. But how can I tell my kids to learn something that I haven't even done?

Amy and I did it together. Our youngest Bryce helped a little with the jack, and our oldest Beatrice came in and out of the house to watch us.

Now we know how to do it. I know how to do it. Later that night I joked with our kids, "Let's go change a tire."

They of course said, "No thank you."

A week later we discovered the Yoda fountain in front of the Industrial Light & Magic offices in the Presidio in San Francisco. This was after visiting the Walt Disney Family Museum, which was a true gem for any Disney fan, learning all about Walt's life from birth to death. Walt was a doer who transformed animation and imaginations around the world, and when we found the Yoda fountain, Yoda's famous quote of from Star Wars The Empire Strikes Back popped into my head: “Do or do not. There is no try.”

I was 14 years old when I saw The Empire Strikes Back for the first time. My sister, an old friend, and I rode our bikes to the theater to see it. I loved it. I've loved everything Star Wars since, too. George Lucas was another doer who transformed storytelling and imaginations everywhere (and now Disney keeps the magic alive). 

But doers don't have to be the most famous or transformative or successful; we all have a choice every day to do or not to do (sorry, Shakespeare). To try is a nice sentiment on the path to doing, but it's also a cop out to not commit fully in doing (thank you, Yoda).

The only way to know is to do, even if doing means failing. We couldn't know the difference otherwise and we couldn't recalibrate otherwise. When we finally changed a tire after decades of not doing (and calling roadside assistance), which again was a choice, through all the angst of the act for me, we did it. And now we can do it again. I don't want to friggin' deal with a flat tire again, but we can do it now. 

This an important distinction and one I hope our teens get. They must, because otherwise they wouldn't have tried out for theater, sang solos in choir, learned guitar, organized a student march, and so many other things, some of which we encouraged, but they ultimately chose and did. The same with me and Amy, too. It's okay not to do, that's always a choice, but to do is to know something new, and who knows where that could go.

Wiring the Right Way

I remember jumping off our roof into the swimming pool when my sister and I were in high school. Super fun and super dangerous, our dad would get so mad at us when he caught us.

According to psychologist David Yeager, something that looks like risky and crazy to us, may be a new way to solve a problem. Well, maybe not jumping off the house roof into the pool, but other things could apply, based on a podcast my wife Amy listened to: Dr. Maya Shankar -- A Slight Change of Plans: What We Get Wrong About The Teen Brain.

This was something Amy talked to me about on our mountain hike this morning. Yes, the teen brain doesn't finish developing and maturing until the mid-to-late 20's. The prefrontal cortex is one of the last parts to mature and it's the area that's responsible for skills like planning, prioritizing, and making good decisions. Something many adults struggle to believe at times that teens can do. That teens are "all gas, no brakes". Which is true, again at times, but again, they are capable of planning ahead. 

From the podcast above, the psychologist used the example of planning to sneak out of the house. Now, as we discussed this fact on our hike, we were not advocating it, but my Amy did sneak out when she was a teen. I, however, did not. Really, I didn't. My sister did, including taking my El Camino for a joy ride, but I never snuck out. Nope, I did not. Don't look at me like that. 

Here's a much less risky brain-powered example: How many competitive Olympic heroes are teens who train and develop their bodies and brains for the future? Quite a few actually. Of the 2024 Paris Olympic Great Britain and Northern Ireland team, 14 were teenagers out of 327. There were many others from around the world. 

Our teens are teens, yes, and they've had mental trials already, but they do continue to amaze us with their creative brain power (without sneaking out or jumping off the roof). Our oldest Beatrice constantly develops her artistic abilities and fine motor skills, and one of her recent projects was a meticulous model of a cute alleyway with a coffee shop and a bookshop. I helped with the wiring but she did all the rest. Bryce has also been back at the guitar working their brain overtime to learn some sweet tunes. 

Bryce also surprised us at the joint middle school and high school holiday choir performance when they joined 4 other classmates in singing and performing Fleet Foxes - White Winter Hymnal, which they practiced secretly for weeks. Their version was fantastic and tears definitely came streaming down this dad's face. Plus, there's the fact that both our teens can and do talk thoughtfully about current social issues, ethics, and how they are empathic allies for marginalized groups. 

Sure, they may forget to take out the trash when we ask, or close the freezer all the way after I reminder them, or feed the pets when they're supposed to, but their brains are wiring the right way, and for that we're grateful. 

Loudly, Proudly, and with Much Love

On the way to my sister's house for Thanksgiving, our kids turned us on to some great new music. Artists we never would've heard otherwise -- beabadoobee, Alex G, Will Wood, The Volunteers, The Wallows, Glass Animals, and many others. Stuff that's not played on what's left of mainstream radio. Some of it sounding like shades of our music pasts from the 70's, 80's, and 90's. 

My wife Amy and I smiled in the front seat as we drove on and our kids excitedly took turns sharing their favorite artists, bands, and songs. Not all the music was our "cup of tea" as the expression goes, but much of it we really liked. It was also great insight into their teenage sensibilities.

Our kids have grown up hearing our music over and over again -- pop, rock, soul, rhythm and blues, and even some contemporary indie folk and country. Amy and I are also big fans of what's now called Yacht Rock -- smooth but surprisingly complex early "emo" (emotional) pop-rock from the 70's and 80's (think Steely Dan, Toto, Christopher Cross, Michael McDonald, Kenny Loggins, Ambrosia). We just finished watching a great documentary called Yacht Rock: A DOCKumentary from HBO Documentary Films that we highly recommend for those who love that music.

Early on in my life my mom turned me on to that music and more -- rhythm and blues, soul, pop, and of course my favorite, rock (and roll). Everything from Janis Joplin to the Ohio Players to Michael Jackson to Earth Wind & Fire to Pablo Cruise to The Doobie Brothers. 

Billy Joel's hit "Only the Good Die Young" was the first 45 record I bought with my allowance. My sister and I walked to the local mall and went to the Woolworth's record section where we would check out all the records for what seemed like hours. Every time we had enough money to buy a new single, we made the trek to Woolworth's. 

A few years later when I was 13, I joined the Columbia Record Club and bought 13 records for 1 cent, which really turned out to be more in shipping and handling. But my parents weren't happy when they found out I still had to buy three more albums over two years at full overpriced Columbia Record Club prices. However, those first 13 albums were my coming of age -- Kiss, Kansas, Journey, Boston, Queen, Aerosmith, AC/DC, and others (becoming the Rush fan I am today would come a few years later). 

