When Your Kid Is “That Kid” in Public (and You Survive Anyway)

There’s a moment—sometimes brief, sometimes painfully long—when you realize this is the day your kid is going to be “that kid.”

The one screaming in the grocery store aisle.
The one lying flat on the floor like a Victorian fainting couch has just claimed them.
The one loudly announcing deeply personal information to strangers who did not consent to this level of intimacy.

You feel it before it fully happens. That tightening in your chest. The quick scan of exits. The internal bargaining. Please don’t let this be the day.

And then it is.

The Instant Flood of Shame (Even When You Know Better)

What hits first usually isn’t concern for your child. It’s shame.

Not because you think your kid is bad—but because you know exactly how visible this moment is. You can feel eyes on you. Some sympathetic. Some curious. Some absolutely not hiding their judgment.

Even if you’re normally confident. Even if you’ve read the books. Even if you logically know kids are kids.

Public meltdowns have a way of tapping into something deep and primal: the fear that everyone is silently grading your parenting performance and you’re currently failing in real time.

And the worst part? That fear isn’t entirely imaginary.

The Myth of the Calm, In-Control Parent

Somewhere along the way, we absorbed the idea that “good” parents handle these moments calmly, quietly, and efficiently. That they gently redirect, validate feelings, and leave with dignity intact.

Sometimes that happens.

Other times, your kid is dysregulated, overtired, hungry, overstimulated, or just having a bad day—and no amount of gentle parenting language is going to override that nervous system in the cereal aisle.

The myth is that you can always prevent these moments if you just parent correctly.

The reality is that kids are humans with developing brains, limited coping skills, and very loud opinions.

What Makes Public Meltdowns So Much Worse Than Private Ones

At home, a meltdown is hard—but it’s contained. There’s privacy. There’s familiarity. There’s no audience.

In public, everything intensifies.

The noise is louder. The lights are brighter. You’re already trying to complete a task. And your own nervous system goes into high alert because now there are witnesses.

You’re managing your child and your own embarrassment and the pressure to make it stop as quickly as possible.

It’s not that you suddenly stop knowing what to do. It’s that you’re doing it while emotionally exposed.

The Lies We Tell Ourselves in These Moments

When your kid is “that kid,” your brain can get real mean, real fast.

Everyone thinks I can’t control my child.
I should have stayed home.
Other parents don’t deal with this.
I’m messing them up somehow.

None of these thoughts are helpful. Most of them aren’t even true. But they feel convincing because you’re overwhelmed.

Your brain wants a reason. And the easiest target is you.

Other People’s Reactions Don’t Define Your Parenting

Here’s the truth nobody says out loud often enough: some people are judging you. And some people genuinely don’t care. And some people are quietly rooting for you because they’ve been there.

You cannot control which category a stranger falls into.

You also don’t owe anyone a performance.

You don’t owe explanations. You don’t owe apologies for your child existing loudly. You don’t owe proof that you’re a “good mom.”

Parenting isn’t a public exam. Even when it feels like one.

Your Kid Isn’t Ruining the Day

It’s easy to slip into thinking your child is deliberately making things harder. Especially when you’re already tired and this is the last errand you wanted to run.

But kids don’t melt down to embarrass you. They melt down because something inside them is overwhelming and they don’t yet have the tools to manage it.

That doesn’t mean the behavior is pleasant. It doesn’t mean you have to enjoy it. It just means it’s not personal.

And reminding yourself of that—even imperfectly—can soften the edge just enough to get through it.

Survival Mode Is Still Parenting

Sometimes the goal isn’t teaching a lesson. Sometimes the goal is getting everyone out of the store with minimal emotional casualties.

That is still parenting.

Leaving the cart. Carrying a screaming child. Sitting on the curb while both of you cry. Cutting the trip short and ordering groceries later.

These aren’t failures. They’re adaptations.

There is no gold star for staying longer than your nervous system can handle.

You’re Allowed to Feel Embarrassed and Compassionate

One of the most freeing things is allowing yourself to hold two truths at once:

You can be deeply compassionate toward your child and desperately uncomfortable in the moment.

You can validate their feelings and want the ground to swallow you whole.

You don’t have to be a zen monk to be a good parent. You’re allowed to have feelings about the chaos.

Suppressing your own emotions doesn’t make you better at parenting—it just makes everything heavier.

