It’s a hot conversation right now, one that seems silly to need to address, but here we are regardless. How do we teach boys to be respectful of girls, and whose job is it? There’s a version of this conversation that centers on rules: don’t speak to girls that way, don’t touch someone who doesn’t want to be touched, respect your mother. These are good rules to have, and rules have their place. But rules are architecture without a foundation. A person who follows rules because they are told to will look for the edges. Someone who has internalized the value of the people around them doesn’t need to be reminded.
That understanding doesn’t come from a single talk. It comes from watching. And the primary person most boys are watching, whether or not their father, stepfather, or grandfather knows it, is the other men in their lives. This isn’t new information, but we often forget that little eyes are everywhere, all the time.
Fathers carry a quiet and continuous influence simply by being present and engaged. The way a Read more…
Your three-year-old throws herself on the ground at the playground right as you try to leave. Your seven-year-old has a complete meltdown at a birthday party, in front of every parent you know. Your teen yells quite loudly in the restaurant, “Would you just leave me alone. You don’t know anything!” 
Most of us believe we see our children clearly. We know their faces, their moods, the particular way they go quiet when something is wrong. We show up. We ask questions. We pay attention. And still, we can look right at them and miss them entirely.
Parenting has a way of touching places inside us we thought had long since healed over. Sometimes it brings joy, sometimes tenderness—and sometimes it brushes against old wounds we haven’t dared revisit. Lately, I’ve been sitting with one of those moments. My fifteen-year-old is moving through a stormy season: tears, defiance, pulling away from friends, and slipping into behaviors that seem reckless or self-sabotaging. None of it is extreme, but it’s enough to keep me up at night. And what makes it harder is that it echoes someone else from my past… my sister.
Every year, the holiday season arrives with its bright lights, traditions, and a quiet but powerful cultural pressure to create something magical. We can’t help but feel it in the pile of to-dos, school and family events on the calendar, the “perfect” images online, and the belief that our children’s happiness depends on our performance. Personally, I can’t tell you how much I hate that stupid Elf!
Big Feelings over Family Gatherings?