Between then and now there's been so much amazing music I've experienced, and I must credit my nephew Nick for turning me onto to some of it during the 2010's. His mother (my sister) and father were also grounded in
tons of great music and both my nephew and niece love it all, too. Again, thank you, Nana (Mom). 

One of many shared loves of Amy and I that's fueled our love for nearly three decades is this very music we grew up with, our coming-of-age music, and the music we've grown together with ever since we met. Our kids don't necessarily like all these past musical artists and bands as much as we do, but our music has influenced them more than they've realized, just like my mom's music influenced my sister and me. 

Our kids grew up loving pop music (Taylor Swift and many others), but today along with pop, Beatrice also loves alt-rock from the 90's to today (thank you grunge), and Bryce loves edgy new punkish-rock and amazing new singer-songwriter music. Now the coming-of-age circle is complete because they're turning us on to a lot of great new music. 

But the greatest tribute for me, even though they don't listen to the band (yet -- ha!), is the fact that my daughters wear my Rush t-shirts and sweatshirts. That most certainly rocks, because what they don't know is that to me (and millions of fans), Rush has always represented individualism, critical thinking, learning, levity, and empathy -- all the things and more we want for them -- loudly, proudly, and with much love.

Blessings to Our Teachers Everywhere

"Who's your favorite teacher?" our youngest Bryce asked me.

"I don't have a favorite," I answered. "I like them all."

"This guy," Bryce said. This is their new humorous response equivalent to saying, "C'mon, you can do better than that."

Bryce pressed further. "How would you rate them all on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"I wouldn't," I said. "Again, I like them all."

"What about my teachers?" our oldest Beatrice asked. "How would you rate them?"

"Again, I wouldn't."

"This guy."

This was the conversation with our teens after my wife Amy and I went to both their back-to-school open houses, with Bryce now in middle school and Beatrice in high school. I did ultimately acquiesce to Bryce's demand and rate each of her teachers (they all got high marks, by the way), but Beatrice didn't want any specific number ratings, just a nod that we liked her teachers. 

Which we did. Both open house visits were great. In fact, one of Beatrice's teachers felt like this was one of the best parental turnouts since before COVID-19. Distance learning was difficult to manage for everyone and many kids fell behind. We were fortunate to be able to work from home and support our kids while they learned from home, and today we've thankfully been back in the classroom for a few years now. 

We've gone to our teens' open houses every year, virtually and in person, and are always excited to hear when their teachers have in store and what they'll be learning throughout the year. From preschool to now, our children have had a quality education and the enduring support of teachers and staff. Besides the preschool that we paid for, from kindergarten onward, the public education system continues to be foundational to our republic. 

Our third president, Thomas Jefferson, believed that educated citizens made the American experiment of self-government a success. He advocated for free and public education for all that was radical in his day, even if it took a lot longer for enslaved black people and women to experience it for themselves. There are educational options for families today, but not all are accessible or affordable for all like the public education system.

As we sat in each of our kids' classes during their middle and high school open houses, we heard more than just what was in the teachers' syllabuses. We heard their teachers' hopeful enthusiasm that every child will have the opportunity to learn and grow in their classes, and that they will do everything they can to ensure every child will have the support and resources they need. Not always easy for teachers and the public education system to do, but it's still the cornerstone of our democracy, enabling education for all regardless of social status, gender, race, ethnicity, or sexual orientation. 

Beatrice and Bryce may not like school every day, but they do appreciate their teachers. When I reflect on them wanting to know how we'd rate their teachers this year, I give them all 10's. Yes, we're still making up for learning deficits and our teachers are working hard to close those gaps. This Labor Day, blessings to our teachers everywhere. 

Let's Dance!

In a world on fire full of crazy hate, it was fun to watch high school students and teachers dance like no one was watching. But there lots of people watching -- a high school gym full parents, students, teachers, and administrators who cheered on the dancers for the "Dancing with the Santa Cruz Movie Stars" competition. We never watched the Dancing with the Stars show on TV, but we used to love So You Think You Can Dance. 

I remember when I was in high school when some of us would do funny skits during assemblies that sometime involved other teachers and even parents. 

Like the time I stood in the gym in nothing but a towel wrapped around me (I had shorts on underneath) with a few more of my football team. We were blindfolded and we were supposed to guess which girl was giving us a kiss on the cheek (or something like that). I don't remember all the context during the assembly, but that's what we did. However, the twist was our mothers were the ones who kissed us on our cheeks, and a gym full of students, teachers, and administrators got quite a kick out of it. 

There were many other fun times like these when I was in high school, but this dance show at our daughter's high school was next level. Our daughter Beatrice wasn't dancing, but she was there with her friends cheering on the competitors, including her favorite math teacher. It was only the second year of this competition, and the dance teacher who organized was another favorite teacher of Beatrice's. 

My wife Amy and I hadn't had that much fun on a Friday night since our date nights of old, pre-kids. Watching the high school "Dancing with the Santa Cruz Movie Stars" competition filled me with pride and nostalgia. Teachers or another student were paired with dance students who choreographed the dances to movie soundtrack songs from Barbie, Mama Mia, Teen Beach, Singin' in the Rain, and many others, including Star Wars. Yes, Star Wars. I wanted to get up and dance with a lightsaber, too. A student, a school administrator (who won last year), a professional dancer and choreographer, and our city mayor made up the judges. 

What was the most inspiring for us, though, was all the dancers' willingness to be vulnerable for the sake of fun and entertainment, for trying something new. No one was making fun of anyone as far as we were concerned. The packed gym was cheering on all the dancers regardless of their skill level, and some of them were pretty darn good. Most of the dancing pairs only had a few days to pull together a routine, too. Amy and I used to take dance lessons and love to dust off our moves sometimes, so this got our boogie shoes tapping. In the immortal words of Kevin Bacon's character in Footloose, "Let's Dance!"

The Beat of BhivePowered Drums

After decades of thinking about playing the drums, and with only a few short-lived runs at starting to play but never following through, I finally picked up the drumsticks for good shortly after the COVID-19 lockdown started. That was nearly four years ago now, and since then, I’ve practiced for over 1,000 hours, averaging about 5 hours per week, usually playing after dinner. When I travel, I bring my practice pad with me and try to bang out some rudiments. 

