Three weeks ago, I logged into my first class in Seattle University's Clinical Mental Health Counseling program. Back in 2011, I started studying for the GRE with a similar intention. Then life happened, and that path got set aside before I ever sent an application. So opening my laptop that first night felt bigger than the start of a semester. It felt like picking up a thread I'd put down fifteen years ago. I expected to be busy, and I am. What I didn't expect was how quickl

People are sometimes surprised by this. They book a call expecting a list. What to say at bedtime. What to do about the hitting. The three steps for getting out the door. It's a fair thing to expect. Most parenting help comes in that shape. And when you're tired, and it's the fourth rough night in a row, a script sounds like mercy. Here's my hesitation with tips: they work right up until the moment you need them. In a calm moment, you can remember the script. In the moment th

Almost every parent I sit with has said some version of this to me at some point: "I said the exact thing my mom used to say, and I hate that I said it." It's usually a small thing. A tone. A phrase. A way of going quiet instead of talking something through. And it comes out of nowhere, mid-sentence, mid-moment, and lands with this strange double feeling: it worked, in the sense that the kid stopped whatever they were doing, and it also felt like betraying something you promi

When something isn't going well with our kids, it's pretty natural to start with the kid. How do I get her to stop melting down? How do I get him to listen? What should I say when she talks to me like that? How do I get them to stop fighting? What consequence should I use? I've asked those questions, too. But what if sometimes we're starting in the wrong place? What if, before asking How do I change what my child is doing?, we got curious about what their behavior is doing in