This is true for parents with kids at all stages of development, but lately I have been thinking particularly about parents of high school seniors as they enter the fall semester of senior year.

Fall is when the college application process officially begins. Students feel the pressure of deadlines and decisions, getting everything ready, writing essays, and completing applications—all while keeping up with schoolwork, activities, and their other responsibilities. There is also a lot happening emotionally. Senior year marks the culmination of their high school experience. They are preparing to possibly leave home for the first time, say goodbye to friends, and move toward something new and unknown. It is hard to be a senior today, particularly with the pressure to attend highly selective colleges and the constant comparisons and messages they receive through social media.

Seniors can become anxious, and that anxiety often shows up at home, making ordinary interactions with their parents more difficult. Parents, out of love and in their effort to help, may try to reassure their child or become more involved in the application process—monitoring deadlines, checking progress, and reminding them of the next step.

Before long, the whole family can begin to revolve around college applications.

But similar patterns show up at every stage of parenting. The circumstances change as our children grow—the first day of school, friendship problems, academic pressure, disappointments, or eventually the challenges of adulthood, but the challenge is often the same:

How do we parent when our kids are going through a stressful time?

1. Start with ourselves

The first step is working on our own anxious reaction to watching our kids in distress.

Instead of directing all of our energy toward trying to calm our children, we can shift some of that energy toward managing ourselves. This work is highly individual. It starts with becoming aware of our automatic reactions: What happens to me when I see my child struggling? Do I immediately reassure? Ask questions? Give advice? Take over? Monitor? Become frustrated?

From there, we can find ways to manage our own reactivity. That might mean taking a few deep breaths, going for a walk, giving ourselves time before responding, or challenging some of our own worried thoughts.

The main idea is that we are working on the one thing that is actually within our control: our response.

2. Relate to the whole child

A second step is remembering to relate to the whole child, rather than relating primarily to their anxiety.

I recently completed a certification with Dr. Jenny Brown’s Child Hope Project, and one of the ideas from the program that I found particularly useful is the importance of keeping our focus on the whole child.

Relating to the whole child means refusing to let the thing you are most worried about become the only thing you see.

When we are worried, our attention can narrow. We monitor the problem. We ask about it. We look for signs that it is getting better or worse. And without realizing it, the problem can begin to dominate our relationship with our child. Relating to the whole child means reducing some of that monitoring and remaining curious about everything else that makes our child who they are: their interests, ideas, strengths, relationships, preferences, responsibilities, and everyday life. The anxiety is real, but it is only one part of them.

Keeping sight of the whole child helps us keep the problem in perspective.

3. Validate—and communicate trust

Finally, we can pay attention to what we communicate when our children come to us with their anxiety.

Eli Lebowitz, a clinical psychologist and professor at the Yale Child Study Center, is best known for developing SPACE (Supportive Parenting for Anxious Childhood Emotions), an evidence-based treatment for childhood and adolescent anxiety.

One of the central ideas in his work is surprisingly simple:

Validate the emotion and communicate confidence.

Parents can acknowledge that something feels genuinely difficult while also communicating confidence in their child’s ability to cope with it. Lebowitz’s work is primarily directed toward families of children with significant anxiety that interferes with functioning, but I think this basic formula can be useful for all parents, regardless of the intensity of the anxiety.

During a stressful or anxious moment, it might sound something like:

“I know this feels really stressful and overwhelming, and I trust that you can figure it out.”

Or:

“I can see why you’re worried about this. I also know that you can handle it.”

Use your own words—something that feels natural in your relationship with your child. The specific wording matters less than communicating both components:

I understand that this is hard. And I have confidence in your ability to face it.

That is very different from saying, “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”Because we don’t actually know that everything will turn out the way our child hopes. Communicating confidence isn’t about certainty over the outcome. It is about trusting our child’s capacity to tolerate distress, navigate uncertainty, recover from disappointment, solve problems, and keep moving forward. Maybe they will get into the college they desperately want to attend. Maybe they won’t. Our confidence in them doesn’t have to depend on the outcome.

And outside of the college application process, this same approach can be useful whenever we find ourselves triggered by watching our child struggle.

When we are able to manage our own anxious reactions, relate to the whole child rather than only to the problem, and communicate both understanding and trust, something begins to shift in the family dynamic. We may ask fewer questions, give fewer reminders, offer less reassurance, and feel less urgency to fix what our child is experiencing. Our interactions become less organized around the anxiety.

When our own anxiety is less likely to drive the interaction, there is more space for our children to navigate their experience without our worry becoming part of the problem. We remain available and connected, but our confidence in them allows us to step out of the way enough for them to find their own way through the challenge. This doesn’t necessarily mean their anxiety will disappear. Difficult things will still feel difficult. But anxiety no longer has to take over the relationship—or the family.

Perhaps that is the shift we are looking for: not “How do I make this better for my child?” but “How do I want to function as a parent while my child moves through something difficult?”

When we can stay connected without taking over, acknowledge distress without amplifying it, and communicate confidence without guaranteeing an outcome, we give our children something more valuable than reassurance: the experience of being seen as capable.

How do you react when your child experiences anxiety?

Leave a comment

Esto es cierto para padres con hijos en todas las etapas del desarrollo, pero últimamente he estado pensando especialmente en los padres de estudiantes que están en su último año de preparatoria, al comenzar el semestre de otoño de senior year.

El otoño es cuando comienza oficialmente el proceso de aplicación a la universidad. Los estudiantes sienten la presión de las fechas límite y las decisiones, de tener todo listo, escribir ensayos y completar aplicaciones, mientras al mismo tiempo tienen que mantenerse al día con sus tareas escolares, actividades y demás responsabilidades. También están sucediendo muchas cosas a nivel emocional. El último año marca el cierre de su experiencia en preparatoria. Se están preparando para posiblemente dejar su casa por primera vez, despedirse de sus amigos y avanzar hacia algo nuevo y desconocido. Ser senior hoy no es fácil, especialmente con la presión por entrar a universidades altamente selectivas y las comparaciones y mensajes constantes que reciben a través de las redes sociales.

Los estudiantes pueden ponerse ansiosos, y esa ansiedad muchas veces aparece en casa, haciendo que las interacciones cotidianas con sus padres se vuelvan más difíciles. Los padres, desde el amor y en su esfuerzo por ayudar, pueden tratar de tranquilizar a sus hijos o involucrarse más en el proceso de aplicación: monitoreando fechas límite, revisando avances y recordándoles cuál es el siguiente paso.

Antes de darnos cuenta, toda la familia puede empezar a girar alrededor de las aplicaciones a la universidad.

Pero patrones similares aparecen en todas las etapas de la crianza. Las circunstancias cambian conforme nuestros hijos crecen —el primer día de clases, los problemas con amigos, la presión académica, las decepciones o, eventualmente, los retos de la vida adulta, pero el desafío suele ser el mismo:

¿Cómo acompañamos a nuestros hijos cuando están pasando por un momento de estrés?

1. Empezar por nosotros mismos

El primer paso es trabajar en nuestra propia reacción ansiosa al ver a nuestros hijos atravesar un momento difícil.

En lugar de dirigir toda nuestra energía a tratar de calmarlos, podemos redirigir parte de esa energía hacia manejarnos a nosotros mismos. Este trabajo es muy individual. Comienza por tomar conciencia de nuestras reacciones automáticas: ¿Qué me pasa cuando veo a mi hijo batallando? ¿Trato inmediatamente de tranquilizarlo? ¿Hago preguntas? ¿Doy consejos? ¿Tomo el control? ¿Monitoreo? ¿Me frustro?

A partir de ahí, podemos encontrar maneras de manejar nuestra propia reactividad. Esto puede significar respirar profundamente unas cuantas veces, salir a caminar, darnos un poco de tiempo antes de responder o cuestionar algunos de nuestros propios pensamientos de preocupación.

La idea principal es que estamos trabajando sobre lo único que realmente está bajo nuestro control: nuestra respuesta.

2. Relacionarnos con el hijo completo

Un segundo paso es recordar relacionarnos con nuestro hijo como una persona completa, en lugar de relacionarnos principalmente con su ansiedad.

Recientemente terminé una certificación con el Child Hope Project de la Dra. Jenny Brown, y una de las ideas del programa que me pareció particularmente útil es la importancia de mantener nuestra atención en el hijo completo.

Relacionarnos con el hijo completo significa negarnos a permitir que aquello que más nos preocupa se convierta en lo único que vemos.

Cuando estamos preocupados, nuestra atención puede estrecharse. Monitoreamos el problema. Preguntamos sobre él. Buscamos señales de que está mejorando o empeorando. Y, sin darnos cuenta, el problema puede empezar a dominar nuestra relación con nuestro hijo. Relacionarnos con el hijo completo implica reducir parte de ese monitoreo y mantener la curiosidad por todo lo demás que hace que nuestro hijo sea quien es: sus intereses, ideas, fortalezas, relaciones, preferencias, responsabilidades y vida cotidiana. La ansiedad es real, pero es solamente una parte de ellos.

Mantener a la vista al hijo completo nos ayuda a conservar el problema en perspectiva.

3. Validar y comunicar confianza

Finalmente, podemos prestar atención a lo que comunicamos cuando nuestros hijos se acercan a nosotros con su ansiedad.