In addition to practicing rudiments and taking various lessons, I’ve also had fun learning to play many songs I grew up with and loved (and still love), nearly 120 songs to date. I get to 80%-85%% proficiency, record myself playing, and then move on to another song, always learning two songs simultaneously. Early on I couldn’t always get the entire song down, but now I can. 

No, I’m not starting a band anytime soon, but the point of all this ongoing practice is to improve and sustain my drumming performance. Hitting 100% isn’t easy, but consistency in proficiency is key. I’m also always adding wrinkles to my rudiments, the lessons I’m learning, and periodically getting feedback and lessons from a professional session drummer. 

I’ve been beating a similar drum for our teens recently, getting them to understand that it's never too late to try something new and see if it lands on the right heartbeat for them. Especially now, this is the time for them to explore what moves them the most (and they should do this throughout life). Both my wife Amy and I tell them that they should never be afraid to give something new a go. Our youngest Bryce gave theater a go and loves it. But even if Bryce hadn't liked it, they really put themselves out there during the very first audition, which is always a super-big deal. Our oldest Beatrice has given lacrosse, track, and now theater a go, and we'll see what she really enjoys and wants to continue the most. Although art is her true love and that is definitely something she continues to invest in.

The key is the heartfelt enjoyment our kids get from whatever those endeavors, hobbies, activities are that they try. The world is cutthroat competitive enough, and while our teens will still need to put in the work to learn and grow in whatever they aspire to do, they've got to have fun, too. When I coached both our kids in soccer for years, that was always my mantra. Learn new skills, embrace teamwork when applicable, and have fun. Always. Have. Fun. That's the beat of BhivePowered Drums. 

Listen More Mindfully

I felt bad. I did. It's something I've worked on for years but still fall prey to. I waited for a pause in her dialogue to apologize. At least, I thought it was a pause.

"Beatrice, I'm really sorry," I said. Sincerely, too.

All three of them laughed -- both daughters, Beatrice and Bryce, and my wife, Amy.

"Dad, you did it again!" Beatrice exclaimed. "You interrupted me again while I was talking! You always do that!"

"Dad, she wasn't done talking," Bryce said. "And why do you always ask so many questions?"

And then I felt even worse. True, I ask both kids a lot of questions about their day and how they're feeling, but they also weren't wrong about me interrupting. Bea certainly wasn't wrong. Right before I apologized to her she expressed how much she didn't appreciate it when I interrupted her. I was proud of her for letting me know who she felt, and at the same time, momentarily devastated that I actually did that to her. 

My own perception is that I believe I wait until a natural pause occurs before adding my 2 cents worth in a conversation, or ask my kids questions. I'm a humble expressive, but I do like to share my thoughts on whatever the topic at hand is, or again, ask my kids clarifying questions. It's not the first time I've been told this over the years and I have to admit I've been an equal-opportunity interrupter for whomever I'm in a room with. 

I wouldn't call them microaggressions, though, because I don't believe I'm intentionally slighting anyone, especially my own family. I've been in the room with enough literal microaggressors over the years to know the difference and have been a staunch advocate for those who experience it.

But when I do interrupt, am I really listening? Or am I unconsciously disregarding what someone is saying to me (or others in a room) just so I can express my thoughts as if mine have more value? God, I hope not, but I'm also afraid so, sometimes anyway. Maybe it's due to a lifetime of overcompensating for growing up feeling inadequate and that my own thoughts weren't worthy to express. Maybe. Still, it's not something I'm proud of, especially when I hear it from my own daughter. Again, I'm proud of Beatrice for her awareness and clarity. Bryce has the same sensibilities. 

Which I wish I had more of when I was their age (even though they are still very "expressive" teens with all that teens bring, but still). I have worked on listening more and interjecting less over the years. When I'm truly mindful of it, I clear my mind and simply listen to the person or persons talking to me or to others. I listen with purpose and only respond if and when appropriate and it only adds value. 

I'll continue to work on not interrupting, but I won't stop asking our kids questions about their lives. I am still Dad, for goodness sake, so I'll just have to listen more mindfully along the way. 

Men of a Vulnerable Age

I stood in the shade of the awning with others, away from the creep of morning valley heat. A slight breeze ebbed and flowed around us as the service began. Soon after, my friend Craig shared reverent words about his mother who had passed. With the exceptions of my long-time dear friends Rob and Greg, Greg's wife Jody, and Craig's wife Noriko, I didn't know Craig's family. I never even knew his mother. 

But I did know about her through him. And for the nearly 35 years I've known Craig, he has always talked fondly of his mother. For nearly 35 years, we've been getting together with our core group of long-time friends (45+ years for those of us who went to junior high and high school together). The last time all of us were together as a group was January 2020. Then COVID hit. 

Since then we haven't seen each much. There was Rob's retirement party, and then some of us individually going to see the other mutual friend from our core group, my best friend since junior high, Robby. Pre-pandemic we've gone to Robby's as a group at least 1-2+ times a year for decades. Robby, who had broken his neck at a swim meet in high school, has been paralyzed ever since. While still living somewhat independently with home healthcare, his travel mobility has decreased dramatically over the decades, and today he doesn't venture beyond his own city limits. Also, outside of this core group, there's Troy, my best friend from college, and we've only seen each other once in the past few years. 

When Craig's mom passed away, he posted when her service and reception would be, and I knew I had to be there for him, as did our friends Rob and Greg. Listening to him talk about his mother at the graveside service reminded me of when my own parents passed back in 2012, only four months apart, and all the emotional upheaval experienced during that time. At his mom's memorial reception, Craig, Rob, Greg and I hugged, talked, and laughed freely, realizing how much we've missed our time together.  

While it may be true that men can go longer periods of time without talking or seeing each other, and don't necessarily thrive on intimacy and emotional connection as much as women do, my friends and I have shared quite a bit of our lives with each other over the years. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the meh. The stormy rainbow yak of life. 

In fact, what I've found is that the intimacy and emotional connections have increased over the years, even without seeing each other or talking to each other that often. Maybe it's simply maturity and nurturing empathy, although we still know how to give each other quite the inappropriate regular ribbing; we are a diverse group, that's for sure. Now in our mid to late 50's, most of us have our own families and children (and grandchildren!), and all of us have lots of life lived behind us, and hopefully lots more ahead. We are now men of a vulnerable age, making peace with our present, and embracing the presence of each other's love. 

Other past posts about these friends of mine:

• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Grown Men Friends and Fathers
• Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future
• Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work
• Men of An Unremarkable Age

How We Learn and Grow

"...and if love remains, though everything is lost, we will pay the price, but we will not count the cost..."

