A Brighter Fiscal Future

Our annual property taxes arrived. I hesitated to open the envelope because I didn't want to see the total. Yes, it's a beautiful area where we live, but it's also one of the most expensive places to live in the U.S., for four years running, primarily due to housing costs (whether you purchase or rent). However, property taxes fund essential community services and public infrastructure, just like taxes at all levels of government are supposed to do.

When I opened the envelope, Beatrice stood near me and asked me what it was. So, I told her and showed her. She literally gasped. "That's a lot of money," she said.

"It is," I said. "But we're grateful to have this house." Because there was a time when we almost let it go. We haven't told them that story yet. 

She understands the value of money and finances better than she ever has for a young adult and even has a required personal finance course in her high school this semester (now required in California). We've started an investment account for her and her sibling Bryce. Beatrice has added to it with her own summer camp money she's earned the past few years. Bryce will to when they get a part-time job next year, we hope. 

Bryce has a much different relationship with money than Beatrice has, even though we've tried to instill a savings and a live-within-your-means mentality in both. Beatrice saves more while Bryce likes to spend more. We'll have to keep working on that one. 

The reality is that both kids are moving into the adulting zone. Bryce still has two and half more years of high school, but Beatrice is graduating high school this year and then will be off to college. Which will mean leaving on her own, with roommates, buying and cooking her own food (because going out will break the bank), and paying more of her own bills. Yes, we'll help both kids in college, but there are still financial responsibilities they'll have to manage. Financial aid and student loans, for example. If they open up their own credit card, they'll have to learn to not run a monthly balance, to pay it off each month. 

In college, I started a bad habit of running up credit cards and paying only the minimum payments, which barely touched the principal. That culminated in a disastrous financial reset 10 years later. Lots of lessons learned then that we want to impart on our kids when they're out doing their adulting. And even if they were to come back and live with us for a period of time, something that's quite common for young people these days in the current job market and economic uncertainty. 

It wasn't until I met Amy that I got myself back on track financially. We've both worked hard to save for retirement and for college as many families do. Yes, the markets have been crazy high with returns, but, with the backdrop of high inflation, high healthcare, high everything, combined with so much grift and corruption around us in big business and government, and the U.S. debt hitting 40 trillion and a debt-to-GDP ratio of 126%, I'm not sure what the future holds for our children. Or, their children if they choose to have them. 

We'll keep plugging away and instilling financial responsibility in our kids no matter what because we still believe in endless possibilities and manifesting a brighter fiscal future. The scarcity alternative just won't pay the bills. 

Big-Tent Friendships

The skinheads filmed us during the birthday party. Dozens of people in my parents’ house, partying it up, to celebrate our dear friend Robby's 21st birthday. Robby wanted them to film it, but that video is now gone forever.

I think. C'mon, give me a break; it was a long time ago and memories tend to morph into multiverses that may or may not exist. So, for this piece, I'm believe it did. 

They were skinheads, no doubt. That 1960's derivative of UK working-class pride that evolved into the 1970's and 1980's white power subcultures. They were always nice to me, and Robby of course because they were friends of his, but they did keep others we knew on edge (I just thought they were punk rock).

We all had a lot of fun over the years, these best friends of mine, with gravity's center being Robby. Robby who was a swimmer and water polo player in high school. Robby who broke his neck at a swim meet our senior year in high school, changing the trajectory of his life forever. Robby who became emotionally stuck in the spring of 1984. Robby who struggled with pain and day-to-day activities and his life-altering paralysis.

For decades we'd journey to Chico California to visit him. And not just my core group of friends -- Greg, Rob, and Craig -- but other longtime friend groups -- Charles, Donovan, another Greg, and another Craig. And many other men and women over the years. Robby had a pretty big circle of friends since high school; he connected with many flavors of humans over the years. There were those of us from our hometown of Visalia, and many others from Chico where he lived for over 35 years. There were old high school friends and water polo and swimmer friends and artist friends and rocker friends and plain Jane friends and even skinheads as mentioned above.

The list went on and on. When we held Robby's memorial in Visalia, many friends of the past joined us in celebrating Robby's life. Fast forward over a year later and a little bigger circle of friends got together in the Sierras and spent the weekend celebrating Robby, our friendships, our lives, and getting to know others we never really knew that well. And of course, teasing each other relentlessly, which has been our way for 45+ years. Our friend Donovan had made t-shirts for us that said "Robby Day Day" on the front with his birthdate and passing date on the back.

However, it's not all ribbing and guy talk; we're vulnerable with each other, too. Willing to share our highlights and hopes, and our funkiness and fears. Two of us have stopped drinking alcohol. One never drank. Two are retired. One's had open-heart surgery. We talked and laughed and talked and laughed a lot more. I grilled the meats all weekend and Rob and I drove the pontoon boat on the lake. 

We've been brothers to each other for decades, more so now than ever, and miss our brother Robby. We love each other and tell each other. I can't remember the countless phone calls with Robby where he'd end with "I love you, man", like the Paul Rudd and Jason Segel movie of the same name. They're friends who bond over their mutual adoration of the rock band Rush. Not too far off the mark for us either (especially for my friend Troy and me). 

Robby was an empathic big-tent friend sharing big-tent friendships with many. That's one of the many things that made him special. That's why I love watching our own children becoming big-tent friends with others in their social circles in high school with the hope that they'll have similar life-long friendships. And not just in high school either. In college, the workplace, and wherever they go and whatever they do. I do and my wife Amy does, too.

So, here's to big-tent friendships and the toast I made with my friends when we were together in the Sierras (or something like this): 

"Here’s to our torrid pasts, our playful presents (and presence), our bright futures — and to our friendships."

I love you guys. Blessings. 

• The Full Oliver Friendships
• All the Friendship in Between, with Love
• A Spirit Breaking Free
• Because There's Always A Promise
• A Longing for Loving Connection
• What Happens Next
• Superman's Love Letter
• Men of An Influencer Age
• Making a Dent
• A Long-Term Well-Being Win
• Men of a Stand-up Age
• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future
• Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work
• Big Heart Love to My Class of 1984
• Men of An Unremarkable Age
• Being What Happens Next
• Retro K: A treasure trove of golden memories friendship has forged

What I'm Grateful For

It's less often these days when we all want to do the same thing. Each of us is their own unique person with separate interests. And that's okay. 

My wife Amy and I are doing more things together without our kids. Our interests have overlapped for nearly 30 years since we met and we're revisiting some of them now that our kids are older. 

We're not empty nesters yet; our kids are still in high school. It's the precursor to that: they are old enough and responsible enough to stay by themselves for a few days here and there and we can venture out on our own.