Eli Lebowitz, psicólogo clínico y profesor del Yale Child Study Center, es conocido principalmente por desarrollar SPACE (Supportive Parenting for Anxious Childhood Emotions), un tratamiento basado en evidencia para la ansiedad en niños y adolescentes.

Una de las ideas centrales de su trabajo es sorprendentemente sencilla:

Validar la emoción y comunicar confianza.

Los padres podemos reconocer que algo se siente genuinamente difícil y, al mismo tiempo, comunicar confianza en la capacidad de nuestro hijo para enfrentarlo. El trabajo de Lebowitz está dirigido principalmente a familias con niños o adolescentes cuya ansiedad es significativa e interfiere con su funcionamiento, pero creo que esta fórmula básica puede ser útil para todos los padres, independientemente de la intensidad de la ansiedad.

Durante un momento de estrés o ansiedad, podría sonar así:

“Sé que esto se siente muy estresante y abrumador, y confío en que puedes encontrar la manera de resolverlo.”

O:

“Entiendo por qué esto te preocupa. También sé que puedes manejarlo.”

Usa tus propias palabras, algo que se sienta natural en la relación con tu hijo. Las palabras específicas importan menos que comunicar los dos componentes:

Entiendo que esto es difícil. Y confío en tu capacidad para enfrentarlo.

Esto es muy diferente a decir: “No te preocupes. Todo va a estar bien”. Porque en realidad no sabemos si todo resultará como nuestro hijo espera.

Comunicar confianza no significa tener certeza sobre el resultado. Significa confiar en la capacidad de nuestro hijo para tolerar el malestar, navegar la incertidumbre, recuperarse de una decepción, resolver problemas y seguir adelante. Tal vez logre entrar a la universidad a la que tanto desea ir. Tal vez no. Nuestra confianza en él no tiene que depender del resultado.

Y fuera del proceso de aplicación a la universidad, este mismo enfoque puede ser útil siempre que nos sintamos activados al ver a nuestro hijo atravesar una dificultad.

Cuando logramos manejar nuestras propias reacciones ansiosas, relacionarnos con el hijo completo y no solamente con el problema, y comunicar tanto comprensión como confianza, algo empieza a cambiar en la dinámica familiar. Tal vez hacemos menos preguntas, damos menos recordatorios, ofrecemos menos tranquilidad constante y sentimos menos urgencia por resolver lo que nuestro hijo está viviendo. Nuestras interacciones dejan de estar tan organizadas alrededor de la ansiedad.

Cuando nuestra propia ansiedad deja de dirigir la interacción, se abre más espacio para que nuestros hijos atraviesen su experiencia sin que nuestra preocupación se convierta en parte del problema. Seguimos disponibles y conectados, pero nuestra confianza en ellos nos permite hacernos a un lado lo suficiente para que encuentren su propia manera de atravesar el reto. Esto no significa necesariamente que su ansiedad vaya a desaparecer. Las cosas difíciles seguirán sintiéndose difíciles. Pero la ansiedad ya no tiene que apoderarse de la relación ni de la familia.

Tal vez ese sea el cambio que estamos buscando: no “¿Cómo hago para que esto sea más fácil para mi hijo?”, sino “¿Cómo quiero funcionar como padre o madre mientras mi hijo atraviesa algo difícil?”

Cuando podemos mantenernos conectados sin tomar el control, reconocer el malestar sin amplificarlo y comunicar confianza sin garantizar un resultado, les ofrecemos a nuestros hijos algo más valioso que tranquilizarlos: la experiencia de sentirse vistos como personas capaces.

Subscribe now

This is true for parents with kids at all stages of development, but lately I have been thinking particularly about parents of high school seniors as they enter the fall semester of senior year.

Fall is when the college application process officially begins. Students feel the pressure of deadlines and decisions, getting everything ready, writing essays, and completing applications—all while keeping up with schoolwork, activities, and their other responsibilities. There is also a lot happening emotionally. Senior year marks the culmination of their high school experience. They are preparing to possibly leave home for the first time, say goodbye to friends, and move toward something new and unknown. It is hard to be a senior today, particularly with the pressure to attend highly selective colleges and the constant comparisons and messages they receive through social media.

Seniors can become anxious, and that anxiety often shows up at home, making ordinary interactions with their parents more difficult. Parents, out of love and in their effort to help, may try to reassure their child or become more involved in the application process—monitoring deadlines, checking progress, and reminding them of the next step.

Before long, the whole family can begin to revolve around college applications.

But similar patterns show up at every stage of parenting. The circumstances change as our children grow—the first day of school, friendship problems, academic pressure, disappointments, or eventually the challenges of adulthood, but the challenge is often the same:

How do we parent when our kids are going through a stressful time?

1. Start with ourselves

The first step is working on our own anxious reaction to watching our kids in distress.

Instead of directing all of our energy toward trying to calm our children, we can shift some of that energy toward managing ourselves. This work is highly individual. It starts with becoming aware of our automatic reactions: What happens to me when I see my child struggling? Do I immediately reassure? Ask questions? Give advice? Take over? Monitor? Become frustrated?

From there, we can find ways to manage our own reactivity. That might mean taking a few deep breaths, going for a walk, giving ourselves time before responding, or challenging some of our own worried thoughts.

The main idea is that we are working on the one thing that is actually within our control: our response.

2. Relate to the whole child

A second step is remembering to relate to the whole child, rather than relating primarily to their anxiety.

I recently completed a certification with Dr. Jenny Brown’s Child Hope Project, and one of the ideas from the program that I found particularly useful is the importance of keeping our focus on the whole child.

Relating to the whole child means refusing to let the thing you are most worried about become the only thing you see.

When we are worried, our attention can narrow. We monitor the problem. We ask about it. We look for signs that it is getting better or worse. And without realizing it, the problem can begin to dominate our relationship with our child. Relating to the whole child means reducing some of that monitoring and remaining curious about everything else that makes our child who they are: their interests, ideas, strengths, relationships, preferences, responsibilities, and everyday life. The anxiety is real, but it is only one part of them.

Keeping sight of the whole child helps us keep the problem in perspective.

3. Validate—and communicate trust

Finally, we can pay attention to what we communicate when our children come to us with their anxiety.

Eli Lebowitz, a clinical psychologist and professor at the Yale Child Study Center, is best known for developing SPACE (Supportive Parenting for Anxious Childhood Emotions), an evidence-based treatment for childhood and adolescent anxiety.

One of the central ideas in his work is surprisingly simple:

Validate the emotion and communicate confidence.

Parents can acknowledge that something feels genuinely difficult while also communicating confidence in their child’s ability to cope with it. Lebowitz’s work is primarily directed toward families of children with significant anxiety that interferes with functioning, but I think this basic formula can be useful for all parents, regardless of the intensity of the anxiety.

During a stressful or anxious moment, it might sound something like:

“I know this feels really stressful and overwhelming, and I trust that you can figure it out.”

Or:

“I can see why you’re worried about this. I also know that you can handle it.”

Use your own words—something that feels natural in your relationship with your child. The specific wording matters less than communicating both components:

I understand that this is hard. And I have confidence in your ability to face it.

That is very different from saying, “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”Because we don’t actually know that everything will turn out the way our child hopes. Communicating confidence isn’t about certainty over the outcome. It is about trusting our child’s capacity to tolerate distress, navigate uncertainty, recover from disappointment, solve problems, and keep moving forward. Maybe they will get into the college they desperately want to attend. Maybe they won’t. Our confidence in them doesn’t have to depend on the outcome.

And outside of the college application process, this same approach can be useful whenever we find ourselves triggered by watching our child struggle.

When we are able to manage our own anxious reactions, relate to the whole child rather than only to the problem, and communicate both understanding and trust, something begins to shift in the family dynamic. We may ask fewer questions, give fewer reminders, offer less reassurance, and feel less urgency to fix what our child is experiencing. Our interactions become less organized around the anxiety.

When our own anxiety is less likely to drive the interaction, there is more space for our children to navigate their experience without our worry becoming part of the problem. We remain available and connected, but our confidence in them allows us to step out of the way enough for them to find their own way through the challenge. This doesn’t necessarily mean their anxiety will disappear. Difficult things will still feel difficult. But anxiety no longer has to take over the relationship—or the family.

Perhaps that is the shift we are looking for: not “How do I make this better for my child?” but “How do I want to function as a parent while my child moves through something difficult?”

When we can stay connected without taking over, acknowledge distress without amplifying it, and communicate confidence without guaranteeing an outcome, we give our children something more valuable than reassurance: the experience of being seen as capable.

How do you react when your child experiences anxiety?

Leave a comment

We're entering the second half of our summer break, with a little over four weeks left before school starts again. Most people have some version of the same answer: It’s going well. We’re enjoying the slower pace, but we’re also starting to run out of ideas for how to keep the kids entertained.

It has been a different kind of summer for us.

Usually, we spend part of the summer visiting family in Mexico. My husband and I are both from the same hometown, so our boys get to spend time with both sets of grandparents and our extended family. It’s a beach town, which adds to the fun, with plenty of time spent in the water. This year, though, we stayed home because our summer was already full—with camps, visitors, work, and an upcoming family trip to Colorado.