–Rush, Bravado

Beatrice searched her backpack. 

"Where's my phone?" she said.

"You lost your phone?" I said.

"No, I just had it on the bus. It was in my pocket, but it's not now."

"Look through your backpack again." 

"I did. It's not there."

It was inevitable. The loss of something we should never lose. Especially when we're teenagers. But teens don't own exclusive rights to losing stuff; I recently lost the title to one of our cars. Gone. Poof. Farewell. 

Crap.

"You must have left it on the bus," my wife Amy said to our daughter. "Let's check 'find my phone' to see where it is."

We checked the app. Sure enough, it looked like the phone was moving along the bus route Bea had been on when she got off at our home stop. She had been hanging out with friends after school that day and then took the bus home from downtown. 

"This bus loops back down the hill, so you should go up to the upper bus stop and wait for it and then search the bus."

This caused Beatrice escalated angst. Her face contorted. "I don't want to go by myself. Can you go with me? Or, can you just call the bus driver?"

"We can call the bus station, but that won't help you get your phone back now," Amy said. "I have to go to a meeting, but you should still walk up there and wait so you can get your phone back."

At this point I had been running all the things through my head that we'd have to do if her phone was truly lost. And I didn't want to have to do any of them. 

"I'll wait up there with you. C'mon, let's go," I said.

"Okay. Thank you, Dad. Will you help me talk to the bus driver?" she said. "I'm so sorry."

"Yes, I'll help you. Let's go so we don't miss the bus."

We walked up the hill to the bus stop and sat on the bench. I was tired and wanted to relax before I had to pick up Bea's sister Bryce from theater rehearsal, but that wasn't going to happen now. I also knew Bea felt horrible and was stressing out about losing her phone, so berating and/or shaming her wasn't going to make things any better, or make me feel any better. The phone was gone and we just had to focus on hopefully getting it back. 

I had the "find my phone" app up on my phone and Beatrice's phone was supposedly still on the bus and coming back down the hill. We sat on the bus stop bench and waited. I told her if the phone was on the bus, we'd get it back and then go get her sister. She was stressing hard about it and I felt for her. She really thought she still had the phone when she arrived home earlier. 

"Thank you for helping me Dad and not making me feel bad," she said. 

"I love you, Bea. We all lose stuff."

"Love you, too."

A woman walked up to the bus stop and waited with us. We struck up a conversation and she was very empathetic about our situation and said she would help us. She told Bea she was 24 years old and still lost things. 

The bus arrived, and after telling the bus driver the situation, he was very gracious in helping us search where Bea had been sitting. The other passengers helped, too. But the phone wasn't there, and according to the app, it should've been. 

That's when Amy called to tell me someone had picked up Bea's phone and got off the bus further back up the hill. He was waiting for us in front of a convenience store not too far away. I called Bea's phone to confirm, and he was very nice and said he'd wait. We walked back down the hill, got our car, and drove up to where the guy had her phone. 

After thanking the young guy for finding Bea's phone, I handed Bea her phone and we drove home. Her face was flush with relief. 

"Thank you again, Dad," she said. 

"You're welcome. I'm just glad we got it back," I said. "Text your mom and tell her we got it."

"Okay."

"So, what are you going to do the next time you get off the bus?" 

"Double-check that I have my phone," she said and smiled. 

I then told Bea about the times when I was in high school when I locked my keys in my car and my dad had to come help me get into my car. Too many times, actually. He was in law enforcement and knew how to use a Slim Jim tool to unlock my car door. He reminded me constantly to always have my keys and my wallet on me at all times, to always know where they were at all times, wherever I was. 

And then I pointed out to her that today, there are three things you always need to know where they are: your keys, your wallet/purse, and your phone. Always know where those things are and all will be well in the world. 

Like Beatrice, I was quite relieved we had found her phone and again ran through the things in my head I would've had to have done if we hadn't. It's just time and money, I thought. We would've figured it out. But we did find her phone thankfully and all was well. 

It was also a special bonding time for us looking for her phone. I was still Dad helping Daughter who had lost something she shouldn't have, but getting angry about her losing her phone wouldn't have helped anything other than making her feel like unworthy crap. Encouraging her to be preemptive and double-check next time was a better use of my time, as well as sharing about my own teen and adult fails. This, I told her, is how we learn and grow. 

I'm not sure how much she got of that, but she gave me a big hug and thanked me again. 

I Am Me

"Any life is made up of a single moment, the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is."

—Jorge Luis Borges

The first time we landscaped our small backyard, I didn't really know who I was. The yard was nothing but rocks, weeds, and ground that was as hard as cement. It was back-breaking work, but my wife Amy and I did it all ourselves, grass, flagstone, and all. We also planted the Japanese maple Amy had given me when we were first dating. The only exception to the backyard work was the installation of sprinklers that a friend of ours helped us with, which was way above our pay grade. That yard lasted as is for years, through the birth of both our children, Beatrice and Bryce. 

The second time we landscaped it, I was learning more about who I was. We replaced the old, dying grass with new sod, and added more flagstone. Some plants were replaced and we created an outdoor enclosure for our rabbit. Although it wasn't as back-breaking as the first time, it was still a lot of hard, sweaty work.

This past year we've been doing a series of home upgrades from floors to rooms, most of which wasn't our handiwork (again, above our pay grade and expertise). We're so grateful to have lived in this house for over 17 years, the house our children were literally born in (well, at least Bryce was -- Beatrice was another story). We've lived fully in every square foot of this house, including our backyard. I can't imagine living anywhere else.

Which leads me to that old saying, the third time's the charm. Back in January of this year, our backyard was a mound of muddy dirt after we had new drainage put in; we were starting from ground zero again. That was the beginning of the latest backyard refresh. One I didn't want to do ourselves this time. Too much back-breaking work, and as I inch toward 60 years of age, my back doesn't want to break anymore. 

But that's not what's happening. No, what's happening is that we are doing it again ourselves, because I wanted to do it again ourselves. Amy and I both did. We're repurposing the flagstone we had installed the first and second times, creating a new path around the back of the house to our main gate, will eventually add gravel and more plants and presto! A life renewed.

From rocky hard ground to mud pit to repurposed path, discovering who I am has definitely been an amazing journey, especially the past 26 years since I've been with Amy and starting a family. As I dig once again in the hard-packed backyard dirt, the slow-burn self-realization where I am today has inspired me. From the face of seemingly unending chaos at times to mindful moments of spiritual alignment, I really do control my own path.