The Long-Term Perspective (That’s Hard to Access Mid-Meltdown)

This moment will not define your child.

It won’t define you.

No one will remember this meltdown the way you do. Strangers will forget it within minutes. Your kid will move on. And one day, you’ll barely recall the details—just the exhaustion.

Kids grow. Nervous systems mature. Skills develop.

Public meltdowns are not a sign that something is wrong. They’re a sign that your child is still learning how to exist in a very loud, demanding world.

What You Actually Deserve in These Moments

You deserve grace. From yourself most of all.

You deserve not to spiral into self-loathing because your kid had a hard moment in a public space.

You deserve not to measure your worth as a parent by how quiet your child can be.

And you deserve to remember that parenting is not about performing calm—it’s about showing up, again and again, even when it’s messy.

After the Dust Settles

Later, when you’re home and things are quiet again, it’s okay to reflect. It’s okay to think about what might help next time.

But it’s also okay to just let it go.

You don’t need to turn every hard moment into a growth exercise. Sometimes it was just a rough day, and everyone did the best they could with the energy they had.

You’re Not Alone in This

Every parent has been there. Even the ones who look put-together. Even the ones whose kids seem magically compliant.

They’ve had their moments. You just didn’t see them.

So if today was one of those days—where your kid was “that kid” and you barely held it together—know this:

You survived.
Your kid survived.
And tomorrow is another chance.

That’s not failure. That’s parenting.

The Mental Load Nobody Sees (and Why It’s So Exhausting)

There’s a particular kind of tired that doesn’t show up on a step counter, a sleep tracker, or even in the mirror. You can technically get eight hours of sleep and still wake up feeling like you’ve already lived an entire day before breakfast. That kind of exhaustion usually isn’t about what you did. It’s about what you carried.

This is the mental load. And if you’re a mom, chances are you’re carrying a lot more of it than anyone realizes—including, sometimes, the people you live with.

The mental load isn’t just remembering appointments or knowing where the extra socks are. It’s the constant, invisible background processing of family life. The planning, anticipating, tracking, reminding, worrying, and adjusting that never really shuts off. Even when you’re “resting,” your brain is usually still on duty.

And that’s why it’s so exhausting.

The Work That Never Clocks Out

The mental load isn’t a to-do list. It’s the operating system.

It’s knowing the dentist appointment is in three weeks, but also knowing your kid will need a clean shirt that morning because they always spill toothpaste down themselves. It’s remembering that the permission slip is due Friday, but also remembering that Friday is pizza day and pizza day means one kid melts down because the texture suddenly offends them. It’s realizing you’re low on shampoo before everyone runs out, and mentally adding it to the list while you’re also trying to remember if anyone has outgrown their shoes recently.

None of this is dramatic. That’s the problem.

It’s quiet, constant, and invisible. And because it doesn’t look like “work” in the traditional sense, it’s easy for it to be dismissed—even by ourselves.

Why It Feels Heavier Than Physical Tasks

You can see dishes. You can see laundry. You can even see the chaos of a messy house. The mental load, though, lives entirely inside your head.

That means there’s no natural stopping point.

You don’t get the satisfaction of checking it off. You don’t get praise for finishing it. And you don’t get relief when it’s “done,” because it never really is. The mental load regenerates constantly. As soon as one thing is resolved, another replaces it.

This is why a mom can feel exhausted even on days when “nothing happened.” The work happened internally. All day. Quietly.

The Emotional Side Nobody Talks About

The mental load isn’t just logistical. It’s emotional.

It’s noticing when one kid seems a little quieter than usual and filing that away. It’s remembering that your child hates fire drills, loves the blue cup, and panics when plans change suddenly. It’s carrying the emotional temperature of the household and adjusting yourself accordingly.

It’s also being the default person everyone comes to with feelings, questions, needs, and problems. Even when you’re tapped out. Even when you’re not okay.

And because this emotional labor is wrapped up in love, it’s often treated as something that shouldn’t be tiring. As if caring deeply means you shouldn’t feel depleted by it.

That’s not how humans work.

Why It Often Falls on Moms (Even in “Equal” Households)

This part can be uncomfortable to talk about, but it matters.

In many families, the mental load still defaults to moms—not because partners don’t care, but because of long-standing expectations and habits. Moms are often the ones who notice, anticipate, and remember because they’ve always done it. And once you’re the one doing it, it becomes easier for everyone else not to.