There are certain anxieties that always seem to surface for me during the summer.

Are the kids using their time wisely?

Are they learning something?

Are they spending too much time on their devices?

Are they eating too much junk?

All of those questions eventually lead me to the same place: Are we doing enough?

And underneath that question is an even more personal one:

Am I doing enough as a mom?

Should I be doing more?

Organizing more?

Signing them up for more?

Pushing them more?

More.

More.

More.

I think summer can be especially tricky for working parents. We feel the pull to slow down and enjoy these weeks with our children while also carrying the responsibilities of work. We want to make progress on our own goals while somehow creating a memorable summer for everyone else.

At the same time, I also believe summer should offer children something that is becoming increasingly rare: the opportunity to slow down. To be bored. To figure things out. To spend time with friends. To create their own fun instead of having every hour planned for them.

So when I notice myself being pulled in different directions, I try to return to something that has become a guiding principle in my parenting: managing myself first.

Instead of parenting from anxiety, I try to parent from principles.

These are the principles guiding our summer:

Share responsibility

• The boys are responsible for their own breakfast if they sleep in.

• They manage their own laundry.

• They figure out how to entertain themselves once screen time is over.

Create a rhythm

• Every day includes both screen time and some kind of activity.

• I’ll organize one group activity each week; the rest is up to them.

Stay connected

• The boys and I are participating in our local library’s summer reading challenge.

• If they don't have plans of their own, they join us for errands or whatever we have planned.

I wish I could say I’ve followed these principles perfectly every day. I haven’t.

There have been afternoons when I’ve wondered if they’ve watched too much TV, moments when I’ve been tempted to step in and solve problems they could probably solve themselves, and days when work demanded more of my attention than I wanted to give it. The principles haven’t eliminated my anxiety; they’ve simply given me something to return to when it shows up.

Even so, something has shifted.

The overall energy in our house has felt noticeably calmer this summer. That doesn’t mean every day has been peaceful. We’ve had arguments about staying up late, complaints about being bored, and moments when someone—including me—has been very cranky. But when I look back over the past several weeks, there’s been less yelling, less conflict, and more willingness from everyone to work together.

At first, I thought the calmer atmosphere was the story I wanted to tell.

But as I’ve reflected on the past several weeks, I think it was actually the setting.

Working on managing my own anxiety about summer productivity hasn't created a perfect summer, but I do think it has contributed to a calmer emotional climate in our home. That calmer atmosphere hasn't eliminated conflict or frustration—we still have both. What I think it has done is create more room for our family to respond from our principles instead of from anxiety.

Looking back, there were several moments that caught my attention—not because they were extraordinary, but because they reflected the important things we’ve been trying to cultivate in our family: empathy, responsibility, repair, and connection.

One happened as we were deciding whether to host friends for the Fourth of July after already having visitors staying with us for two weeks. I was leaning toward hosting, but my husband admitted he was exhausted and didn’t want to. Our oldest son—the most social and laid-back of the three—was excited about having people over. As my husband and I talked through our different perspectives, he looked at my husband and said,

“I would love to have people over, but I understand you. I understand how much work that would mean for you.”

It was such a simple comment, but it stopped me for a moment. I could see how touched my husband felt. Our son wasn’t just expressing his own preference; he was considering someone else’s experience. It was a small glimpse of empathy developing.

Another moment came when my middle son’s wallet went missing. This was the second time he had lost it. The first time, I eventually found it for him, and I knew part of him expected that I would somehow find it again. During dinner that evening, we talked about it. My husband became frustrated—not just because the wallet contained cash and his debit card, but because of what it represented: responsibility.

His frustration was understandable. What stood out to me, though, wasn’t that he got upset. It was how he handled it. The conversation became heated, but it never turned into a fight. They talked through it, canceled the debit card, discussed responsibility and organization, and then, when the conversation was over, my husband asked our son for a hug.

The lesson had been shared. Now it was time to reconnect.

That moment felt significant to me because we’ve spent many conversations talking about repair—about how conflict doesn’t have to end in emotional distance. Seeing him intentionally reconnect reminded me that growth often happens quietly, one interaction at a time.

One more moment happened during one of our Friday dinners. Friday dinners have become something of a tradition in our family. Sometimes we eat out, sometimes we order pizza and stay home, but somehow those evenings almost always lead to interesting conversations. Because we’d had visitors for much of the summer, we hadn’t had one in several weeks.

That night we found ourselves talking about the World Cup and what it means to feel loyal to a country when one of our sons suddenly said,

“I’ve missed these dinners. We haven’t had them in a while.”

My husband and I looked at each other and smiled. It was one of those parenting moments that quietly reminds you that the things you sometimes wonder about are, in fact, making a difference.

The conversations.

The traditions.

Simply being together.

As we head to Colorado this week, I’m excited for another week together as a family. I’m sure there will be moments of connection, moments of frustration, and moments when I’ll catch myself wondering whether we’re making the most of the trip.

Have I planned enough?

But this summer has reminded me of something I hope I don’t forget.

Children don’t necessarily need parents who fill every hour with activities or make every day extraordinary.

They need parents who provide structure.

Who hold expectations.

Who create family rituals.

Who repair after conflict.

And perhaps, most importantly, they need parents who continue working on themselves—learning to manage the different anxieties each season brings, noticing when anxiety begins to take over, and returning, again and again, to the values and principles that guide the family they hope to build.

Maybe that’s the real work of parenting.

Not creating the perfect summer.

But creating the kind of emotional climate where everyone in the family has room to keep growing.

How is summer going?

Leave a comment

Estamos entrando en la segunda mitad de las vacaciones de verano, con poco más de cuatro semanas antes de que comiencen nuevamente las clases. La mayoría de las personas responde con alguna versión de lo mismo: Va bien. Estamos disfrutando el ritmo más tranquilo, aunque ya empezamos a quedarnos sin ideas para entretener a los niños.

Para nosotros, este ha sido un verano diferente.

Normalmente pasamos parte del verano visitando a nuestra familia en México. Mi esposo y yo somos de la misma ciudad, así que nuestros hijos tienen la oportunidad de convivir con ambos abuelos y con toda la familia extendida. Además, es una ciudad de playa, lo que hace que siempre haya tiempo para disfrutar del mar y del agua. Este año, sin embargo, decidimos quedarnos porque el verano ya estaba bastante lleno: campamentos, visitas en casa, trabajo y un próximo viaje familiar a Colorado.

Hay ciertas ansiedades que siempre aparecen para mí durante el verano.

¿Están aprovechando bien su tiempo?

¿Están aprendiendo algo?

¿Están pasando demasiado tiempo frente a las pantallas?

¿Están comiendo demasiada comida chatarra?

Todas esas preguntas terminan llevándome al mismo lugar:

¿Estamos haciendo lo suficiente?

Y debajo de esa pregunta hay otra todavía más personal:

¿Estoy haciendo lo suficiente como mamá?

¿Debería hacer más?

¿Organizar más actividades?

¿Inscribirlos en más cosas?

¿Exigirles más?

Más.

Más.

Más.

Creo que el verano puede ser especialmente complicado para quienes trabajamos. Sentimos el deseo de bajar el ritmo y disfrutar estas semanas con nuestros hijos, mientras seguimos respondiendo a las responsabilidades del trabajo. Queremos avanzar en nuestras propias metas y, al mismo tiempo, crear un verano inolvidable para ellos.

Pero también creo que el verano debería ofrecerles algo que cada vez es más difícil de encontrar: la oportunidad de bajar el ritmo. De aburrirse. De resolver las cosas por sí mismos. De pasar tiempo con sus amigos. De inventar maneras de divertirse sin que cada hora del día esté planeada.

Así que, cuando noto que empiezo a sentirme jalada en distintas direcciones, regreso a algo que se ha convertido en un principio para mi forma de criar: primero manejarme a mí misma.

En lugar de educar desde la ansiedad, intento educar desde los principios.

Estos son los principios que han guiado nuestro verano:

Compartir la responsabilidad

• Los niños preparan su propio desayuno si deciden levantarse tarde.

• Cada uno se hace cargo de su ropa y de lavar su propia ropa cuando lo necesita.

• Ellos son responsables de encontrar maneras de entretenerse una vez que termina el tiempo de pantallas.

Crear un ritmo

• Todos los días hay un equilibrio entre tiempo frente a las pantallas y algún tipo de actividad, dentro o fuera de la casa.

• Yo organizo una actividad en grupo a la semana; el resto depende de ellos.

Mantenernos conectados

• Los niños y yo estamos participando en el reto de lectura de verano de nuestra biblioteca local.

• Si ellos no tienen planes propios, nos acompañan a hacer mandados o a cualquier actividad que nosotros tengamos planeada.

Me gustaría decir que he seguido estos principios perfectamente todos los días. No ha sido así. Ha habido tardes en las que me he preguntado si ya vieron demasiada televisión, momentos en los que he sentido la tentación de intervenir para resolver problemas que probablemente ellos podían resolver solos, y días en los que el trabajo ha demandado más de mi atención de la que hubiera querido darle. Estos principios no han eliminado mi ansiedad; simplemente me han dado un lugar al cual regresar cuando vuelve a aparecer.