Because the moment has finally come for me to know who I am: I am me. Amen.

No Greater Companions

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you."

—Shakespeare, The Tempest

"Dad, no more steps!"

Our oldest daughter Beatrice wasn't happy. We had carried our backpacks and dragged our suitcases from the train station to a lunch spot, and then hauled them up stairs on the side of a small hill to the hotel. We'd been doing this between vacation stops the entire trip. Anything that is less than a mile is reasonable to us to walk to with all our stuff. Us, meaning the parents. Not the kids.

"Why couldn't we have just taken a taxi!" Beatrice pleaded. 

We're now halfway through our latest vacation adventure in the UK, and while the entire family is having fun and we're grateful to be here, moving from place to place can be a stressful grind. That's the way my wife Amy and I like to travel, though. Especially when we're in places we've mostly never been, at least not together with our children. We pack a lot in on our trips and it's why we save our money each year to go on them. We've been traveling together before the kids and since. They're always an investment well worth the spend for us to experience, learn, and grow as humans. 

This time so far we've seen really old rocks (Stonehenge), really old castles (Windsor, Edinburgh, Blair), really old churches (Canterbury Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, St. Giles' Cathedral), and so many really lovely people, old and young, along the way. 

But back to the travel schlog. Our youngest daughter Bryce doesn't mind it as much as Bea does, but like me, she gets hot easily, which makes her uncomfortable and cranky. While I never experienced backpacking-on-the-super-cheap like Amy did before I met her, hauling all our crap in between multiple locations I'll still do. The payoff is always worth it. 

"Dad, no more steps!"

The last stretch to our latest hotel was supposed to be only 39 steps according to a sign up a small hill. We had carried our backpacks and dragged our suitcases from the train station -- total time was only about 15 minutes to haul it all less than a mile. Our kids can get grumpy and beat us up when we push them, but we know someday they'll thank us for all these travel experiences. 

"Why couldn't we have just taken a taxi!" Beatrice pleaded. 

"Just a little bit farther," I said, huffing and puffing up the hill. 

"You can do it," Amy said. "We're also there."

It wasn't 39 steps, though. It was 44. A sign taunted us at the top of the stairs with that bit of information. A measly tease of five more steps and then another 100 feet to walk to the hotel entrance. 

"Why did you make us do that, again?" Bea pressed me one time.

"I'm so hot and tired," said Bryce. 

"Good God, just go to the hotel," I said, wiping sweat out of my eyes, more than ready to rest and cool off.

We can all get a little cranky on these trips together, not just the kids. I'll tell you what, though -- I'll take the sweaty backpack and suitcase schlogging anywhere in the world as long as I'm with my wife and girls. There are no greater companions in the world. 

Why They Are And Who You Are

We recently watched Footloose again, this time with our teens, but they didn't really like it. How dare them! My wife Amy and I loved that movie growing up. Besides being a fun teen coming of age story, there's a heavy part when the church members start tossing library books into a burning trash can because they feel they destroying their children's souls. This is after banning dancing a few years prior due to a horrible accident that killed some local teens. The minister is mortified seeing his congregation burning books and he implores them to stop. He tells them all: 

"When did you decide to sit in judgment? When you’ve burned all of these [books] what are you gonna do then? Satan is not in these books, he’s in here … He’s in your hearts. Go on home, all of you. Go and sit in judgment of yourselves."

Amen. And in a way, books actually saved me. From 10 years old onward, I read all sorts of books, mostly fiction, science fiction, fantasy, and even suspense and horror (I loved Stephen King). I'd stay up late into the night reading. Growing up with domestic violence and sexual abuse, I could escape into all the stories read. Fantastical stories that transported me to other worlds, peoples, pleasures, and pain. Those that weren't mine, even if I could relate to what was happening to the characters, how they responded, and how they were transformed. 

In 7th grade, The Lord of the Rings embraced me. I even learned to write in Dwarfish runes and would role play with some of my friends. I also remember reading The Phantom Tollbooth in class that year and the wordplay was enchanting. I loved the story and that began a parallel reading journey of all that I consumed inside and outside the classroom. 

The English literature curriculum I had throughout junior high and high school was transformative for me. I had no idea that reading books like Brave New World and 1984 back then would be so relevant and scary today. I also don't remember if any books at the time were banned from our schools, but looking back now, books like The Grapes of Wrath, Of Mice and Men, and The Color Purple were banned by many school districts across America in the 1980's due to profanity, sexuality, and violence. 

Even growing up evangelical, I never fully understood why so many books were banned outright, instead of simply ensuring age-appropriate consumption if there was explicit material. However, for a 6-month stretch my sophomore year in high school I reactivated my evangelical upbringing by attending a weekly youth bible study where we were told that most things that weren't of God were evil and should be destroyed before they destroyed us. Thankfully I didn't burn any books back then, but I did burn some of my record albums. Eventually I woke from that dystopian Christian stupor even hungrier for new ideas and perspectives and escapism, and my voracious appetite for reading (and the truths in life) continued without delay. 

What's with book banning today? Are we more enlightened and inclusively empathic with what we want our children to read and learn? The short answer is no.

In a recent report by PEN America, the nonprofit free speech organization cited 1,477 instances of books being prohibited during the first half of the 2022-23 academic year, up 28.5% from 1,149 cases in the previous semester. Overall, the organization has recorded more than 4,000 instances of banned books since it started tracking cases in July 2021. And many of these books are largely by and about people of color and LGBTQ individuals. 

4,000 banned books from school districts across America since July 2021? What the hell is going on? What are we so afraid of? Now that we have kids, teens actually, we encourage them to read every day and we're grateful for our school district's inclusive curriculum. Both have been readers since they were little, and while they each have their own reading tastes today, we encourage them to read without any heavy-handed parental censorship. Of course we want to know what they're reading and what the content entails to ensure it's not age inappropriate, but we also want them to learn about other worlds, peoples, pleasures, and pain, just like we did growing up and why we still read so much today. 

Our teens will experience their own angst and heartbreaks, but we want them to understand what others experience as well, to learn about other cultures and ideologies and see the world with eyes of love and empathy without whitewashing the tragic truths throughout our history. This includes everything they're taught in school besides what they read outside of school.  

Writer James Baldwin wrote, "You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive."