That doesn’t mean anyone is malicious. It does mean the system quietly reinforces itself.

You remember because you’ve always remembered. You plan because if you don’t, it won’t get done. And over time, it becomes less visible that this is labor at all—because it’s happening seamlessly.

Until you burn out.

The Guilt That Sneaks In

One of the cruelest parts of the mental load is the guilt that comes with it.

If you’re overwhelmed, you might tell yourself you shouldn’t be. After all, other moms handle this. Or at least they seem to. You might feel ungrateful for feeling exhausted when your kids are healthy and your life is, on paper, “fine.”

But exhaustion doesn’t require tragedy to be valid.

Carrying too much for too long will wear anyone down. And minimizing your own strain doesn’t make you stronger—it just makes you lonelier.

Why “Just Delegate” Isn’t the Fix People Think It Is

You’ll often hear advice like “just ask for help” or “just delegate more,” and while those things can help, they’re not a magic solution.

Because delegating still requires mental energy.

You still have to notice the thing, remember the thing, ask for the thing, explain the thing, and often follow up on the thing. You’re still managing the system. You’re just outsourcing a task within it.

True relief comes not just from sharing tasks, but from sharing responsibility for thinking about the tasks in the first place.

That’s a much bigger shift—and it doesn’t happen overnight.

The Impact on Identity and Self-Worth

When the mental load is constant, it can start to blur who you are outside of it.

You may notice you struggle to relax even when you have time to yourself. Your brain doesn’t know how to turn off. You may feel oddly restless or guilty when you’re not being productive. Or you might feel invisible—like everyone relies on you, but no one really sees you.

This can quietly erode your sense of self.

Not because you don’t love your family, but because you’re always operating in service of everyone else’s needs. And humans need more than that to feel whole.

What Actually Helps (Without Pretending It’s Easy)

There’s no single fix for the mental load. Anyone promising one is oversimplifying something deeply complex.

But there are things that help, even if they’re imperfect.

Naming it helps. Simply recognizing that what you’re feeling has a name—and that it’s real—can be incredibly validating. You’re not “bad at coping.” You’re overloaded.

Sharing awareness helps. Conversations about mental load aren’t about blame. They’re about visibility. When others understand what’s happening behind the scenes, it’s easier to redistribute not just chores, but awareness.

Letting some things drop helps. Not in a dramatic, everything-is-on-fire way—but in a quiet, intentional way. Some things genuinely don’t need to be managed as tightly as we’ve been taught.

And self-compassion helps. Not the fluffy, poster-quote kind. The real kind that says: Of course this is hard. Anyone would be tired doing this.

You’re Not Weak for Feeling This Way

If the mental load is crushing you lately, it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human.

You’re doing a tremendous amount of unseen work in a world that rarely pauses to acknowledge it. You’re keeping things running, holding emotional space, and thinking five steps ahead for people you love.

That matters. Even when no one says it out loud.

You don’t need to enjoy every moment. You don’t need to be endlessly patient. And you don’t need to pretend this isn’t heavy.

It is heavy.

And you’re not alone in feeling that weight—even when it feels like you’re carrying it all by yourself.

The Truth About Balance – Why It’s Overrated (and What to Aim For Instead)

If there is one word that has haunted modern motherhood more than almost any other, it’s balance.

Work–life balance. Family balance. Self-care balance. Balance your schedule. Balance your priorities. Balance your energy. Balance your emotions. Balance your expectations. Balance your kids’ activities. Balance your marriage. Balance your mental health.

At this point, “balance” feels less like a helpful goal and more like a threat.

Because no matter what you’re doing on any given day, there is always something else you’re not doing—and balance whispers that you should be doing it all, all the time, without dropping anything.

If you’ve ever gone to bed exhausted but still felt like you failed, balance might be the reason.

So let’s talk honestly about it. Not the glossy version. Not the inspirational-quote version. The real one.

The Problem With the Idea of Balance

Balance sounds calm. Peaceful. Reasonable. It conjures an image of evenly spaced responsibilities, tidy schedules, and a mom who somehow has time for everything without looking stressed.

But real life doesn’t work that way.

Balance implies that all parts of life can be evenly distributed at the same time. That work, kids, relationships, rest, personal interests, household management, and mental health can all receive equal attention every day.