Aun así, algo ha cambiado.

La energía en nuestra casa se ha sentido mucho más tranquila este verano. Eso no significa que todos los días hayan sido pacíficos. Hemos tenido discusiones por la hora de dormir, quejas de aburrimiento y momentos en los que alguien —incluyéndome a mí— ha estado de muy mal humor. Pero cuando miro hacia atrás estas últimas semanas, ha habido menos gritos, menos conflictos y una mayor disposición de todos para colaborar.

Trabajar en manejar mi propia ansiedad por la productividad del verano no ha creado un verano perfecto, pero sí creo que ha contribuido a un clima emocional más tranquilo en nuestra casa. Ese ambiente no ha eliminado los conflictos ni la frustración; seguimos teniendo ambos. Lo que sí creo que ha hecho es crear más espacio para que nuestra familia responda desde nuestros principios en lugar de responder desde la ansiedad.

Al mirar hacia atrás, ha habido varios momentos que han llamado mi atención, no porque fueran extraordinarios, sino porque reflejan aquello que hemos estado intentando cultivar en nuestra familia: empatía, responsabilidad, reparación y conexión.

Uno ocurrió cuando estábamos decidiendo si invitar amigos a celebrar el 4 de julio, después de haber tenido visitas hospedadas en casa durante dos semanas. Yo quería recibirlos, pero mi esposo confesó que estaba agotado y que no tenía energía para hacerlo. Nuestro hijo mayor —el más sociable y relajado de los tres— estaba emocionado con la idea de tener gente en casa. Mientras mi esposo y yo hablábamos sobre nuestros diferentes puntos de vista, él miró a su papá y le dijo:

“A mí me encantaría que vinieran, pero te entiendo. Entiendo todo el trabajo que eso implicaría para ti.”

Fue un comentario muy sencillo, pero me hizo detenerme por un momento. Pude ver lo conmovido que estaba mi esposo. Nuestro hijo no solo estaba expresando lo que él quería; también estaba siendo capaz de considerar la experiencia de otra persona. Fue un pequeño vistazo de una empatía que poco a poco va tomando forma.

Otro momento ocurrió cuando mi hijo de en medio perdió su cartera. Era la segunda vez que le pasaba. La primera vez fui yo quien terminó encontrándola, y sabía que, en el fondo, él esperaba que volviera a pasar lo mismo.

Esa noche, durante la cena, hablamos del tema. Mi esposo se molestó, no solo porque la cartera tenía dinero y su tarjeta de débito, sino porque representaba algo más profundo: responsabilidad.

Su frustración era comprensible.

Lo que me llamó la atención no fue que se enojara.

Fue la manera en que manejó ese enojo.

La conversación fue intensa, pero nunca se convirtió en una pelea. Hablaron del tema, cancelaron la tarjeta, conversaron sobre la importancia del orden y la responsabilidad y, cuando todo terminó, mi esposo le pidió un abrazo a nuestro hijo.

La lección ya se había compartido.

Ahora era momento de volver a conectarse.

Ese momento fue especialmente significativo para mí porque hemos hablado muchas veces sobre la importancia de la reparación: de cómo un conflicto no tiene por qué terminar en distancia emocional. Ver a mi esposo buscar intencionalmente esa reconexión me recordó que el crecimiento suele ocurrir silenciosamente, una interacción a la vez.

Otro momento ocurrió durante una de nuestras cenas de viernes.

Las cenas de los viernes se han convertido en una tradición familiar. A veces salimos a cenar y otras pedimos pizza y nos quedamos en casa, pero de alguna manera esas noches casi siempre terminan en conversaciones interesantes. Como habíamos tenido visitas durante buena parte del verano, hacía varias semanas que no teníamos una.

Esa noche estábamos hablando del Mundial y de lo que significa sentirse leal a un país cuando uno de nuestros hijos dijo de repente:

“Extrañaba estas cenas. Hace mucho que no teníamos una.”

Mi esposo y yo nos miramos y sonreímos.Fue uno de esos momentos que les recuerdan silenciosamente a los padres que aquello por lo que a veces se preguntan sí está dejando huella.

Las conversaciones.

Las tradiciones.

El simple hecho de estar juntos.

Esta semana nos vamos a Colorado y estoy emocionada por compartir otra semana en familia. Estoy segura de que habrá momentos de conexión, momentos de frustración y momentos en los que volveré a preguntarme si estamos aprovechando el viaje al máximo.

¿Habré planeado lo suficiente?

Pero este verano me ha recordado algo que espero no olvidar. Los niños no necesariamente necesitan padres que llenen cada hora del día con actividades o que conviertan cada momento en algo extraordinario.

Necesitan padres que proporcionen estructura.

Que mantengan expectativas claras.

Que creen rituales familiares.

Que sepan reparar después del conflicto.

Y, quizá lo más importante, necesitan padres que sigan trabajando en sí mismos: aprendiendo a manejar las distintas ansiedades que trae cada etapa, notando cuándo la ansiedad comienza a tomar el control y regresando, una y otra vez, a los valores y principios que quieren que guíen a su familia.

Tal vez ese sea el verdadero trabajo de ser padres.

No crear el verano perfecto.

Sino crear el tipo de clima emocional donde todos los miembros de la familia tengan espacio para seguir creciendo.

¿Cómo va tu verano?

Leave a comment

In my last post, I shared about my two older sons leaving for summer camp. This weekend, we picked them up. They were both happy, and the growth was evident in each of them.

The day before we picked them up, we received an email from the camp director regarding a situation that had occurred in my oldest son’s cabin. He is 14 years old. His cabin was the senior cabin, with boys ranging from 13 to 15 years old—all boys, all curious. The email explained that, while answering campers’ questions, one of the counselors had engaged in discussions about sexual topics. The director emphasized that this was against camp policies, strictly prohibited, and addressed during counselor training. The counselor had been dismissed that morning.

To be honest, I felt sorry for the counselor.

I have worked with teenagers, and I understand the pull to answer curious minds. I can relate to the feeling that you can provide answers and that by sharing your own experiences, you are helping guide developing young people. At the same time, I could also understand the camp director’s decision. I have been in leadership positions, felt the responsibility of caring for children, and know how heavy that responsibility can be. From the director’s perspective, there may simply be no room for gray areas. It is an off-limits topic, something to be discussed elsewhere and the parent’s responsibility to address. I respected his decision.

My first instinct was to write back and ask a hundred questions. What exactly had been discussed? How far had the conversation gone? I wanted to know everything so I could talk with my son and address it thoroughly.

But something about that didn’t feel right.

As I reflected on it, I decided to wait and let my son tell me what had happened. He does not usually share every detail of his life, so I worried he might leave things out, but I decided to trust the process. When we picked him up, I didn’t bring it up. I focused on hearing about camp, his friends, and all the fun he had. A couple of days later, when we happened to be alone together, I decided to ask.

While I was still curious about the content of the conversation, my primary goal was to hear his perspective.

As I have discussed before, I believe conversations about sexuality involve much more than sex. Over the years, I have made it a practice to talk about these topics regularly at home. Because of that, I wasn’t overly worried. More than anything, I wanted to understand his experience.

I told him that the director had sent parents an email and asked him what had happened.

He was surprisingly open.

He explained that it was somewhat of a camp tradition for campers to ask counselors questions about sex on the last day of camp. The previous year, the counselor had shut down the conversation. This year, a counselor had chosen to answer their questions.

He shared that he felt guilty because the campers had contributed to the counselor losing his job, but he could also recognize that the counselor should not have answered the questions in the first place. We talked about how the director may have found out. He wasn’t sure, but his theory was that a camper may have felt uncomfortable and shared it with another counselor, who then informed the director. He immediately acknowledged that the camper had every right to do so if he felt uncomfortable.

That initial response made me proud.

From my perspective, he was experiencing appropriate feelings: empathy toward the counselor who lost his job and empathy toward a camper who may have felt uncomfortable. I agreed that I also felt bad for the counselor and acknowledged that he had made a difficult mistake that carried significant consequences.

I then asked what kinds of questions had been discussed.

That’s when I noticed a shift.

He became noticeably less comfortable. He shared one example but then became vague, describing the rest as “just personal questions about sex.” I asked if he preferred not to share the details, and he said yes.

I told him that was okay.

He didn’t have to tell me everything. Instead, I asked whether there was anything he had heard that he didn’t understand or anything that left him confused.

He said no. Had we never discussed these topics before, he thought he might have had questions. But because we had talked about them over the years, he felt confident in what he already knew.

I felt the impulse to keep asking questions. I wanted to know the full extent of the conversation. I wanted all the details.

But I let the impulse pass.

Because if I want to keep this channel of communication open, I also need to respect his growing need for privacy.

The reality is that our children have lives that extend beyond us. They have a right to their own thoughts, friendships, experiences, and conversations. One of the challenges of parenting adolescents is learning to tolerate not knowing everything. We often seek information because it helps us feel in control. But maintaining an open relationship sometimes requires us to resist that impulse and trust that our children can navigate parts of their world independently.

I am still curious about what was discussed in that cabin. But I am also confident that I have talked enough with my son for him to know that I would happily answer any question he brings to me. I am equally confident that by showing restraint, I communicated something important: respect and trust.