Our oldest Beatrice goes to bed earlier like Mom and Dad do, but our youngest Bryce is a night owl. Both are busy with school, choir, theater, volunteering, and babysitting. We're busy with work, Amy with PTA, and me with the school board. They have their friends and we have ours.

However, one very important "same thing" we do together is dinner. With the exceptions of Amy and I having an evening meeting, or if I'm traveling for work, dinner is and has always been a sacred time for us. Sacred because it's an opportunity for all of us to share our day's happenings, the highlights (and sometimes lowlights), to discuss current events, to plan family events, and most importantly, share what each of us are grateful for. 

Ever since they were little, we've been sharing gratitude at dinner. Now that they're teens, sharing gratitude on a feeling-funky-off day isn't easy. Same goes for Mom and Dad. We have our own feeling-funky-off days, too. But it's non-negotiable; each one of us is required to share what they're grateful for, because there's always something to be grateful for. And because there's always something to be grateful for, it grounds us in the happy now, and what to look forward to in the potential of tomorrow. 

There are times when our kids say they have nothing to share. But we're patient and they eventually share. Again, it's non-negotiable for a reason. It's helps us all to reset to the now again, that we're all together sharing a meal, sharing our days, sharing our love, and it makes no never mind on what happens next. 

And what happens next after dinner can vary. After I do the dishes, I usually go play my drums in the garage. Amy and Bryce might what some TV together. Beatrice goes into her room to do homework. 

Occasionally, we all do something together. After dinner last night, Bryce asked us all to go for a walk. We all concurred. It was a warm September late summer night; the kind we get a lot of this time of the year. Not only did all four of us want to go for a walk, our dog Jenny did, too. Dogs are always up for going for a walk. 

Our cat Winston went with us, too. Not by choice, though. Bryce had wanted a cat backpack this year for their birthday and that's what they got. The first time Winston when in the backpack, he peed inside it. We didn't get upset because it was obviously stressful. He's an indoor cat and we rarely let him outside. 

Since that first time, he's gotten used to it, and just sits and smells and looks around at the big outside world he's never really known. So, Bryce loaded him up, I connected the leash to Jenny's collar, and off we went for a post-dinner walk around the block. 

As we walked and talked, the love for my family swelled my heart to the size of the setting sun. The setting sun we walked towards in the warm, pre-dusk evening. I didn't even want to take a picture, which I usually do (instead, I picked another sunset photo I've taken). 

No, I just wanted to stay in this moment with my family. We made these two amazing humans, I thought, and now they're making their own amazing ways. And we all still love doing things together. 

That's why I already know what I'm going to share tonight about what I'm grateful for. 

Mindful of Their Money

"...Big money goes around the world

Big money give and take

Big money done a power of good

Big money make mistakes..."

–Rush, Big Money

Our oldest Beatrice banked another big chunk of money. This was the third summer she's worked nearly full time as a camp counselor for a summer day camp in town. She loved working with the kids, but sometimes the days felt super long working with the 7- to 10-year-olds. 

Another big chunk of money banked, though. Four years ago, we opened mutual funds accounts for both our kids and explained the importance of saving for the future, including college and/or other life expenses. We contribute to them monthly and encouraged Beatrice to contribute the majority of her summer earnings to the account. Plus, she'll continue to babysit during the school year for extra cash. Our youngest Bryce hasn't been old enough to get a job yet and will be able to soon. Babysitting will not be one of them. 😆

Both kids also receive an allowance for weekly home chores. Bryce would spend it all immediately if we didn't make them save some of it. Beatrice has been much better at saving/spending her allowance and job money. Now that she's driving, she's helping to pay for her car insurance, which doubled our monthly rate. We want her driving, but now we understand why some parents don't want their kids driving as a teenager. The cost of any kind of insurance these days is definitely a future rant post. 

Financial literacy has been a priority for us to pass on to our kids. Something we didn't get much of growing up. Our parents did the best they could with what they had, and neither family had a lot, but we do wish we learned to be more fiscally responsible at an earlier age. I saved for my first car in high school and my parents co-signed a car loan for the rest of what I owed.

Things went south financially after high school. I did pay for most of my bumpy college ride, eventually and proudly receiving my degree. But, I began to sink myself deeper into credit card debt, which exponentially became worse during my first marriage. When I met my now wife Amy, I had no choice but to file for bankruptcy. The debt spiral I was in was of my own making (and my ex's). Since then, I've rebuilt my credit and we began saving for retirement and eventually our kids' futures. 

Part of that savings is to have a few months of emergency cash just in case. Less than half of U.S. adults have emergency money saved, so we're very grateful we've been able to save, period. We've had some tough financial times in the nearly 30 years we've been together. Those weren't without fights and relationship strains either, but we've always worked together to figure out what we needed to do. 

This is why financial literacy is so important for us and our kids. Beatrice met recently with our/her financial advisor, something that was unfathomable to me when I first met Amy. He explained how her money was being invested, what her return has been, and the importance of the longer-term investment strategy. Beatrice had relevant questions that he answered clearly and succinctly. We have no idea where financial adulting will take both our kids, but if we have anything to do with it, they'll be mindful of their money.

The First Day Is Never the Last

 "...From first to last
The peak is never passed
Something always fires the light
That gets in your eyes
One moment’s high
And glory rolls on by
Like a streak of lightening
That flashes and fades
In the summer sky..."

–Rush, Marathon

And then it's 11 years later.

From kindergarten and second grade to a sophomore and a senior in high school. 

Every year I take nearly the same first-day-of-school photo with our two kids, Beatrice and Bryce. It's in front of our house, the same house my wife Amy and me have lived in for 20 years. I had decided back way back when the kids started school that I didn't want to do the kids-holding-sign thing stating what year and class they were in. Partly because I didn't want to stress our kids out by holding a sign; I just wanted to capture the easiest first-day-of-school pictures I could, while getting Bryce to smile without sticking their tongue out.

Every year I take nearly the same photo, and it's been a blessing to experience how our kids have grown over time. It's also a blessing that they still let me take the first-day-of-school pictures. And it's been a continuous blessing of how much they enjoy school, more so that they're both in high school. When they were younger, they couldn't wait to show us their classrooms during open house. However, the first day of school wasn't always the best, and middle school had its lumpy bumps as a beautiful mess in progress. 

They've both found their community in high school theater and choir and couldn't wait this year for the first period of day 1, which was choir. We can't wait to watch the murder mystery play Beatrice is directing this fall and hear all the amazing choir concerts throughout the year. And then there's the choir festival next spring in Anaheim, which we'll again chaperone. The keyword here is Disney, of course. Hopefully Bryce will do another duet and/or solo this year, too. Plus, it's Beatrice's senior year. Nope, I'm not crying yet, but I will be.