That's exactly how I felt growing up. Reading books of all flavors can help us become better humans, to feel connected to other humans, and we want to nurture who are teens are becoming, not what we want them to be out of fear and prejudice. So, read a banned book today and open your eyes to a new world of perspectives. It doesn't mean you have to agree or live in that world, but it does mean you'll get a better understanding of why they are and who you are. 

The Adults of Tomorrow

It didn't really matter what she was arguing for, just the fact that she had to go through the exercise of researching a topic. Then, organizing her thoughts into an argument, writing the argument out, and presenting the argument in class, validated by the very research she did about the subject. That's a lot for adults to pull off, even when their jobs depend on it; presenting in front of people is a stressful and difficult activity. It's also a lot for 8th graders who have only just begun their critical thinking journey. 

Our 8th grader, Beatrice, had to do a project like this in her history class recently. She researched and wrote up her presentation and practiced presenting to us. We gave her feedback, something she's not always open to at this age, but she listened nonetheless and made adjustments. She practiced a few more times and then dreaded the day in class she'd have to present. She did it, though, angst and all. 

Of course we were proud of her. These critical thinking and presentation skills will serve her well later in school and life. This also introduced her to a controversial topic that can skew rational debate to emotional outrage. They had studied Texas v. Johnson, 491 U.S. 397 (1989) and whether flag burning constitutes "symbolic speech" protected by the First Amendment. Beatrice was assigned the argument that it was not symbolic speech and therefore should not be protected, and in helping her with the project, we had some interesting young-adult conversations about this very subject. 

While Beatrice may never want to be in debate club in high school (I never was and neither was my wife Amy), I was fortunate to judge a local high school debate competition recently. The topic was genetically modified organisms (GMOs) and there were 5 teams -- 3 were pro GMO and 2 were not. Their teacher told us (the judges) that they picked their pro or con stance and did their research independently of the other teams. It was only after each team shared their opening statements did they know where the other teams stood. I'm not sure if that's standard debate rules or not, but things got interesting when they moved to the rebuttal stage. 

Some emotion did run higher during the rebuttals, but the teams didn't devolve into trash talking haters of each other's viewpoints. Not that we were expecting it during a high school debate because I'm sure their grade depended on the decorum of the debate at each stage. The key was to listen to each other without judgement, but to not hold back either the countering facts of rebuttals that supporting their arguments. Back and forth they went between teams and I was truly immersed in their powerful interaction. When they got to their closing statements, it was going to be a tough decision as a judge to pick a winner. The other judges felt the same way, but in the end we picked a winner and a runner up. 

Some of the high school debate team members were obviously quite nervous, just like our own kids get in today in middle school presenting to their classes (and just like I still get before I speak publicly). From their introductions, to their opening statements, to their rebuttals, and then finally their closing statements, they delivered their best synthesis of their team arguments after weeks of research. I was honored to be a judge, and just like we tell our own children (whether they want to hear it or not), I told them that these critical thinking and presentation skills will serve them well through college and adulthood. Plus, the empathic skills of listening to others and responding in kind without personal judgement and shaming. There's definitely hope for the adults of tomorrow. 

The Act of Simply Doing

Oh, how I dreaded it. The long walk up a driveway or a walkway to the front door. I'd park my bike on the sidewalk and approach a porch imagining so much ridicule and shame coming my way once they'd open the door. I felt that way going to every home on my paper route to collect their monthly newspaper fees. 

Most of the time was without negative incident. They'd either be home and respond pleasantly getting me cash or writing a check, or they wouldn't be home. Sometimes I'd get a scolding about throwing their newspaper into the bushes or the front yard and not right on their front porch in front of their door. Sometimes I had to go back multiple times to collect when they weren't home (or they saw me coming and didn't want to pay). 

It was my first job at 12 years old. I enjoyed the newspaper delivery part most of the time, but not the collection part. Also, the early Saturday mornings folding, banding, and delivering the papers weren't all that fun either, but the reward was worth it. A little money and after Saturday delivery, fresh donuts and a Coke as a treat. 

The collecting of payments was an anxiety-filled drag. I didn't have the job for very long, but I'll never forget it either. Through all that stress, there were some important communication and persistence skills I learned at a young age. Asking people for money isn't easy, even when they owe it to you, especially for a 12-year-old.

Decades later, it's hard to watch your own kids stress about new life experiences, and the fear of putting themselves out there and then failing and being ridiculed and shamed is a difficult rite of passage for many kids and teens (and adults). For our youngest Bryce who's now 12, the angst was over trying out for a youth theater production of Beauty and the Beast. She had never done anything like this before where there were auditions being held and she actually had to try out for a role. Her anxiety was palatable, but after she got through the initial auditions, she really started to enjoy it. In fact, now she's loving all the rehearsals, the learning, the singing, and the dancing with a new found confidence. We can't wait to see the production!

More recently for Beatrice, who's now 14, the angst was over marketing herself to babysit. She took an online course, passed, and I then helped her put her first resume together for her. After getting the word out that she's ready to babysit, a friend gave her a paid practice run, but afterwards she got no other bites, which was another stressor. The hurry-up-and-wait time added up -- until finally she got the call for a babysitting gig (a text to her and her mom actually). She wanted to do it, but was apprehensive, and went back and forth about it. She also worried about making mistakes and her mom and I told her the only way to learn is to do it. And she did do it and did just fine. 

The stress-relieving catch phrase for both girls has been, "But they're going to throw rotten tomatoes at me," whether that's about trying out for theater, babysitting, presenting in class, etc. How they heard that expression, we have no idea. It's an old expression that refers to the practice of throwing tomatoes at bad performers going back to the early 1900s. Nobody throws rotten tomatoes anymore, at least, not literally.

Put yourselves out there, kids. Take risks, face your fears, stretch, learn, fail, and try again. Do it all. Sometimes the greatest success is in the act of simply doing. And that cumulative success of doing can empower self-confidence for a lifetime.

Magically Elastic

She picked up the tea bag and painted the blank page with it.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Our oldest child, Beatrice, deftly swept the tea bag back and forth across the paper. "A special project," she said.

"Are you painting with the tea bag?" I asked rhetorically. Of course that was what she was doing.

"Yes, I am."

"Very cool."

She then explained to me how once the paper dried, she would pour rice onto the paper and trace around whatever shapes it made. 

"What's it going to be?" 

Bea smiled. "I'll show you later."