At the same time, this experience gave me something new to think about. It reminded me that one of the messages I want to continue emphasizing in our conversations is that sexuality is deeply personal. We can learn from other people’s experiences and perspectives, but what feels right for one person may not feel right for another.

As our children grow, they will hear stories, advice, and opinions from friends, older peers, and countless other sources. My goal is not to shield them from those conversations but to help them evaluate them through the lens of self-awareness, their values, and the kind of life and relationships they hope to build.

I know this will not be the last conversation we have about camp or about sexuality in general. I won’t ask for more details, but I also know that when these topics are normalized, new opportunities for conversation continue to emerge. The key is recognizing them and stepping into them when they arise.

Here are a few reminders that have helped me approach these discussions with my own children.

Think of sexuality as an ongoing conversation rather than a lesson you need to teach.

When we feel responsible for teaching content, our tone often becomes more formal and pressured. When we approach sexuality as a conversation, we can show up more relaxed, curious, and comfortable.

Consider your child’s developmental stage, but treat it as a guideline rather than a strict metric.

This conversation would have looked very different with my youngest son, who is 10 years old. I likely would have been more interested in understanding the specifics of what had been discussed so I could help him process the information.

Consider your child’s level of exposure.

Younger siblings are often exposed to conversations and information earlier than their older siblings were at the same age. Think about the friends they spend time with, the conversations happening at school, the content they encounter online, and the amount of unsupervised time they have with peers.

These factors influence how much information they are already receiving from outside sources.

Start by asking what they have heard.

Ask what they know, what they have heard from friends, or what kids their age are talking about. Sometimes it is easier to begin by talking generally rather than making the conversation immediately personal.

Don’t try to cover everything in a single conversation.

“The talk” places too much pressure on everyone involved.

Instead, think about the key ideas you want your child to understand at their current age and focus on those. This approach communicates that sexuality is simply another topic discussed in your home—not something that is off limits.

Use everyday opportunities.

Television shows, movies, podcasts, advertisements, social media posts, and real-life situations all provide opportunities to talk. Ask questions. Explore the messages being communicated. Stay curious about your child’s perspective.

Focus on connection.

In a previous post, I shared a simple formula that guides me when discussing difficult topics:

Information + Values + Casual Conversation = Connection

During my conversation with my son, I wasn’t trying to convince him that the counselor was wrong. I wasn’t trying to force him into sharing details he didn’t want to share. As much as I wanted to know everything, his willingness to talk openly and his thoughtful response told me what I needed to know.

My job was not to fact-check the conversation.

My job was to be there for him and accompany him through the experience.

For me, this experience reinforced why conversations about sexuality matter.

Children’s curiosity will emerge whether we are ready for it or not. They will encounter questions, conversations, opinions, and information from friends, older peers, the internet, social media, and countless other sources. Even when we make these topics part of family life, we cannot control every conversation they have or every message they receive.

And perhaps that is not the goal.

The goal is not to be our children’s only source of information. The goal is to remain a trusted source of guidance as they make sense of what they encounter. We cannot eliminate outside influences, but we can provide a counterbalance—one grounded in accurate information, thoughtful reflection, and our family values. As they grow, our role shifts from managing every interaction to helping them develop the judgment to navigate those experiences for themselves. Trust becomes just as important as information.

I may never know exactly what was discussed in that cabin, and that is okay. What matters most is that my son knows where he can turn if he ever wants to talk about it.

En mi publicación anterior compartí que mis dos hijos mayores se habían ido al campamento de verano. Este fin de semana fuimos por ellos. Ambos estaban felices y el crecimiento era evidente en cada uno de ellos.

Un día antes de recogerlos, recibimos un correo electrónico del director del campamento sobre una situación que había ocurrido en la cabaña de mi hijo mayor. Tiene 14 años. Su cabaña era la de los mayores, con chicos de entre 13 y 15 años: todos varones, todos curiosos.

El correo explicaba que, mientras respondía preguntas de los campistas, uno de los consejeros había entablado conversaciones sobre temas sexuales. El director enfatizó que esto iba en contra de las políticas del campamento, que estaba estrictamente prohibido y que era un tema abordado durante la capacitación de los consejeros. Ese mismo día, el consejero había sido despedido.

Para ser honesta, sentí lástima por él.

He trabajado con adolescentes y entiendo la tentación de responder a mentes curiosas. Puedo identificarme con la sensación de creer que puedes ofrecer respuestas y que, al compartir tus propias experiencias, estás ayudando a orientar a jóvenes en desarrollo. Al mismo tiempo, también podía entender la decisión del director. He ocupado puestos de liderazgo, he sentido la responsabilidad de cuidar niños y sé lo pesada que puede ser esa responsabilidad. Desde la perspectiva del director, quizá simplemente no hay espacio para áreas grises. Es un tema fuera de los límites del campamento, algo que debe discutirse en otro lugar y que corresponde a los padres abordar. Respeté su decisión.

Mi primer impulso fue responder al correo con una larga lista de preguntas. ¿Qué exactamente se había discutido? ¿Hasta dónde había llegado la conversación? Quería saberlo todo para poder hablar con mi hijo y abordar el tema a fondo.

Pero algo de eso no me pareció correcto.

Después de reflexionarlo, decidí esperar y dejar que fuera mi hijo quien me contara lo que había ocurrido. Él no suele compartir cada detalle de su vida, así que me preocupaba que omitiera cosas, pero decidí confiar en el proceso. Cuando lo recogimos, no mencioné el tema. Me concentré en escuchar sobre el campamento, sus amigos y toda la diversión que había tenido. Un par de días después, cuando estábamos solos, decidí preguntarle.

Aunque seguía teniendo curiosidad por el contenido de la conversación, mi principal objetivo era escuchar su perspectiva.

Como he comentado antes, creo que las conversaciones sobre sexualidad abarcan mucho más que el sexo. A lo largo de los años he procurado hablar de estos temas con regularidad en casa. Por eso no estaba particularmente preocupada. Más que nada, quería comprender su experiencia. Le conté que el director había enviado un correo a los padres y le pregunté qué había sucedido.

Sorprendentemente, fue muy abierto.

Me explicó que existe una especie de tradición en el campamento: el último día, los campistas hacen preguntas sobre sexo a los consejeros. El año anterior, el consejero había puesto fin a la conversación. Este año, un consejero decidió responder sus preguntas.

Me contó que se sentía culpable porque los campistas habían contribuido a que el consejero perdiera su trabajo, pero también reconocía que el consejero no debería haber respondido esas preguntas desde un principio.

Hablamos sobre cómo el director pudo haberse enterado. No estaba seguro, pero su teoría era que algún campista se sintió incómodo y se lo comentó a otro consejero, quien a su vez informó al director. Inmediatamente reconoció que ese campista tenía todo el derecho de decir algo si se había sentido incómodo.

Esa respuesta inicial me hizo sentir orgullosa.

Desde mi perspectiva, estaba experimentando sentimientos apropiados: empatía hacia el consejero que había perdido su trabajo y empatía hacia el campista que pudo haberse sentido incómodo. Le dije que yo también sentía pena por el consejero y reconocí que había cometido un error difícil que tuvo consecuencias importantes.

Después le pregunté qué tipo de preguntas habían surgido.

Fue entonces cuando noté un cambio.

Se mostró visiblemente más incómodo. Compartió un ejemplo, pero después comenzó a responder de manera más vaga, describiendo el resto como “simplemente preguntas personales sobre sexo”. Le pregunté si prefería no compartir los detalles y me dijo que sí. Le dije que estaba bien. No tenía que contarme todo. En lugar de insistir, le pregunté si había algo de lo que había escuchado que no hubiera entendido o que le hubiera generado confusión.

Me dijo que no. Comentó que, si nunca hubiéramos hablado de estos temas antes, probablemente habría tenido preguntas. Pero como habíamos conversado sobre ellos a lo largo de los años, se sentía seguro de lo que ya sabía.

Sentí el impulso de seguir preguntando. Quería conocer todos los detalles de la conversación. Quería saber exactamente qué se había dicho. Pero dejé pasar ese impulso. Porque si quiero mantener abierto este canal de comunicación, también necesito respetar su creciente necesidad de privacidad.

La realidad es que nuestros hijos tienen una vida que se extiende más allá de nosotros. Tienen derecho a sus propios pensamientos, amistades, experiencias y conversaciones. Uno de los desafíos de criar adolescentes es aprender a tolerar no saberlo todo. Muchas veces buscamos información porque nos ayuda a sentir que tenemos el control. Sin embargo, mantener una relación abierta a veces requiere resistir ese impulso y confiar en que nuestros hijos pueden desenvolverse de manera independiente en partes de su mundo.

Sigo sintiendo curiosidad por lo que se discutió en esa cabaña. Pero también estoy convencida de que he hablado lo suficiente con mi hijo para que sepa que respondería con gusto cualquier pregunta que quisiera hacerme. También estoy convencida de que, al mostrar moderación, le comuniqué algo importante: respeto y confianza.

Al mismo tiempo, esta experiencia me dio algo nuevo en qué pensar. Me recordó que uno de los mensajes que quiero seguir enfatizando en nuestras conversaciones es que la sexualidad es profundamente personal. Podemos aprender de las experiencias y perspectivas de otras personas, pero lo que se siente correcto para una persona puede no sentirse correcto para otra.