It's 11 years later and our kids have grown exponentially, physically and emotionally. Yes, their prefrontal cortexes are still developing, but it's been a joy watching them develop while providing them nurturing guidance and becoming a stable through line to all their peaks and valleys. 

That's why I'm quoting Rush lyrics again from one of my favorite writers (and drummers), Neil Peart, who passed away in 2020. Not only because I saw the band play again this year with their new amazing drummer, and will see them again this fall, because the music still profoundly inspires me 44 years after becoming a super fan. Marathon is one of my favorite songs (the song quote above), although when asked what my favorites are, my response today is "all of them". Marathon captures the beauty of life over time when you live it to your fullest without burning out:

"...You can do a lot in a lifetime
If you don’t burn out too fast
You can make the most of the distance
First you need endurance —
First you’ve got to last..."

You just need the mindful endurance to last and to treat every moment as a blessing. To not fear failure or become weighted with regret. To always be learning and trying new things, to stretch your innate capacity for elasticity while curbing complacency. To never diminish the soul's sunlight burning bright within by embracing love and empathy from birth to passing. Amy and I have practiced and embodied all these things since before our kids, and have done our best to impart on them since having kids.

It's 11 years later, the age of adulting is here, and ultimately their journey is theirs to live, not ours. It's true that any day can feel like a first day, but the first day is never the last. 

The Age of Adulting

And then they were gone. For hours. Beatrice had driven away with Bryce in tow to go who knows where. Just to drive. To get something to eat. To hang out. I tried to not think about the fact that Beatrice now had her license and could drive by herself, much less drive with her sibling. But here we were. 

I texted a few hours later and Beatrice said they were good. She's a safe driver, but still a new driver still, so the worries don't subside easily. Plus, you always have to worry about all the other crappy drivers out there on the roads no matter now seasoned and skilled you are. 

It's exciting for her. It's helpful to us. It's bittersweet, nonetheless. Because adulting is happening faster now that she's driving, starting her senior year, evaluating colleges, and more. For my wife Amy and I, it turns the photo memories that come up on our phones of when both kids were little into loving reminisces.

Besides the driving lessons we paid for, Amy and I helped Beatrice practice for her driving test. We went through the driving checklists she'd have to answer and practiced driving near the DMV where the test would happen. 

Amy took her the day of her driving test. I had work calls but kept in touch via text. Although they were on time, the driving tester wasn't, and they had to wait an extra 45 minutes before it was Beatrice's turn. She managed her stress, though; Amy and I were more frustrated for her, and me for both having to wait.  

I remember the day I took my driving test at the DMV. My mom took me and was very supportive. My stress was palatable but the entire experience didn't take very long. And I had to parallel park, which they didn't require Beatrice to do. I did it all and passed the test. Afterwards, I held my temporary license tightly in my hand. My mom was supposed to drop me off at school and then go back to work. Instead, she drove all the way back home and told me I could take the car to school. My face flushed with freedom and independence and I still couldn't believe she let me drive to school. 

Amy texted that Beatrice was finally with the driving tester. I felt confident she'd pass. I just hoped she stayed focused and confident. 

About 20 minutes later, Beatrice texted us all proudly: "I PASSED!!"

The total increase in our car insurance premiums aside (crazy calculus!), we're grateful that Beatrice has her license now, and we're confident she'll continue to be a safe and sound driver. Bryce isn't too far behind and has already started driver training online. (And then more crazy insurance calculus.)

Hours later when they returned from Beatrice's first solo drive, all I could think about was our little babies who were little babies no more. Beatrice doesn't need us to take her places anymore. Soon Bryce won't either. There's still much for them to learn and experience, but the age of adulting is here to stay.

On Making Good Choices

It was funny / not funny the way she said it. The researcher giving us the tour of the Sunflower Star Laboratory in Moss Landing shared how a warming Pacific Ocean decimated the Sunflower Star and other species starting in 2013. 

She talked about how their research is helping to repopulate the sea stars, and how one of the Sunflower Stars they raised ended up dying because of "bad choices", and not because of the warm blob of ocean as they've called it. Bad choices because the Sunflower Star ate some bad shellfish (the bad being the bacteria in it). That was the funny / not funny. The shellfish contained bacteria that made it sick and die. Same thing that can happen in humans, too, but the way she said it was almost like saying it was a teen making a bad choice. 

The rest of the tour was fascinating, and our youngest Bryce and I asked many questions of the researcher. Bryce had wanted to go on this tour because marine biology has fast become their passion and a future career. They currently volunteer at the Seymour Marine Discovery Center, teaching young kids (and adults) about Swell Sharks and how to touch them in the touch pool, among many other responsibilities. It's special for my wife Amy and I because that's where we were married way before having kids. 

Amy had a company meeting that day, so I took Bryce to Moss Landing to do the Sunflower Star Laboratory tour, and to check out the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI) open house that was going on. That was also very cool to learn more about the research they do, the submersibles they use, and Bryce asked about internships, something they could apply for in college. 

Before Bryce and I went to Moss Landing, that same morning I took our oldest Beatrice driving near the DMV where she'll be taking her driving test soon to get her license. She's been banking the practice hours to be ready to pass the test. Both Amy and I have let her drive with her permit to incrementally add to her experience. Never in a rush to get her license when she turned 16, Beatrice has because a solidly cautious driver, which we're grateful for. 

Driving is stressful enough for experienced drivers like Amy and me, but for a new driver ready practicing to get her license, it's super stressful. What adds to that stress is Mom and Dad giving feedback to their child. While it can sound like we're judging her driving, we're just trying to give constructive feedback. That doesn't always translate, though, especially when we know there are inexperienced decisions she'll need to make every time she gets behind the wheel.

This practice drive was no different. I've told her time and again that I can get fussy, which she knows all too well, but I'm not yelling at her. However, she perceives it as yelling. That perception gets amplified because I am telling her what she did wrong and what she should do instead. Then combine that with trying to remember hundreds of things at once when driving amplifies it even further. We don't blame her for getting defensive, just as long as she continues to develop her defensive driving skills overall. 

We always want our children to make good choices in whatever they're learning or doing in life. Good choices to us anyway. Who would've thought that phrase -- "make good choices" -- would become as iconic as it did. Thank you Disney and the 2003 Freaky Friday movie. According to Jamie Lee Curtis, who played Dr. Tess Coleman in the 2003 Freaky Friday film, "Make good choices!" is the only line she has ever improvised in her entire career.