That’s not realistic. And more importantly, it’s not how human beings function.

Life is not a scale that stays level. It’s more like a series of waves. Some days one thing takes over. Other days something else does. And pretending otherwise sets moms up for constant disappointment.

The idea of balance turns normal seasons of intensity into personal failures.

Busy week at work? You’re “out of balance.” Kids need extra attention? You’re “neglecting yourself.” Exhausted and barely functioning? You’re “not prioritizing self-care.”

Balance becomes a measuring stick that you never quite meet.

Balance Ignores Seasons of Life

One of the biggest lies about balance is that it treats all phases of life as equal.

But raising newborns is not the same as parenting teens. Surviving a hard year is not the same as a calm one. Burnout seasons are not the same as growth seasons.

Some seasons are survival mode. Some are maintenance. Some are expansion. Some are recovery.

Trying to force balance during a survival season is like trying to decorate a house while it’s actively on fire.

There are times when everything else takes a back seat because something has to. That doesn’t mean you failed. It means you responded appropriately to the reality in front of you.

Balance Turns Trade-Offs Into Guilt

Every choice has a cost. That’s just reality.

If you say yes to one thing, you are automatically saying no to something else. Balance tries to pretend that isn’t true.

When you chase balance, trade-offs start feeling like moral shortcomings instead of neutral decisions.

You work late and feel guilty for missing bedtime. You stay home and feel guilty for not being productive. You rest and feel guilty for not doing more. You do more and feel guilty for not resting.

Balance doesn’t remove guilt—it multiplies it.

Because instead of asking, “What makes sense right now?” you ask, “How do I make this even?”

And often, it can’t be.

Why Moms Feel Especially Trapped by Balance

Mothers are uniquely pressured to maintain balance because they’re expected to be emotionally available, productive, nurturing, organized, patient, present, and self-sacrificing—all at once.

There’s an unspoken expectation that if you just manage your time better, everything will fit neatly.

But time management doesn’t fix emotional labor. Organization doesn’t eliminate exhaustion. Productivity doesn’t replace rest.

The mental load alone makes balance a moving target.

You can’t balance a system where the inputs are constantly changing.

Kids grow. Needs shift. Energy fluctuates. Life throws curveballs. And yet, moms are told that if things feel chaotic, they’re doing something wrong.

That message is deeply unfair.

The Myth of “Doing It All”

Balance often disguises itself as empowerment.

“You can do it all!” “You just need the right system!” “Find your balance!”

But doing it all usually means carrying it all.

More responsibility. More expectations. More invisible labor.

And when something drops—as it inevitably will—the blame falls squarely on you for not balancing better.

The truth is, doing it all was never the goal. Surviving, adapting, and staying human was.

What Actually Works Instead of Balance

If balance isn’t the answer, what is?

A few much more realistic ideas.

1. Prioritization Over Balance

Instead of trying to give everything equal weight, decide what matters most right now.

Not forever. Not perfectly. Just right now.

Some weeks, the priority is work. Some weeks, it’s kids. Some weeks, it’s rest. Some weeks, it’s just getting through.

When priorities are clear, guilt softens. You’re no longer failing at everything—you’re choosing what matters most in this moment.

2. Rhythm Instead of Balance

Balance suggests stillness. Rhythm allows movement.

Some days are heavy. Some days are light. Some days are loud. Some days are quiet.

Rhythm acknowledges that life naturally shifts and flows.

You might work hard one week and recover the next. You might push during the day and collapse at night. You might have productive mornings and sluggish afternoons.

That’s not imbalance. That’s being human.

3. Enough Is Better Than Even

Balance wants equal. Reality needs enough.

Enough sleep. Enough food. Enough connection. Enough effort.

Not optimal. Not ideal. Just enough.

Enough keeps you functioning. Enough keeps you sane. Enough keeps you moving forward without breaking.

4. Sustainability Over Perfection

A balanced life looks good on paper. A sustainable life works long-term.

Ask yourself: Can I keep this up? Does this leave room to breathe? Does this allow for bad days?

If the answer is no, it doesn’t matter how balanced it looks—it’s not sustainable.

Letting Go of the Scorecard

One of the hardest parts of releasing the idea of balance is letting go of constant self-evaluation.

Am I doing enough? Am I giving enough? Am I resting enough? Am I present enough?