A medida que nuestros hijos crecen, escucharán historias, consejos y opiniones de amigos, compañeros mayores y muchas otras fuentes. Mi objetivo no es protegerlos de esas conversaciones, sino ayudarlos a evaluarlas a través del lente de la autoconciencia, sus valores y el tipo de vida y relaciones que desean construir.

Sé que esta no será la última conversación que tendremos sobre el campamento o sobre sexualidad en general. No voy a pedir más detalles, pero también sé que cuando estos temas se normalizan, siguen surgiendo nuevas oportunidades para conversar. La clave está en reconocerlas y estar dispuestos a entrar en ellas cuando aparecen.

Aquí comparto algunas ideas que me han ayudado a abordar estas conversaciones con mis propios hijos.

Piensa en la sexualidad como una conversación continua, no como una lección que debes enseñar.

Cuando sentimos la responsabilidad de enseñar contenido, nuestro tono suele volverse más formal y cargado de presión. Cuando abordamos la sexualidad como una conversación, podemos presentarnos de manera más relajada, curiosa y cómoda.

Considera la etapa de desarrollo de tu hijo, pero tómala como una guía, no como una regla rígida.

Esta conversación habría sido muy diferente con mi hijo menor, que tiene 10 años. Probablemente habría estado más interesada en entender exactamente qué se había discutido para ayudarlo a procesar la información.

Considera el nivel de exposición de tu hijo.

Los hermanos menores suelen estar expuestos a conversaciones e información antes de la edad en la que sus hermanos mayores lo estuvieron. Piensa en los amigos con los que conviven, las conversaciones que ocurren en la escuela, el contenido que encuentran en línea y el tiempo que pasan con otros jóvenes sin supervisión directa.

Todos estos factores influyen en la cantidad de información que ya están recibiendo de fuentes externas.

Empieza preguntando qué han escuchado.

Pregúntales qué saben, qué han escuchado de sus amigos o de qué hablan los niños de su edad. A veces es más fácil comenzar hablando en términos generales antes de hacer la conversación algo personal.

No intentes cubrirlo todo en una sola conversación.

“La plática” pone demasiada presión sobre todos los involucrados.

En lugar de eso, piensa en las ideas clave que quieres que tu hijo comprenda en esta etapa de su vida y enfócate en ellas. Este enfoque comunica que la sexualidad es simplemente otro tema del que se habla en casa, no algo prohibido o fuera de los límites.

Aprovecha las oportunidades de la vida cotidiana.

Programas de televisión, películas, podcasts, anuncios publicitarios, publicaciones en redes sociales y situaciones de la vida real pueden convertirse en oportunidades para conversar. Haz preguntas. Explora los mensajes que se están comunicando. Mantente curioso sobre la perspectiva de tu hijo.

Enfócate en la conexión.

En una publicación anterior compartí una fórmula sencilla que me guía cuando hablo de temas difíciles:

Información + Valores + Conversación Casual = Conexión

Durante mi conversación con mi hijo, no estaba intentando convencerlo de que el consejero había actuado mal. Tampoco estaba intentando obligarlo a compartir detalles que no quería compartir. Aunque yo quería saberlo todo, su disposición para hablar y la manera reflexiva en que respondió me dieron la información que realmente necesitaba.

Mi trabajo no era verificar los hechos de la conversación.

Mi trabajo era estar ahí para él y acompañarlo en la experiencia.

Para mí, esta situación reforzó la importancia de hablar sobre sexualidad con nuestros hijos.

La curiosidad aparecerá, estemos preparados o no. Nuestros hijos se encontrarán con preguntas, conversaciones, opiniones e información provenientes de amigos, compañeros mayores, internet, redes sociales y muchas otras fuentes. Incluso cuando estos temas forman parte de la vida familiar, no podemos controlar cada conversación que tienen ni cada mensaje al que están expuestos.

Y quizás ese nunca ha sido el objetivo.

El objetivo no es convertirnos en la única fuente de información de nuestros hijos. El objetivo es seguir siendo una fuente confiable de orientación mientras dan sentido a lo que encuentran. No podemos eliminar las influencias externas, pero sí podemos ofrecer un contrapeso basado en información adecuada, reflexión y los valores de nuestra familia.

A medida que crecen, nuestro papel cambia. Dejamos de intentar gestionar cada interacción y pasamos a ayudarles a desarrollar el criterio necesario para navegar sus propias experiencias. La confianza se vuelve tan importante como la información.

Puede que nunca sepa exactamente qué se discutió en aquella cabaña, y está bien. Lo que más importa es que mi hijo sepa dónde puede acudir si alguna vez quiere hablar de ello.

As my sons prepare for summer camp, I am reflecting on the impact of adults leading the way, with confidence, trusting that they can see the big picture and making decisions that align with those objectives. I am republishing this post for all families trying new experiences this summer and for all parents working on trusting their leadership.

Subscribe now

My oldest son is going to summer camp this weekend. It’s his first two-week, sleepaway camp—and he could not be more excited. I’m excited for him too; I think it will be a great experience.

As I was reading the parent packet in preparation for opening day, two phrases caught my attention and got me reflecting. The first is the camp’s mission: "Dedicated to having fun together, helping people grow in body, mind, and spirit." It sounds simple, but isn’t this what life is all about? Growing in body, mind, and spirit—and hopefully having fun along the journey?

The second phrase that stood out to me had more to do with the practical aspects of how this camp works to fulfill that mission. When talking about campers’ schedules and activities, the packet states:

What do these camp staff know that we parents might be missing?

To clarify, campers do get to select which activities they want to participate in during their stay at camp. Several months before arrival, families receive a list of all the activities available, and campers, with help from their parents, rank them from most to least preferred. Campers have a say in what they’re interested in and what they think they’ll enjoy. This ranking doesn’t guarantee they’ll get all their top choices—or that they won’t end up in an activity they’re not thrilled about—but, going back to the mission, it’s likely their schedule will still be full of fun.

When kids arrive at camp, they are handed their schedule—and that’s it. The next day, they’re expected to report to and participate in their assigned activities.

So, what does not having the option to opt out accomplish?

First, it sends a clear message to the camper: not everything in life will go exactly as you hoped. You may have wanted to do sailing, but you were assigned canoeing instead. The camp knows that kids will grow from this experience—whether they end up liking the activity or not. Regardless of the outcome, there will be growth: in body, mind, and spirit.

Second, it reinforces that while campers had a voice in shaping their schedule, ultimately, the camp is in charge. They see the bigger picture. They know how to create balanced schedules and must consider the logistics and needs of all the campers—not just one.

What can parents learn from how camp is run?

I believe our biggest mission as parents is to help our kids grow—to support their journey in becoming capable, resilient adults. Just like at camp, I want my kids to have fun along the way, but growth remains the priority.

The current landscape of parenting, however, seems to operate under a different mission: the pursuit of happy kids. Phrases like child-centered, child-led, or even parenting theories like gentle parenting have, in many cases, shifted the focus almost exclusively to the child’s comfort and feelings. The child gets to decide, the child gets to control—ultimately, the child runs the show.

But this approach is not conducive to real growth. In the long run, it may create bigger challenges for both the child and the family.

Of course we all want happy kids—but happiness should not be the goal of parenting. Growth, character development, and preparation for life should be our focus.

What I admire about the camp staff is that they have no confusion about their role. They don’t hesitate to decide what campers will do. They don’t question whether requiring participation—even in less-than-preferred activities—is beneficial. They understand that not allowing campers to opt out is a crucial part of the learning process.

They’re not unkind or disrespectful while doing it. They simply know that their role is to lead and guide campers toward growth.

This is where I see many parents get stuck—uncertain about their own role. Our job is not to make life easy for our kids, or to accommodate every discomfort. Our job is to lead. To think about the bigger picture. To be the steady hand that keeps the family mission in focus, and to guide our children accordingly.

What are parents to do?

First, we as parents need to become aware of what we believe our mission is. Where are we focusing our energy? Are we prioritizing our child’s immediate happiness, or are we focusing on their growth?

Then, we need to observe and question our daily practices:

• How often do we allow our child to opt out of discomfort or challenge?

• What messages are we sending through those choices?

• How can we become more intentional and clear about what we believe will help our child grow?

• What are we willing to do and not do to accomplish our mission of helping our children grow?

Every child is different and will have unique needs to support their development. But as long as the parent is clear on their role—and is consistently working toward that mission of growth by setting expectations and boundaries—the child will be guided in a healthy direction.

Children need to know that their parents are in charge. They may express frustration or resistance, but when kids sense that their parents are confidently leading, they are left free to be children. They can explore safely within the boundaries that have been set. They grow up with the internalized knowledge that they can rely on their parents to make the hard decisions—so they don’t have to carry that burden.

As parents, our greatest responsibility is not to shield our children from every discomfort, but to guide them with intention, clarity, and love. Like the camp staff who design experiences to foster growth, we too must lead with purpose—grounded in the belief that growth often comes through challenge. When we embrace our role as steady leaders in our children’s lives, we offer them something far greater than momentary happiness: we give them the foundation to thrive, the confidence to explore, and the trust that someone is holding the bigger picture.