I couldn't wait. She's been into art since she was little and has become quite the artist. Yes, that's easy for me to say, being her proud father who loves her and who is biased, but she really has a unique eye. Nearly every day after school she's sketching and drawing, and nearly every night before bed she's sketching and drawing. She prefers pencil and ink, but has worked in different mediums over the years. 

She recently drew a self-portrait, which I wish I could share, but she didn't want me to. She beautifully captured the awkward unsureness of a teenager, while at the same time, a calm and confident determination centered inside the adolescent maelstrom. That is one thing we've worked hard to help instill in both our daughters, and it really did emanate from her self-portrait.

Back to her latest artwork -- she poured rice onto the dried tea-stained paper and traced the seemingly random shapes the rice created on the page. 

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Something," Bea said.

I couldn't wait to see what she'd do with it, although I did ask her not to make a mess, and to clean up the ultimate mess she would make. C'mon, I'm Dad. 

Beatrice finished her latest piece of artwork and shared it. It was an imaginative map of a fantastical land, something I used to do after reading Lord of the Rings when I was her age. Except hers came from a spontaneous idea of drawing random shapes around rice on paper and then making it all up in her head. 

Creative learning and expression are so important to our family. Especially through music, art, and meditation. Both Beatrice and her sister Bryce love art. Bryce is also now in musical theater and loving it. Amy is an avid puzzle person and meditates regularly to keep her brain and spirit sound and in shape. I meditate as well along with drumming. These learning quests began in earnest during the first year of the pandemic and haven't let up.

That's because creative learning through music, art, and meditation helps us all process life and map its endless possibilities, even when it seems like there aren't many. These mental maps are the creative expressions from learning and experience that empower us keep us magically elastic and living our best lives. Our latest meditative mantra was also "my life unfolds in divine order." Amen to that. Keep the maps coming, Beatrice. 

Wearing School Well

What seemed simple at first turned into an engineering problem. School projects always do. This time it was youngest daughter Bryce's 6th grade special social studies project that was all about ancient Egypt. She chose to create a cat sarcophagus with a cat mummy inside it and do research around cats in Egyptian culture. That was the engineering problem -- how to help her make something that resembled a wooden cat coffin without being carved out of real wood. 

The cat mummy was the easy part. We picked out an old smaller stuffed animal (it wasn't even a cat -- it was a tiny goat) and wrapped it in a dirty ACE bandage. That worked just fine.

The sarcophagus was a different story. We thought about using all balloons of different shapes and sizes and then covering them with paper mache, but then what about being able to cut it in half like so we could put the mummy inside?

We had some old packing styrofoam in the garage that were nearly two halves of a big block. Bryce and her mom Amy felt like we could make that work as the body. But paper mache can still be messy and take a lot more work, so we found plaster cloth rolls online that just needed to be cut into strips, dipped, applied, and smoothed.

It ended up being a combination of items we used: the styrofoam, the plaster cloth rolls, balloon-like packing bubbles to add leg muscle contours to the body, an actual balloon for the head, old playdough to help shape the facial features and cat ears, and brown spray paint.

We made sure that Bryce did as much of the project as possible. That included her own Egyptian costume that Amy helped her with, and that she wanted to be as authentic as possible, plus the cat coffin that I helped her with. As parents (and I'm especially guilty of this), we want it to be the best final project product for them as possible. The good news was that Bryce really wanted to make it her own, and that's exactly what she did. 

At one point when I was helping Bryce shape the playdough for the face, she told me it looked more like a rabbit than a cat. She wasn't wrong. We adjusted it as best we could, covered it in plaster cloth, and when it was all dry, painted it splotchy brown for an aged effect.

After all the creative prep and engineering work, the payoff was seeing Bryce in her Egyptian costume presenting what she learned about cats, coffins, and mummies. She did a fantastic job (as did most of her class on their own individual or team projects). Amy and I volunteered to review each student presentation and rate them on how well they presented their projects (not on the veracity of the information itself). 

I learned some things I did not know either. I vaguely remembered that cats were special to Egyptians, but didn't realize how revered they were. They were considered magical creatures, vessels for the gods themselves, capable of bringing good luck to the people who housed them. To honor their treasured pets, wealthy Egyptian families dressed them in jewels and fed them fancy treats. When their cats died, they were mummified. When a cat died, the owners would have to shave their eyebrows in mourning. And if you killed another cat, even accidentally, you were put to death. 

Yikes. Although we're cat people anymore, I have a new found respect for them and their ancient godlike Egyptian glory thanks to Bryce, her research, and wearing school well. 

Empathic Knowledge Is Empowering For All

I had been telling my wife Amy a story about my day, when our oldest child called me a racist.

"So, there was a man standing there, an Asian man, and then..."

I don't even remember the exact context of what I said, but the story wasn't really about the Asian man. It was simply an identifier of those around me in my story as I told my story. I mean, he wasn't White, or Black, or Hispanic. He was Asian. 

"You're a racist, Dad," our oldest Beatrice said to me.

"No, Beatrice. I'm not. You're not using that word correctly. I'm just describing the race of the person he was," I said.

"Still a racist," she said.

"Nope."

This has happened more than once. Sometimes when I say something innocuous about Amy, or I tease her about something, and Beatrice is in the room, I hear her say: "You're being sexist, Dad."

"I don't think you know what that word means, Beatrice," I answer.

But maybe her and her younger sister actually do. I used to challenge my own parents all the time when I felt they said something inappropriate, offensive, sexist, and/or racist. We want our own children to challenge us while being compassionate about all people regardless of who they are. Not get in our face and call us a racist challenge us, but ask us questions about why we think what we think challenge us. 

And no matter how self-aware and antiracist I think I am (antiracist meaning actively working to dismantle racism), it doesn't mean we're not without fault. It's hard not to have racist and sexist ideas growing up in a world that devalues and degrades others because of skin color, gender, religious beliefs, sexual preference, and the list goes on and on, so that one group can be in power and reap what they want. So, I'm sure that there's some truth to Beatrice calling me out when I don't think I'm saying anything wrong. Subtle racism and sexism are still racism and sexism.

What I don't understand is how when we elevate those who have historically been underrepresented and suppressed, those in power feel like it's at their expense. That they're the ones now being discriminated against. Equality is hard to accept when the benefits of inequality for those in power have been embedded systemically for such a long time. Which is why we want our children to learn all sides of our history in school and to speak up and challenge others who don't want to acknowledge the realities of racism and sexism.