What's funny about that is sometimes our improvisations are the only choices to make in the moment, where the magic can come from. And sometimes they're not. "Listening to your heart" as the expression goes is only as good as prefrontal cortex executive functioning, which ain't great in teens (and unfortunately a lot of adults I've known over the years). 

Whether it's following a career passion or learning something complicated and new like driving, we're grateful our kids mostly make good choices. Until they don't, and then we're there for them to coach them through all the bad choices we've already learned from (I think). 

We know it's not always that clear cut, and sometimes a bad choice can become a happy accident (no driving pun intended). You just gotta get the heart and mind to align either way. And probably best to skip the shellfish. 

To Take Their Mother's Lead

One of the best things we've done for our kids, besides the positive discipline parenting, the Kidpower parenting, the empathic parenting, is to let them be and become.

Meaning, to let them become who they already were, are, and will be. 

Of course, we've had our own thoughts on what we've wanted them to become, but never at the expense of their own decision making. Their own mistakes. Their own regrets. They own successes. 

A teen's prefrontal cortex is still in its infancy, and it has until later in the 20's to fully develop. This means that teens often rely on the amygdala, which is the emotional center, and that leads to heightened emotions, risk-taking, and impulsive behavior.

But that doesn't mean they can't learn the coping mechanisms they'll need to deal with the adulting stressors of life that have only just begun. Because it begins in childhood today, no matter how loving and supportive you are as parents.

Kids can be more resilient than most parents think they can. We struggled and stressed about our own kids' struggles and stresses about their own social anxieties and mental health. At some point, both have had their own breakthroughs; they've adapted, overcome, and are thriving. These are great personal leadership skills to develop and practice whatever those "anxieties" are. That includes us the parents getting them whatever supports and resources they may need at the time they need. 

Kids can also know more about who they are and how they identify than most parents want to believe. That makes it hard for adults who have specific beliefs and ideologies about who their children are and who they should be. Sexual orientation and gender identity, for example. Our youngest was clear when they told us they were queer and identified as they/them. We've been nothing but supportive parents, and staunch allies, ever since. They were even nominated for a youth leadership award this year for the march they organized last year. 

Before we wanted to have children, it was my wife Amy who opened me up to endless possibilities with our lives. To always look at life through eyes of love without judgement or shame. To learn and adapt as best I could. That was hard at first, but I got there. 

When we changed our minds about children, then we were all in on being the best parents we could be. That they would learn to embrace and manifest endless possibilities that we believe in. That we would guide them and teach them as best we could. Again, they have to develop their own decision making. Make their own mistakes. Own their own successes. And hopefully learn to limit regrets. 

That's a constant work in progress, and no matter what, one of the best things we've done for our kids is to let them be and become. 

One of the best things I've done for myself and our kids is to take their mother's lead. For that, we are all grateful. 

Happy Mother's Day.

Because it's all "fire", dude

I told our kids I really was in men's glee in junior high, and then in choir in high school. They wanted proof. High school was easy because, there I was, styling a tux in the yearbook pictures from freshmen through junior years. 

But when I looked in my junior high yearbook, I wasn't in the group picture. Why I don't remember. Maybe I was at a math competition that day. Something else that would've conflicted with the taking of the group picture. Not only I wasn't in the picture, my name wasn't listed either. That was an unfortunate oversight somewhere along the line. Mr. Hannah, our junior high choir teacher, surely would've included my name in the listing.

"Dad, you weren't in men's glee; you're not in the picture," our youngest Bryce.

"Yes, I was," I protested. Why wasn't I in there? I thought.

"You're not in there, Dad," our oldest Beatrice said. 

"C'mon, Dad," my wife Amy said.

"I thought you were an athlete, a brain, and in student government," Bryce said. "You were a nerd, Dad. Except when you were in detention. That was cool."

That's a story our kids love: the fact that when I was student body president, I received lunch detention for too many first period tardies. One of the other kids in detention has said to me, "Dude, aren't you the president?"

Yes. Yes, I was. The kids always laugh at that. 

I continued to defend myself about being in men's glee. Then I had an idea -- I had a cassette recording from men's glee in junior high that Mr. Hannah had recorded and made for all of us and our families. 

"I have proof," I said. "Listen to this."

I pushed play on the only working cassette player we have. Young teenage boys' voices sang an old standard like Erie Canal. 

I stopped the tape. "See?" I said. "I was in men's glee."

The kids laughed. "How do we know you were one of them?"

Sigh. They weren't wrong. I really was in men's glee. No, really. 

Today both our teens are in high school choir and love it -- and we love watching them sing! Bryce has been in choir since middle school and this is Beatrice's first year. Since last fall, they've been excited about their spring trip to a music festival in Anaheim, CA. And so have we. 

Because Disneyland. 

Don't get me wrong -- we really enjoy hearing all the kids sing. They are amazing. But c'mon, it's Disneyland. We've been taking our kids to Disneyland since they were three and five years old. So, we volunteered to be chaperones. Over 50 kids in total and 8 chaperones between two high schools. 

It was wonderful listening to all the high school choirs sing throughout the festival day, especially our two high schools (and especially our kids' choir). There were over 30 choirs from multiple states that participated. Brilliant song choices and inspired singing. These music directors are doing amazing things with these kids who sounded more like professional adult singers than teens. 

As a parent, it's been quite the bumpy joy ride living it all over again through our teens' experiences -- and all the kids on the choir festival trip. Their boisterous energy, anxieties, friendships, camaraderie, teasing, occasional indiscriminate F-bombs, and Gen Z slang flooded the bus on our way to the Anaheim music festival. Our high school choirs performed admirably and won all gold awards. 

Amy and I and all the chaperones powered through with the kids, eating dinner with our hands at Medieval Times, cheering for all the choirs at the awards ceremony (with Mickey, Minnie, Merlin, and friends), finishing off the 10+ mile hike throughout Disney until it closed, and staying up until midnight each night doing room checks. We were all exhausted but elated on the bus ride home. 

"Are you 'locked in', Dad?" Bryce said to me when we left, leveraging some Gen Z slang.

"It's 'fire', dude," I answered. It means something is really good, impressive, or exciting. That always makes our kids smile. 

Because it's all "fire", dude. And that always makes us smile. 

Our Family Bonding Present

I could see her there. Studying. Socializing. Working. It wasn't literally about the specific colleges we visited during spring break, just the fact that in less than two years she'd be going to college. Maybe it'll be a four-year college, or it will be two years of local junior college first. That's a decision yet to be made, although she's very interested in going away.

Exciting and bittersweet all at the same time. Our oldest Beatrice is a junior in high school and wants to be a teacher someday, elementary and/or middle school, so she's eyeing a credential program along with the four-year degree, maybe even an MA in education. We're looking at the California CSU and UC systems since we live here.