So I’d love to know—how do you see your role as a parent? What is your mission?
What guides your decisions, especially in the moments when your child is uncomfortable, frustrated, or pushing back?

Let’s keep this conversation going. Growth—for us and our kids—is never a solo journey.

Leave a comment

P.S. My son had a great time at camp and the growth he experienced was evident in many ways. It was such a great experience that he is going back this summer, now joined by one of his brothers!

Many of us grew up in families where feelings were not discussed openly. Emotions were often minimized, redirected, or expected to be managed privately. Strength was associated with pushing through, staying composed, and fulfilling responsibilities.

Today, the pendulum has shifted. Feelings are now at the center of many conversations about parenting, relationships, education, and mental health. Children are encouraged to express themselves, parents are encouraged to validate emotions, and emotional awareness is increasingly viewed as essential to wellbeing. In many ways, this shift has brought important growth. We understand far more about emotional development and the impact relationships have on mental health. But as with many cultural shifts, new questions emerge alongside the progress.

• What is the difference between acknowledging feelings and organizing family life around them?

• How do we help children recognize emotions without teaching them that emotions should always determine decisions?

• How do we stay thoughtful in the presence of strong feelings—our children’s and our own?

• How do we model emotion regulation for our children?

These are some of the reflections that emerged for me while reading this book and listening to the perspectives shared in our group.

In the book, Marc Brackett offers perspectives and strategies for understanding and managing emotions, ultimately helping us use our emotions in ways that support our goals and relationships.

At one point he writes:

“Virtually everything that has happened in your life—good, bad, happy, sad, frustrating, satisfying, joyous, discouraging, depressing—was influenced by how you responded to your emotions. How you dealt with your feelings.”

I find this powerful.

How much of our success and failure has more to do with how we manage our emotions than with what we actually did or did not do? That is definitely something worth reflecting on.

Throughout the book, Dr. Brackett guides readers through understanding emotions and emotional regulation. He describes a more useful way of labeling feelings—not as “good” or “bad,” but in terms of pleasure and energy. He invites us to become more granular and expand our emotional vocabulary beyond simply happy, sad, or angry. Our emotional experience is rich, and our language for emotions should reflect that richness. A large part of the book focuses on strategies for managing emotions. Some strategies are centered on calming our automatic reactions, while others are cognitive strategies that help us gain distance and perspective. Still others are relational strategies that involve the people around us. He invites us to become “emotional scientists,” constantly evaluating whether a particular strategy helped us achieve our relational goals.

According to Dr. Brackett, the ultimate goal of becoming better at managing our emotions is becoming the best version of ourselves—a version that can be present in all areas of life, make better decisions, maintain healthy relationships, experience greater wellbeing and mental health, find meaning and purpose, and move toward personal and professional goals.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a really good version to aspire to become.

I used this book as the latest selection for my parent book club. It is a small group where we read parenting books—or books that I believe can have a positive impact on family life and personal growth. This was definitely a meaningful selection. Sometimes the best parenting work we can do is working on ourselves.

I believe personal growth is a lifelong journey. It requires the humility to recognize that there are still areas where we are growing and learning. I don’t think anyone has mastered the art of regulating emotions completely. Even Dr. Brackett himself shares that this is something he continues to actively work on. Despite developing a theory, founding a center at Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence, and teaching these concepts for decades, he still needs to intentionally engage with his emotions, label them, and decide what strategies to use in different situations.

One of my biggest takeaways from this book is an important clarification: emotional intelligence is not simply about expressing emotions. It is about managing them. There is a big difference.

Expressing emotions is the first step, but we cannot stop there. We must also learn how to regulate, contain, and thoughtfully respond to them.

I think this is an especially important clarification for parents. Sometimes, in the name of validating feelings and encouraging emotional expression, we miss the opportunity to also help children learn regulation. Emotional validation and emotional leadership are not opposites. Children need both.

Perhaps that is where the real work lies—not in suppressing emotions, but also not in being completely governed by them. The goal is not to eliminate feelings, nor to place them at the center of every decision, but to learn how to recognize them, understand them, and respond thoughtfully in their presence.

That kind of emotional work is not quick or automatic. It requires awareness, humility, practice, and the willingness to continue growing over time. The difference in outcomes does not come from natural ability or talent. It comes from the intentional effort we put into this work. It is through small, active, continuous steps that we move forward and continue progressing toward becoming better versions of ourselves as we learn to manage our emotions.

As parents, this may be one of the most important things we model for our children. Not perfection. Not constant calm. But the ability to pause, reflect, repair, and continue working on ourselves.

Because emotional maturity is not built in a single moment of insight. It is built slowly, through the repeated and intentional practice of learning how to deal with our feelings.

If you like reading, learning and sharing with other parents and would like to join my book club, send me a message!

Muchos de nosotros crecimos en familias donde los sentimientos no se hablaban abiertamente. Las emociones eran minimizadas, redirigidas o se esperaba que se manejaran de manera privada. La fortaleza estaba asociada con seguir adelante, mantenerse compuesto y cumplir con las responsabilidades.

Hoy, el péndulo ha cambiado. Los sentimientos están ahora en el centro de muchas conversaciones sobre crianza, relaciones, educación y salud mental. Se anima a los niños a expresarse, se anima a los padres a validar las emociones y la conciencia emocional es vista cada vez más como esencial para el bienestar. En muchos sentidos, este cambio ha traído un crecimiento importante. Entendemos mucho más sobre el desarrollo emocional y el impacto que tienen las relaciones en la salud mental. Pero, como sucede con muchos cambios culturales, junto con el progreso también surgen nuevas preguntas.

• ¿Cuál es la diferencia entre reconocer los sentimientos y organizar la vida familiar alrededor de ellos?

• ¿Cómo ayudamos a los niños a reconocer sus emociones sin enseñarles que las emociones deben determinar siempre sus decisiones?

• ¿Cómo nos mantenemos reflexivos y pensantes en presencia de emociones intensas —las de nuestros hijos y las nuestras?

• ¿Cómo modelamos la regulación emocional para nuestros hijos?

Estas son algunas de las reflexiones que surgieron para mí mientras leía este libro y escuchaba las perspectivas compartidas en nuestro grupo.

En el libro, Marc Brackett ofrece perspectivas y estrategias para comprender y manejar las emociones, ayudándonos finalmente a usar nuestras emociones de maneras que apoyen nuestras metas y relaciones.

En un momento escribe:

“Prácticamente todo lo que ha sucedido en tu vida —bueno, malo, feliz, triste, frustrante, satisfactorio, alegre, desalentador o deprimente— estuvo influenciado por cómo respondiste a tus emociones. Por cómo manejaste tus sentimientos.”

Esto me parece muy poderoso.

¿Cuánto de nuestro éxito y fracaso tiene más que ver con cómo manejamos nuestras emociones que con lo que realmente hicimos o dejamos de hacer? Definitivamente es algo sobre lo cual vale la pena reflexionar.

A lo largo del libro, el Dr. Brackett guía al lector en la comprensión de las emociones y la regulación emocional. Describe una manera más útil de etiquetar los sentimientos: no como “buenos” o “malos”, sino en términos de placer y energía. Nos invita a ser más específicos y expandir nuestro vocabulario emocional más allá de simplemente feliz, triste o enojado. Nuestra experiencia emocional es rica, y nuestro lenguaje emocional también debería reflejar esa riqueza.

Gran parte del libro se enfoca en estrategias para manejar las emociones. Algunas estrategias están dirigidas a calmar nuestras reacciones automáticas, mientras que otras son estrategias cognitivas que nos ayudan a tomar distancia y ganar perspectiva. Otras más son estrategias relacionales que involucran a las personas a nuestro alrededor. Él nos invita a convertirnos en “científicos emocionales”, evaluando constantemente si una estrategia particular nos ayudó a alcanzar nuestros objetivos relacionales.

Según el Dr. Brackett, el objetivo final de aprender a manejar mejor nuestras emociones es convertirnos en la mejor versión de nosotros mismos: una versión capaz de estar presente en todas las áreas de la vida, tomar mejores decisiones, mantener relaciones saludables, experimentar mayor bienestar y salud mental, encontrar significado y propósito, y avanzar hacia metas personales y profesionales.

No sé ustedes, pero eso suena como una muy buena versión de mí misma a la cual aspirar.

Elegí este libro como la más reciente selección de mi club de lectura para padres. Es un grupo pequeño donde leemos libros de crianza —o libros que considero pueden tener un impacto positivo en la vida familiar y el crecimiento personal. Definitivamente fue una selección muy significativa.

A veces, el mejor trabajo de crianza que podemos hacer es trabajar en nosotros mismos.

Creo que el crecimiento personal es un camino de toda la vida. Requiere la humildad de reconocer que todavía hay áreas en las que seguimos creciendo y aprendiendo. No creo que nadie haya dominado completamente el arte de regular sus emociones. Incluso el mismo Dr. Brackett comparte que esto es algo en lo que continúa trabajando activamente. A pesar de haber desarrollado una teoría, fundado el Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence y enseñado estos conceptos durante décadas, todavía necesita involucrarse intencionalmente con sus emociones, nombrarlas y decidir qué estrategias utilizar en distintas situaciones.