Again, we have our own racist and sexist beliefs no matter our background and it's important that we recognize that and work to upend them. We recently took our family to see Dr. Ibram X. Kendi and Nic Stone speak about their new collaborative book titled How to Be a (Young) Antiracist based on Dr. Kendi's previous work How to Be an Antiracist. Both of them acknowledged their own racist beliefs growing up and how they worked to dismantle them and now help others to do the same. It was exciting to hear that copies of their book were distributed to schools throughout our county.

Amy and I especially liked when Dr. Kendi talked about how we’re not taught how to be compassionate. How we’re taught to hate and judge other people. Compassion and empathy are things we should learn as young people, including the relationship between being compassionate and making social change.

That's definitely something we've done with our own children, to teach them compassion and empathy and to be the social change we all want to see. We want them to learn that from us and in school. And when all 1,300+ attendees at the event were asked to give a big round of applause to all the educators and students in the room, the rousing standing ovation was awe-inspiring. Knowledge may be power, for good and for bad, but empathic knowledge is empowering for all. 

Aglow With Healthy Choices

The only thing worse than telling a stressed out adult that everything's going to be okay is telling a stressed out teen that everything's going to be okay. There's a nuclear fission reactor inside teens that's constantly splitting emotional atoms that unleash inordinate amounts of overdramatic erratic and irrational energy.

And that's on a good day.

This body-changing and hormone-raging energy can run the gamut from frenetic to brooding and change in a millisecond. It's not that teens can't be rational and somewhat adult-ish in their daily disposition, because they can, but developmentally their frontal cortex is just coming online as everything else in their body changes. It's a whole new world for them, and for their adults in charge. When I think back to my teen years (and even through my 20's), there were seemingly countless stress-filled days and nights that completely altered my perception of reality. I split emotional atoms regularly and radiated myself with mind-melting anxiety that got worse as my teens wore on. 

Adults struggle with how to deal with radiating teens. My parents did their best to understand my sister and I and to talk to us rationally. They offered me sound but unrealistic advice on how to deal with stressing about a test, or a teacher, or trying out for sports, or a part-time job I had, or going to college, or a girl I liked, or -- the list goes on and on. It was unrealistic because developmentally I couldn't "adult it" like they could (or tried to), no matter the choices in front of me. Thankfully they never told me to just "deal with it."

And we'll never do that either. Whether it was last year when our oldest Beatrice worked through her angst about applying to be a junior leader and camp, and then doing it and loving it, or this year when our youngest Bryce recently wanted to audition for a youth theater production of Beauty and the Beast. And then she didn't. And then she did. And then she didn't. And then she did. And now she's loving it. It's hard to watch your kids stress out about things you believe ultimately they'll enjoy and will help them learn and grow, but stress they will. Plus, even with the competitiveness in growing up, we want them to enjoy what they choose to do, just like all the years I coached them both in soccer.

My wife Amy and I understand all this (or try to) and do our best to provide our daughters the strategies and tools to manage splitting their own emotional atoms and the choices they'll make (or won't). We can't prevent the anxious meltdowns from happening, no matter how much we'd like to, and no matter how trivial we think it is. Because to a teen, all things are far from trivial. We're also not going to tell them to just deal with it and/or get over it; that's just not realistic or even possible for them (or us as adults). Thankfully parenting with Kidpower and Positive Discipline has helped us traverse childhood's easy bake ovens to teen-land's nuclear reactors. 

However, we can't expect them to just do something because we think they should, no matter much we want to see them do it. Or force them to do it by shaming them or telling them they don't have a choice. Because they do. At least ours do. Understanding and applying choices, good or bad, are a big part of growing up, and our kids should have choices. Because choices can help them overcome their anxieties when they have the right tools and strategies. Finding their own way won't prevent them from stressing and radiating anxiety, but it will help them grow up aglow with healthy choices.

Because That's The Job

"A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us, 'No'
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming..."

–Disney's Aladdin 

But this isn't a Disney movie. It's just real life raising complex little humans -- now teenagers -- don't blink. The sentiment in the song is how they feel, though, and everything they're experiencing is a whole new world. For them and for us. 

I've been writing about my own personal experiences with parenting and personal leadership for over 15 years, how my own past impacted this journey, and all my learning and growth throughout. My wife Amy and I have mostly lead our lives together, and our parenting, with love and empathy and positive discipline, and of course, practicing social, emotional, and physical safety via Kidpower. Our children have been raised with all this, and for over four years we've had weekly family meetings to check in with each other and review managing emotions, providing support, positive communications, and safety plans.

It doesn't mean with get it all right with them, because we don't, but we're proud of our parenting to date and the closeness we have as a family. Change is constant, however, and now our kids are teens are new experiences are happening all the time for them. Thank goodness nothing close to what Amy and I experienced at 12, 13, and 14 years old (which I'm not telling you or them about). But then again, our kids are now at an age where they're not telling us everything either. Ugh. 

Not only that, they're sometimes embarrassed to be around us, their sarcasm has developed and is no longer their "inside voices," they fight us on doing their chores, they question a lot of what we comment on as adults, they're doing things they're not supposed to without asking us first, they're sometimes lying to us and not telling us everything, and who knows what's next. Thank goodness there's no experimentation with drugs, alcohol, or (God forbid) sex (yet), but school is getting harder and more competitive academically, extracurricularly, socially -- all the ly's -- and the stress has increased exponentially. Plus, the perception of that stress is skewed by a still developing prefrontal cortex, hormonal changes, new life experiences happening every day, and friend group influences happening every day. 

God, it's a wonder that any of us survived adolescence. 

In high school I had a civics teacher who read a passage to us all about how young people today are selfish, misguided, obstinate, sarcastic, emotional, have a lack of respect for their elders, etc. The passage had been written over 2,000 years ago during the Roman Empire. Over 2,000 years later, the point was, it could've been written today (by less forgiving adults).

Again, we're grateful to be so close as a family. That's helped us help our kids deal with new and stressful experiences that could lead to social and emotional struggles if left unchecked, something I went through as a teen that I certainly don't want them to go through. We don't always get it right as their parents, but we've worked hard to provide empathic love, support, and guidance to them -- to help them make good choices in all the choices they'll make more and more on their own each day (and there will be bad ones). Whatever this whole new world of adolescence brings us all, we'll always meet our teens where they're at to help them persevere, overcome, learn, grow, and thrive into adulthood. 

Because that's the job, kids. Happy New Year!