Visiting campuses brought back a lot of memories for both my wife Amy and me. Neither of us had a traditional four-year college experience. Amy went to a junior college for one year and then transferred to the University of North Carolina Wilmington. I started at my local community college, dropped out, then went to San Jose State University a year later. After a rocky first two and half years, I took a break, was already working full time, and then returned to finish with honors while working full time taking a full load of classes. Neither of us work directly in the fields our degrees represent, which is common for many college grads. We're grateful we still have them.

Both of us still have friends from those days. One of my best friends from college, Troy, has been my Rush (the band) touring buddy for decades. We're super excited to see Rush again this summer together. We were in the TKE fraternity together at SJSU and have many fun and fond memories from our college days, and the years since. We even ran into his ex and two of his kids on one of the college tours! Also, during our college trip we stopped at a deli called Grossman's (my last name but no relation as far as I knew) and the manager noticed my Rush t-shirt and said his head chef played drums in a Rush cover band. Synchronicity indeed. 

That's something both Amy and I are grateful for from our college experiences besides the education and our respective degrees. The fact that we found lifelong friendships. As we toured the college campuses with Beatrice, I pictured her walking to the student union with her friends, to class, to the dorms, to all the college haunts I remember from my time. 

Of course, college isn't for everyone and not the only options for future careers, and the world of work is changing in exciting and scary ways (AI is one of those ways and our kids aren't happy about it). But the careers that both our kids want to pursue -- teaching for Beatrice and marine science for Bryce -- will involve college and eventually embracing AI tools and systems.

Although those are life experiences yet to come, I can still see her there. This trip provided us with a glimpse of Bea's college future while staying grounded in our family bonding present. And that's always the greatest gift of all. 

We All Have A Problem

"You both have a problem."

We sat in our living room listening to our youngest Bryce explain to my wife Amy and I that we spend too much time on social media. Not only that, they told me I joke too much about artificial intelligence (AI) and use it too much as well. And the fact that AI is destroying the future for them, their sibling Beatrice, and all their friends. AI is altering education, the job market, and the energy required to power AI is destroying the environment. Both our kids are worried about it all.

And they're not wrong. But first, social media. Amy and I aren't on social media as much as we used to be and my weekly iPhone usage totals validate that (even though Bryce says we are). True, we both scroll for entertainment, but we aren't viewing individual pages much at all anymore, and while I post these articles I write here weekly, and a fun photo or drumming video now and again, our time online is minimal. 

The irony here is that we've allowed our kids to have their own social accounts since they were 13. Since then, there's been enough research that shows how addictive and destructive social media can be for kids, teens, and yes, adults. We monitored what they view online when they were younger and check in periodically now that they're older. They're mostly on YouTube and we're not fans of some of their content, but we've approved and they've also done a good job of limiting their screen time.

If we could go back and have them wait until they were 16, 17, even 18? Maybe. That might've been a better move, but they're both managing to limit their time, get their schoolwork done, socialize with their friends (and us), and engage in activities that have nothing to do with screens. Also, any emotional and psychological struggles they've had as teens wasn't directly related to social media as far as we're concerned. 

However, for many other kids and families it has been a big problem. Both Meta and Google lost a major social media addiction lawsuit recently because of this big problem. And there's more than likely a lot more to come. Will it change the way these platforms are run? Skeptics don't think so; parents hope so. Maybe it's just easier to not let kids start in the first place and for the parents to stay off. What was always billed as a way to stay connected has done more to isolate and disconnect. Amy and I are definitely considering staying off and going back to phone calls and letter writing to stay in touch with family and friends. 

Then there are the Chromebooks our kids have been using since middle school. The pandemic led to more tech use due to distance learning (Google Classroom). Big Tech companies -- primarily Google, Microsoft, and Apple -- have invested billions of dollars in cash, free software, training, and heavily discounted hardware to secure their position in the K-12 education market, a sector where tech spending reached $30 billion in 2024 alone. 

There are software safeguards, but too many kids have figured out how to circumvent and access YouTube and lots of inappropriate content. School districts across the country and now reducing their dependence on tech and the use of it in the classroom. Our own school district is looking at all this now. Thankfully our children have limited their usage of their school laptops to schoolwork.

AI is a tougher one for me as an employed parent. I work for a software company and we do provide AI features in our platform. Plus, I use AI every day to help me with work productivity. Like many new technologies I've had access to in the workplace since before public internet, I've always been an early adopter. That also included social media in the mid to late 2000's. 

AI is different. Will be different. At first, I wanted AI to be banned in schools because of the fear of plagiarism and the impact on critical thinking (which is happening), but then we went the other way with seeing value in some AI tools for kids to study with and learn from, especially high schoolers. 

The jury's still out on this one, though. Plus, lots of folks -- economists, tech pundits, naysayers, people struggling to find work -- all have different opinions on how much displacement it will have on the future job market for our kids, and what jobs it will literally destroy and possibly create.

Like every technology disruption before mainstream AI, we've always found a way to adjust in the workplace. For example, when my wife and I first dated in the late 1990's, we traveled as much as we could. Everywhere we went, we used paper maps and road atlases. We never really thought much about it; we grew up using paper maps and that was how we navigated travel.

Then came MapQuest, a free online mapping service, and navigating the world changed forever. However, many people early on printed the maps out from MapQuest to use, including us. Then came Google Maps and GPS and navigating the world changed yet again, forever.

Paper maps are still available, but for those displaced who worked in the printed map-making world, what happened to them? Were they displaced forever? Absorbed into the online map/GPS world? Into other industries? This may seem like an inconsequential example, but every disruption is consequential. 

These are similar questions HR/TA leader Jan Tegze asked with unsettling clarity. The difference being, earlier technology disruptions took decades to transform, displace, and reabsorb those impacted. Hundreds of years in fact moving from paper maps to smart phones, GPS, and apps. What happens to all the workers when AI transforms in a fraction of the time?

If you haven't read Anthropic's Labor market impacts of AI research (makers of Claude), you should. Some of the highlights include "workers in the most exposed professions are more likely to be older, female, more educated, and higher-paid" and "there's suggestive evidence that hiring of younger workers has slowed in exposed occupations".

So again, what happens to all the workers when AI transforms and displaces in a fraction of the time? Will they be reabsorbed, or not? There's a lot of uncertainty ahead for our kids.