That internal scorecard is exhausting.

You don’t need to audit your life every day. You don’t need to optimize every hour. You don’t need to justify rest or productivity.

You are allowed to exist without constantly proving that you’re doing it “right.”

Balance vs. Compassion

Balance is rigid. Compassion is flexible.

Balance asks, “Is this even?” Compassion asks, “Is this reasonable?”

Balance punishes you for falling short. Compassion meets you where you are.

Compassion recognizes that some days will be messy, loud, unproductive, emotional, or exhausting—and that those days don’t cancel out the good ones.

Teaching Kids a Healthier Model

When kids watch moms chase balance, they often learn that rest must be earned, that productivity equals worth, and that exhaustion is normal.

When they watch moms choose priorities, set limits, and show self-compassion, they learn something far healthier.

They learn that life comes in seasons. They learn that it’s okay to slow down. They learn that taking care of yourself doesn’t mean abandoning responsibility.

That lesson matters more than any perfectly balanced schedule.

A More Honest Goal

Instead of balance, aim for something gentler.

Aim for awareness. Aim for flexibility. Aim for sustainability. Aim for grace.

Aim to notice when you’re stretched too thin. Aim to adjust when something isn’t working. Aim to forgive yourself when things fall apart a little.

Life doesn’t need to be balanced to be meaningful. It needs to be livable.

A Final Thought You Might Need to Hear

If your life feels unbalanced right now, it doesn’t mean you’re failing.

It means you’re living.

You are responding to real demands in real time with limited energy and infinite responsibility. That is not something to be perfectly balanced—it’s something to be navigated with care.

Balance is overrated.

Give yourself permission to aim for something better instead.

How to Teach Kids Responsibility Without Becoming a Drill Sergeant

There comes a moment in parenting when you realize you have said the same sentence forty-seven times in one day. Something like, “Please put your shoes away,” or “Did you remember to feed the dog?” or the classic, “Why is this cup here?”

And somewhere between repetition number twelve and the deep sigh that follows repetition number forty-seven, a terrifying thought creeps in: Am I raising a future adult who will survive on their own, or am I going to be reminding them to take out the trash until I die?

Teaching kids responsibility sounds straightforward. Give them chores. Set expectations. Follow through. Easy, right?

Except real life is messier than parenting books. Kids forget. They resist. They half-do things. They stare directly at the mess you’re talking about like it doesn’t exist. And before you know it, you’re barking orders like a stressed-out camp counselor wondering how things escalated so quickly.

The goal, supposedly, is to raise capable, responsible humans—not tiny soldiers who jump at commands or adults who melt down the second someone asks them to do a basic task.

So how do you teach responsibility without turning into a drill sergeant or feeling like the household bad guy?

It starts with rethinking what responsibility actually looks like at different ages—and letting go of the idea that it happens quickly.

Responsibility Is a Skill, Not a Personality Trait

Some kids are naturally organized. Some kids remember things without being reminded. Some kids enjoy checking things off lists.

Those kids are not morally superior. They just rolled different dice.

Responsibility isn’t something kids either “have” or “don’t have.” It’s a skill. And like any skill, it develops unevenly, slowly, and with a lot of practice.

Expecting a child to remember tasks perfectly because you explained it once is like expecting them to read fluently after learning the alphabet. It ignores how brains actually work—especially developing ones.

When kids forget, avoid responsibility, or need reminders, they’re not being lazy or disrespectful by default. They’re learning.

And learning is messy.

Start Small (Smaller Than You Think)

One of the biggest mistakes parents make—usually out of exhaustion—is assigning responsibility in huge chunks.

“Clean your room.” “Get ready for school.” “Help around the house.”

Those instructions sound reasonable to adults, but to kids they’re vague, overwhelming, and easy to mentally avoid.

Responsibility sticks better when tasks are:

• Clear
• Specific
• Predictable

Instead of “clean your room,” try “put your dirty clothes in the hamper” or “put books back on the shelf.”

Instead of “get ready,” try “brush your teeth and put your shoes on.”

It feels tedious at first, but smaller expectations lead to actual follow-through, which builds confidence—and confidence is what encourages kids to take on more.

Responsibility Without Shame

Shame is a terrible teacher.