When Bryce told us, "You both have a problem", it turned into a much bigger conversation. It's clear that we all have a problem with where we're at today with social media, technology, AI, and our children's futures. Not to mention a changing job market, inflation, rising energy costs, climate change, limited affordable housing, geopolitical instability, authoritarianism, diminished rights, extreme polarization, bigotry -- I could go on, but I think we're all painfully aware of what's happening around the world today. And what's happening down the street. 

When our family marched in protest with millions of others this weekend, it was about all of the things above for us. Our kids just want a better world. Blessings for our freedom to fight for it and make real impactful and positive change. 

Unconditionally

The words "unconditional love" dislodged wonderful multiple memories from my brain. They fell into my heart like happy kids into an inviting pool. As each memory hit my heart's waterline, my breathing hitched and the tears came. I sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes.

"Are you crying" my wife Amy asked.

I nodded and sobbed. She took my hand.

I didn't expect this reaction, sitting at a celebration of life for the father of one of my wife's good friends. Her friend was sharing some memories about her father and then she told us all that her dad loved her and her brother unconditionally. That he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported them through good times and bad. 

And that made me remember my father and his unconditional love for me and my sister. He passed away in 2012. 

I couldn't stop the tears; he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported us through good and bad times as well. It's not that our mom didn't do some of the same, but it was more complicated with her and us. She passed away four months after our dad, shortly after I took her home to Oregon.

I couldn't stop the tears. Amy squeezed my hand. I then thought about the day before when we were at another memorial for one of my dear friend's mother who had recently passed. She loved life and lived it to its fullest. She found and embraced as much joy as possible throughout her life and encouraged her family to do the same. 

And that's Amy to us, me and our children. I squeezed her hand.

Amy's friend finished her eulogy. My tears continued. I remember at the end of high school when I finally broke down and told my parents about my past, my current emotional state, and my crippling anxieties, anxieties that I was not equipped to talk about in any rational way prior to that moment. Prior to that moment I had become cynical about unconditional love, not believing there was such a thing. But in that moment, both parents held me and told me they loved me and that they'd help me figure it out. I'll never forget that. 

Our kids have had some of their own emotional struggles as teens, and we're grateful they've been able to share with us. Each time we listen and hold them and tell them we love them and we'll help them figure it out by empowering them to do so.

My tears kept coming as the celebration of life for Amy's dear friend's father continued. Those in attendance were given party hats because he wanted it to be a celebration. But losing someone dear brings sadness, and Amy's friend told us all, "The tears are worth it."

I wondered what my children would say about me someday after I was gone. I know that's morbid, but after reliving my own's father love as I sat there, I already knew the answer before I even asked myself the question: they would say he gave his love freely, kept communication open, and supported us through good times and bad.

Unconditionally. 

Finding Joy

I knew immediately she wasn't a conference attendee. Not so much based on what she wore, clothes I remember seeing at Grateful Dead shows in the late 1980's. Colorful, loose-fitting shirt and pants. A little dingy, but no body odor smell. She had a small, kind face, tan and leathered, but I assumed she was only in her forties. She also didn't have on a conference badge, so that was telling. 

She stopped in from our table in the exhibit space eyeing the LEGO figures we had on display. They were part of our fun giveaway; attendees could build their ideal job candidate with the Legos and then we'd talk with them about optimizing their candidate and experience. Our company, Survale, helps companies improve their recruiting, hiring, and retention, through candidate and employee experience feedback. 

"How's the conference going for you so far?" I asked. I instantly felt bad asking her that, knowing that she wasn't attending.

"Great," she said. 

I wasn't surprised she said this. She was eating one of the tapioca deserts they had served at lunch. 

"The tapioca's good, isn't it," I said.

"Yes. Can I build one?" she said, referring to the LEGO people. 

"Of course," I said. 

My co-workers engaged with her as well as she built her first LEGO person. We all knew she wasn't attending the conference.

One of them asked her about the conference, and she said, "Oh, I'm not attending. I was just walking down the beach and saw this event. I came over and had some lunch and now I'm building a Lego person."

As she built her person, her face awakened with determined joy. There weren't a lot of parts to build these Lego people, but she methodically took her time, selecting and re-selecting the legs, body, head, hair, and accessory the figure would hold. 

She finished and I told her it looked great. Then she asked, "Can I build another one?"

"Sure, please do," I said. 

More determined joy. The exhibiting part of the conference was almost over, so we gave her the space and the time to build. 

One of our team asked to take her picture putting the Legos together. Her joy drained away and she looked concerned. "No, I don't think so," she said. But she ultimately agreed when she didn't have to look directly at the phone camera, that it was just for our marketing team.

When she was done with her second figure, she started to walk away, paused, her eyes fixated on the Legos still, and then turned to face us again.

"Can I just do one more?" she asked.

"Of course," I said. 

After the stranger left our table, I realized I never asked what her name was, nor did I share mine. I knew nothing else about her -- whether she was unemployed and/or unhoused; whether she had a criminal past or not; whether she was alone or had her own family; whether she had physical and/or mental health issues. 

What I did know is that for a few moments, she found intentional joy in putting together the LEGO people, and we encouraged her to do it, without shame or judgement. A simple moment of empathic humanity.

I also knew she was someone's daughter, and that made me think about our own daughters, and their adult lives that have yet to unfold. Supposedly humans make over 35,000 decisions each day equating to nearly a billion decisions in a lifetime. Because adulting is hard, we've encouraged our kids to consciously manifest a happy and healthy life. But there will unforeseen circumstances to deal with and poor decisions will be made along the way. Hopefully fewer and farther in between than we experienced, especially me. 

If there's one thing I believe we've imparted on them to date, it's finding joy in everything they do. Always. Intentionally. Unequivocally. Joy.

Another Mile Marker

 "...Wind

In my hair

Shifting and drifting

Mechanical music

Adrenaline surge..."

–Rush, Red Barchetta

When I turned 16, I couldn't wait to drive. The freedom of it. Driving to and from school. Cruising the main strip. Cranking up the rock and roll and speeding down a country road. I knew it was a much different mode of transportation than riding a bike or walking, always being a passenger up until then, but there was something transformative about driving myself and others around.

I didn't understand the full responsibility of driving until many years after I got my driver's license. That makes sense; most kids don't fully grasp the potential dangers of driving around a 4,000-pound machine moving at 60+ mph. Or even 10 mph. 

I couldn't wait. Back when I was in high school, driver's training was still offered as a class, complete with all the bloody accident videos explaining the dangers of driving under the influence. A scared-straight approach, which at the time, worked for me. At least until after high school. 

But not every kid is excited to drive when they turn 16. And that's okay. Our oldest Beatrice was like that, thinking about driving, but not ready to do it just yet. Instead, taking the city bus sometimes or riding my e-bike that I never ride. She went from no interest in driving to some interest to studying and studying for her driver's permit.

And then after one speed bump:

"Dad, I passed! I got my permit!"

That call I received on Beatrice's way home from the DMV with Mom. Since then, we've scheduled her driver's training, which is not offered through high school today, and we have to pay for. We've also been taking her driving so she can get her permit hours in so she can take her driver's license test this summer.

Each drive Beatrice gets a little more comfortable and confident, but it's still overwhelming when you're learning. As parents, we live our past coming of age over and over again, from childhood to teen-land, offering guidance and advice along the way based on our own lessons learned. Learning to drive is one of those we remember well. 

The morning my mom took me to get to take my driving test for my license, I had a butterfly convention rocking my stomach. In the blink of an eye, it was over, and I had passed. My mom proceeded to drive us back home again. I asked her why, since I thought she was going to drop me off at school, and she answered, "Because you're going to drive yourself to school today." That was something I'll never forget.

We're helping Beatrice learn to drive now that she has her permit, and soon her sibling Bryce will be ready to go (and who wants to drive yesterday). Driving with "fussy" Dad is more stressful than "calm" Mom, but we know that Beatrice appreciates all the help from both of us. We look forward to both Beatrice and Bryce driving themselves around, and us, but we don't look forward to our insurance rates increasing dramatically. 

Another mile marker in our lives is here, and there's no looking back, except when checking your mirrors, kids. Don't ever forget that part.

The Abundance Mindset

The Alice in Wonderland ride at Disneyland is one of our favorites. When our kids were little, though, it was a little scary for them, but eventually they came to love it. Our oldest Beatrice especially. 

Although Disney has a reputation of sanitizing classic stories, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland included, the silliness and absurdity of Wonderland is still captured in the Disney animated movie and the ride. The novel by Lewis Carroll was about the transition from the innocence of childhood to the confusing complexities and contradictions of adulthood. It explored an absurd dream world that often mirrored anxieties about growing up and societal rules. Alice ultimately represents the sensible individual navigating absurdity. 

Funny how that works. That's how I felt growing up. That's how I feel now. Yes, I created my own anxious absurdity over the years from young adulthood to my early 30's that I struggled to overcome at times. I always thought the universe conspired against me; that God conspired against me. I grew up in scarcity, believing that everything was limited and out of my reach.

But thanks to my own mindful awakening, and my wife Amy's spiritual guidance, I realized the universe is nothing but abundance. That there's nothing but endless potential, resources, love, and opportunities that exist for everyone. That even with the chaotic and dangerous societal absurdity everywhere today, we can navigate it, push back on it, thrive in it, let it go, and express gratitude for the choices we make every day. 

We impart the abundance mindset on our two teens regularly, at least Amy does more consistently, and that's helped them with their own anxieties about growing up. I still trip periodically over my scarcity past and revert, causing me undue angst and stress. I recognize it even as I'm doing it, which is why I can thankfully rebound quickly. Both Amy and I grew up with very little and we're grateful today for what we have today and what we can provide to our children. We also recognize our privilege, too, knowing there are many marginalized families that struggle to make ends meet in our community. 

Which was why we were happy to attend the Mad Hatters Ball — Raíces y Cariño Gala, a fundraiser for the organization that helps local lower-income families experience health, safety, and joy in our community. It was fun dressing up in the "Alice in Wonderland" theme, play silly games, and listen to some amazing young people sing, all for a great local cause. 

This holiday season, avoid the rabbit holes, embody the abundance mindset, and pay it forward however you can. Blessings to you and yours this holiday season. 

The Sun's Love

Hearing them sing The Rose made me teary and it had been years since I'd heard it. When the joint choirs sang a mashup of Amanda McBrooms's The Rose with the Praetorius Lo, How a Rose, arranged by Craig Hella Johnson (which I had never heard of), I had forgotten how much I used to love The Rose.

The Rose was the theme song to the 1979 movie by the same name, loosely based on Janis Joplin's life and starring Bette Midler. She also sang the song The Rose. I was in 8th grade at the time, and I remember hanging out at a friend's house with other friends where we practiced singing different songs, one of which was The Rose. I don't remember why we were practicing (maybe for 8th grade choir?), but that song has always made me teary, even before I fully understood the lyrics.

It was such a wonderful way to end the joint community college and our kids' high school choir performance. Both our kids, Beatrice and Bryce, are in choir and theater and loving both. They've found "their tribes" who have embraced them and vice-versa. 

One of my tribes back in the day was also choir. Both in junior high and high school. Music has always been important to me (and my wife Amy and our kids). Music fills me with reverence. Singing elevates my spirit. (And so does drumming!)

We're so very grateful watching our teens grow, thrive, and become who they are. It hasn't all been a bed of roses, though; in their short lives they've had their own share of thorny trials. Each of us has to experience our own journeys, to meet head on our moments of highs and lows, and our children are no exceptions. 

As parents, we are their guardians and their guides, supportive and loving, but we can't live their lives for them. Don't want to live their lives for them. We've already grown up once and that was bittersweet enough. Instead, we continue to impart the wisdom learned from our own lives. Because we're always learning how to keep growing and thriving. Easier in the best of times. Not so much in the worst. But even winter hearts can birth springtime souls. 

"Is Dad crying again?" our kids ask regularly. 

Yes, yes he is. Let's listen to The Rose again, kids. This Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for the sun's love.

"...When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose..."

Light Up to the Music

Bryce expected me to say no. I'm known as the fussy dad who always says no. But I didn't. Not this time anyway. They wanted to go to a youth Halloween concert and fundraiser being put on by a local music school called Be Natural Music at an amazing local venue called Felton Music Hall, and one of Bryce's good friends was singing in one of the bands. Bryce asked me if we could go. And I said yes.

To be fair, Bryce knew I loved music as much as they did, and because the concert was local, I said yes. Our whole family loves music. My wife Amy and I are six years apart in age but love most of the same music from the 1970's, 1980's, and beyond. Both Bryce and our oldest Beatrice are in the high school choir, and their love of popular music as kids has morphed into a love of alternative, punk, rock, and more as teens. 

The music we loved growing up throughout adolescence became the permanent coming-of-age soundtracks of our lives, from positive heart thumpers to bittersweet soul crushers and throughout the spectrum in between. Our kids are experiencing the same thing now with their music, with an added plus: enjoying some of the same music we grew up on. And some of their new music we're digging, too.

A few weeks before the youth concert, I celebrated my 60th birthday. We had a wonderful celebration with family and friends and Bryce wanted to play the guitar and sing. They were nervous and we weren't sure they'd do it, but do it they did. And it was wonderful. 