When kids forget to do something, it’s tempting to go straight to frustration: “Why can’t you remember?” or “You never listen,” or “I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Those statements don’t teach responsibility. They teach kids that making mistakes makes them disappointing.

A calmer approach sounds more like, “Hey, the trash didn’t get taken out. Let’s do that now,” or “Looks like the dog didn’t get fed yet—thanks for taking care of it.”

Natural reminders are far more effective than lectures.

The goal isn’t to make kids feel bad enough to comply. It’s to help them build habits without associating responsibility with constant stress.

Consistency Beats Intensity

You don’t need big consequences, dramatic speeches, or raised voices to teach responsibility.

You need consistency.

If a child is responsible for feeding the pet, that responsibility exists every day—not just when you remember to enforce it or when you’re in a good mood.

If homework needs to be done before screen time, that rule applies whether you’re tired or energized.

Consistency creates structure. Structure creates predictability. Predictability helps kids succeed.

It’s okay if consistency looks boring. Boring is effective.

Let Them Experience Safe Consequences

One of the hardest parts of teaching responsibility is resisting the urge to swoop in and fix everything.

It feels easier to pack the backpack yourself. Faster to just do the chore. Less stressful to remind them one more time—okay, five more times.

But responsibility grows when kids experience small, safe consequences.

If they forget their water bottle, they’re thirsty for a bit. If they forget homework, they talk to the teacher. If they don’t put toys away, those toys might get put up for the day.

This does not mean setting kids up to fail or letting them experience harm. It means allowing age-appropriate discomfort when it’s safe to do so.

Natural consequences teach far more than lectures ever will.

Chores Are Not Punishment

Chores often get framed as something kids must endure—either as punishment or because “that’s just life.”

But when chores are only introduced during conflict, kids learn to associate responsibility with negativity.

Instead, frame chores as participation.

“This is how we take care of our home.” “Everyone who lives here helps.” “These are your jobs, just like I have mine.”

This doesn’t mean kids have to enjoy chores. It means they understand they’re part of something bigger than themselves.

And yes, they will complain. That’s okay. Complaining does not mean the lesson isn’t working.

Age-Appropriate Expectations Matter (A Lot)

A preschooler will not manage time independently. An elementary-aged child will need reminders. A teenager will still forget things you think they should absolutely know by now.

This is not failure. This is development.

Expecting adult-level responsibility from kids leads straight to frustration—for everyone.

Instead, aim for gradual independence.

More responsibility over time. More trust as skills develop. More space to manage tasks with less oversight.

Progress is not linear. Kids will take steps forward, then backward, then sideways. That’s normal.

Responsibility Doesn’t Mean Control

Teaching responsibility is not about micromanaging every move a child makes.

In fact, too much control often backfires.

When kids feel constantly watched, corrected, or managed, they either push back or shut down.

Giving kids ownership—real ownership—builds motivation.

Let them choose the order they do their chores. Let them decide when (within reason) tasks get done. Let them problem-solve instead of immediately stepping in.

Autonomy is a powerful teacher.

When You Feel Like You’re Yelling All the Time

If you’re constantly raising your voice about responsibility, that’s not a sign you’re failing. It’s a sign something in the system isn’t working.

Maybe expectations are too big. Maybe tasks aren’t clear. Maybe there are too many responsibilities at once. Maybe you’re just deeply, profoundly tired.

It’s okay to reset.

You can say, “Hey, this isn’t working. Let’s try something different.”

Parenting is allowed to be flexible.

Responsibility Is a Long Game

This is the part no one likes to hear: responsibility takes years.

Years of repetition. Years of reminders. Years of watching progress unfold slowly.

There will be days when it feels like nothing is sticking. Days when you wonder if you’re doing any good at all.

And then one day, your child does something without being asked. Or remembers something on their own. Or helps without prompting.

Those moments don’t come from fear or pressure. They come from steady guidance and trust.

A Final Bit of Reassurance

You do not need to run your household like a boot camp to raise responsible kids.

You need patience. Clear expectations. Follow-through. And a willingness to let kids learn at their own pace.

Your child forgetting a chore does not mean you’ve failed. Your child resisting responsibility does not mean they never will learn. Your frustration does not mean you’re a bad parent.

You’re teaching humans how to manage themselves in the world. That’s big work.

And if you’re doing it with honesty, humor, and a little grace—for them and for yourself—you’re doing just fine.