They also wore a Rush t-shirt, too. In fact, they've taken many of my Rush t-shirts and wear them proudly. Beatrice still has one of my old Rush sweatshirts she wears once in a while, too. Neither of them like Rush's music, but even without knowing their music as intimately as I do, they do understand the spirit of individualism, critical thinking, learning, levity, empathy, and love. The kids are in luck, because I'll be buying more merch at the Rush Fifty Something tour happening next year. Never say never. 

Bryce and I had a rockin' good time at the youth concert. Each band played three songs, but what I wasn't expecting was the quality of the musicianship and the singing. Bryce's friend belted out The Weight by The Band and two other songs, including Fire on the Mountain by The Grateful Dead. Cover after cover, these kids rocked The Police, Ozzy Osbourne, Fleetwood Mac, and so much more. 

What's old is new again. Watching Bryce light up to the music and their friend singing lit me up (naturally, of course); I know they want to be on stage someday. They actually already have sang solos via choir, but now the goal is to play the guitar and sing on stage. I've also asked Bryce if they wanted to jam in the garage with me and my drums -- still working on that one. 

It was nice to see and feel all the musicians at the youth concert light up to the music they were playing. I lit up. The audience lit up. The place was rocking. Our kids need the music more than ever these days. Oh, blessed rock and roll. Thank you for always coming through.

A Future That Works

Our oldest Beatrice is a junior in high school this year and college discussions have become a priority. When I started writing about our family, before Beatrice was born, I never really envisioned this moment. Talking about college, I mean. The same is true for our youngest Bryce, but they're a freshman and have a few years yet. The public high school they go to has what's called the Excel Block Schedule. This means students take 90-minute classes each day, which are equivalent to year-long classes in the more traditional two-semester system. Talk about nice prep for the college talks.

And both kids have their eyes on college, too. Beatrice primarily wants to be a teacher and Bryce wants to be a marine biologist. What we think we aspire to be and what really happens are always initially parallel lines that may diverge at some point and head in directions they never imagined. That happened to both their mom and me. Amy wanted to be a marine biologist and I wanted to be an architect and then a psychologist -- and we're nowhere near those professions. 

And that's okay, because both Amy and I lived our lives and figured out who we were and what we wanted to do professionally. We've been together for 28 years now, which is over half of Amy's life since we met. There is truth to feeling motivated and passionate about the work you do, but the reality is that you still try to balance that with making enough of a living to provide for your family and then some. 

And then some to be able to help send them to college, with or without financial aid, and/or help them explore other career opportunities. Beatrice could also be an artist someday and Bryce a musician, both things they love to do. Or maybe a trade could be a choice since a lot of private equity investment has been poured into plumbing, HVAC, and many other trades. 

So, I took Beatrice to college night at our local community college. Not only was the community college highlighting their programs and the value of starting there and then transferring to another university, there were dozens of other universities represented from California and other states. Beatrice felt like she wasn't asking the right questions, but she did just fine. I coached her a little and asked my own questions of the college representatives on site. 

It's been quite the journey watching them both grow up into early adulthood. College night was a kick because it was just me and Beatrice talking about life today and where it was headed tomorrow. I shared my bumpy college experience with her, how I went from nearly not finishing to finishing with honors, and talked about how Mom went to a junior college first and then transferred to a university. Beatrice and I shared yummy food truck gyros and falafels onsite and then made the rounds in the gym talking to the different colleges represented. I thought, this is the beginning of talking with our children like the adults they're becoming, and I felt blessed and super grateful. 

More so since in an ever-increasing dystopian world where the abnormal continues to polarize and is normalized, where artificial intelligence is fundamentally changing everything around us, and the greater rest of us long for more peaceful middle-of-the-road days swirling past. Today, our children look tentatively hopeful at a very scary future. But one where they control their narrative as much as they can that will hopefully have a positive impact on their lives and the lives around them. As we drove home, I wished for a future that works for them. For us all. 

The Autonomy Train

I slept restlessly for the first two hours with my cell phone near my head. My wife Amy was already long asleep, knowing I would be checking if they needed a ride home from the homecoming dance. I checked a few times to see if there were any messages from our teens but there were none. Before I finally fell back asleep for the final time that night, I thought I had heard them come home, and all was right with our world. 

We're at a point now where we want our kids to have more autonomy, independence, and more problem-solving skills to figure out what to do in life without our direct parental intervention. We've given them plenty of emotional, psychological, and physical safety skills over the years thanks to Kidpower, and we continue to reinforce those safety skills continuously, teen eye rolls and all. This includes always understanding what the "safety plan" is if help is needed when we're out together or when they're on their own, which is more and more these days being 15 and 17 years old. And to always let us know if the "plan" changes and why. 

So, when both our kids wanted to go to the high school homecoming dance that would go to 11 PM, and Mom and Dad like to be asleep by around 10 PM, we asked them to find a ride home. Neither of them drives yet; our oldest Beatrice hasn't been in a hurry to drive, and our youngest Bryce can't wait to drive, but still has to wait until the spring. That's okay. Even though Amy and I were driving back in high school, driving is a lot of work (and insuring a teen is a lot of money these days). Beatrice does have friends who drive now, but they're not supposed to drive with other kids the first 12 months they have their license, and we don't want them too either (right now). 

We have reciprocal friends who share in pick-ups and drop-offs, including us, when our friends' kids need rides. Our kids are also comfortable taking the city bus that drops off right down the street from our house and have done so many times in the past few years. While we wouldn't want our teens to ride home on their bikes from a school dance that late at night, only Beatrice uses our e-bike. Bryce uses no bikes. (We tried a long time ago to be a bike family, but that never worked out.)

Plus, the next night after the homecoming dance we were taking Beatrice and a friend to see a concert and knew we'd be coming home after midnight, way past our bedtime. Two nights in a row of late nights and disrupted sleep don't bode well for us, especially Amy. 

We enjoyed the homecoming football game and halftime show while our kids hung out with their friends and then went to dance. When we left the game, we texted them to ensure they had their house keys and to ensure they found a ride home, preferably together, and we let them know the buses still ran that late. They responded that they had their keys and would find a ride. Of course, we'd get them if they had no other ride no matter how late it was, which is why I was restless with the phone near my head. The Mom-and-Dad Uber service is always available, but we agreed that it's time for them to adult more often and figure out (safe) alternatives. We're grateful that they hang out with good kids.

They had fun and made it home safely from the dance that night, getting a ride from another friend's parent. In a few years they'll be doing a lot more adulting on their own without Mom and Dad's help. Blessings to them. The autonomy train has left the station and it ain't coming back. Toot-toot.