Uno de los aprendizajes más importantes que me deja este libro es una aclaración fundamental: la inteligencia emocional no se trata simplemente de expresar emociones. Se trata de manejarlas. Y hay una gran diferencia.

Expresar emociones es el primer paso, pero no podemos quedarnos ahí. También debemos aprender a regularlas, contenerlas y responder de manera reflexiva ante ellas.

Creo que esta es una aclaración especialmente importante para los padres. A veces, en nombre de validar sentimientos y permitir la expresión emocional, perdemos la oportunidad de también ayudar a nuestros hijos a aprender regulación emocional. La validación emocional y el liderazgo emocional no son opuestos. Los niños necesitan ambos.

Quizá ahí es donde realmente está el trabajo: no en suprimir las emociones, pero tampoco en ser completamente gobernados por ellas. El objetivo no es eliminar los sentimientos, ni colocarlos en el centro de cada decisión, sino aprender a reconocerlos, comprenderlos y responder de manera reflexiva en su presencia.

Ese trabajo emocional no es rápido ni automático. Requiere conciencia, humildad, práctica y la disposición de continuar creciendo con el tiempo. La diferencia en los resultados no proviene de una habilidad natural o talento. Proviene del esfuerzo intencional que ponemos en este trabajo. Es a través de pequeños pasos activos y continuos que avanzamos y seguimos progresando hacia mejores versiones de nosotros mismos mientras aprendemos a manejar nuestras emociones.

Como padres, quizá esto sea una de las cosas más importantes que modelamos para nuestros hijos. No la perfección. No la calma constante. Sino la capacidad de pausar, reflexionar, reparar y seguir trabajando en nosotros mismos.

Porque la madurez emocional no se construye en un solo momento de insight. Se construye lentamente, a través de la práctica repetida e intencional de aprender a lidiar con nuestros sentimientos.

Si te gusta leer, aprender y compartir con otros padres y te gustaría unirte a mi book club, envíame un mensaje!

Today, April 29, is National Fentanyl Awareness Day. I am resharing this post because the reality we are parenting in continues to demand our attention. This is not a one-time conversation—it’s an ongoing responsibility. If you haven’t had this conversation with your kids yet, today is a good place to start.

-Ana

Today is National Fentanyl Awareness Day. A day observed annually on April 29, to educate the public about the risks associated with fentanyl. This day was established in 2022 by parents who tragically lost loved ones to fentanyl overdoses. Their mission was to raise public consciousness about the dangers of illegally manufactured fentanyl and to prevent further loss of life.

​

The introduction of illicit fentanyl has dramatically transformed the drug landscape, making death from experimenting or trying something new a high probability on their first try. This is very scary for parents to think about but unfortunately, it is the dangerous reality we are parenting in.

What are parents to do?

Educate ourselves and have conversations with our kids.

We need to be informed about the world our kids are growing up in so that we can empower them to make informed decisions as they navigate this complex environment. The appearance of fentanyl in the drug landscape demands a shift in how we think about the dangers around drug abuse and experimentation. It used to be that when our parents talked to us about drugs, the risk was mostly focused on addiction. While this risk is still true today, the possibility of dying from a fentanyl overdose changes the urgency of addressing this topic with our kids. We need to be having these conversations with our kids early and we need to be having them often.

The Need for a New Conversation

Talking about drugs and addiction is no longer enough. The new conversations need to address all the dangers of this alarming trend such as:

Facts about fentanyl

• Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid that is 50 times stronger than heroin and 100 times stronger than morphine. It was originally developed for medical use (to treat severe pain, especially after surgery or in cancer patients) but now illegally manufactured fentanyl is driving a national overdose crisis.1

• It is invisible, odorless, and tasteless, making it extremely difficult to detect when mixed with other substances.

• Fentanyl is now the leading cause of death for Americans aged 18 to 45.2

• A lethal dose of fentanyl can be as small as 2 milligrams—about the size of a few grains of salt.

• Fake pills—like counterfeit versions of Xanax, Oxycodone, and Adderall—are the most common way teens and young adults accidentally ingest fentanyl.

• There are now rainbow fentanyl" pills—colored pills made to look like candy—which authorities warn could appeal to young people.3

Where are kids getting these pills

• Social Media and Messaging Apps: Platforms like Snapchat, Instagram, TikTok, and encrypted messaging apps (like WhatsApp, Signal, or Telegram) are heavily used for drug sales. Dealers advertise pills with emojis and slang, making it look casual and low-risk. It's alarmingly easy for teens to connect with sellers directly and discreetly.

• Counterfeit Pills Sold as Prescriptions: Many young people think they are buying real prescription medications like Xanax, Percocet, Adderall, or Oxycodone. However, these pills are often counterfeits—pressed in illegal labs—and may contain dangerous (and often lethal) amounts of fentanyl.

• Friends and Local Networks: Sometimes pills are shared or sold among peers, making access seem safer or more trustworthy. Kids might assume a pill is safe because it came from someone they know.

How to handle peer pressure

Some things you can suggest to your teens:

• Trust Your Instincts: If something feels wrong, it's okay to say no. Trusting your gut can help you make decisions that align with your values.​

• Plan Ahead: Think about how you'll respond in situations where you might face pressure. Having a plan can make it easier to stick to your decisions.​ Take it one step further and do some role-playing of possible scenarios and how to get out of them.

• Use the Buddy System: Having a friend who shares your values can provide support in resisting negative peer pressure.​

• Practice Assertiveness: Learn to say no confidently and firmly. Assertiveness can help you stand up for yourself without being aggressive.​

• Seek Support from Trusted Adults: If you're struggling with peer pressure, talk to me, a teacher, or a counselor. We are here to offer guidance and support.​

• Avoid Risky Situations: Stay away from places or people where you're likely to face negative pressure. Choosing your environment can help you avoid uncomfortable situations.​

You don’t have to include absolutely everything suggested in this post, but you do have to know about it so that you can decide what and how to address this topic with your children. The main goal is that you start encouraging honest discussions about this topic and to let your teen know they can talk to you without judgement. As a parent, it is our responsibility to open that channel of communication and to take the lead in addressing difficult conversations.

There are many resources for parents to get more information about this topic and to get further advice on how to have the conversations around fentanyl with our kids. Tomorrow, the organization Song for Charly is hosting a free virtual screening and panel discussion of The New Drug Talk for parents and community members. I encourage all parents to attend and to get educated about this important topic.

By utilizing these resources and fostering transparent communication, we can better equip our children to navigate the challenges posed by the current drug landscape and make informed decisions to protect their health and well-being.

I would love to know, what conversations have you had with your children around drugs and fentanyl?

Leave a comment

Need more resources? Send me a message and I will send them your way.

Sexuality is rarely a neutral topic. It often comes with many emotions attached to it, and one of the most common associated with talking about it is discomfort. As parents, we tend to think these conversations are uncomfortable for our children—that there are things we should say and things we shouldn’t, things they should know and things they shouldn’t. Just thinking about the topic can make parents feel anxious and confused.

But sexuality should not be a taboo topic within a family. And shifting that begins with our mindset. Understanding what sexuality really is—and everything it includes—can help create that shift.

I like to begin these talks by asking parents:

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word sexuality?

Most answers tend to center around words like sex, pornography, sexual diversity, and genitals—the very things parents often feel most uncomfortable discussing.

But sexuality is much more than having sex or identifying as straight or gay. It has to do with who we are and how we interact with the world. It is a core part of being human, and we are born as sexual beings.

Sexuality includes our bodies, our gender, our relationships, our emotions, and our behaviors. When we broaden our understanding of what sexuality encompasses, many parents realize something important: they have already been talking to their children about sexuality all along.

• Every time we talk to our children about their bodies—whether from a hygiene perspective or teaching them to protect their private parts—we are talking about sexuality.

• Every time we discuss friendships or crushes, we are talking about sexuality.

• Every time we talk about who they are, what they like or don’t like about themselves, we are touching on a component of sexuality.

Parents often feel a sense of relief when they recognize this. These conversations are already part of family life.

And this is where the mindset shift becomes essential. When we begin to see sexuality as something that is already present in everyday interactions, the focus moves away from having the “perfect” explanation for topics like intercourse, and toward the kind of relationship we are building with our children. Our attitude and openness start to matter more than the exact language we use.

And from that place, another important piece naturally comes into focus: the role of family values.

Because once we move beyond the pressure of saying the “right thing,” the question becomes not just what do I say, but from where am I speaking? Our values begin to guide the conversation—shaping not only the content, but the tone, the boundaries, and the meaning behind what we share.

This is why I always invite parents to take a moment—a real moment—to clarify and define their values around sexuality. To reflect on how they want their children to understand and live their sexuality. To reflect on their own sexual education and experience. Because talking about sexuality is not just about providing information. It is also about transmitting the values and beliefs of the family.

I like to think of it as a simple formula:

Information + Values + Casual Conversation = Connection

Whenever I approach these topics, I first reflect on the value I want to communicate. This helps ground my emotions and brings clarity to the language I choose.

Most of the time, these conversations are driven by anxiety or fear—we don’t want teen pregnancies or STDs, we worry that talking about sexuality might give permission, introduce ideas too early, or create confusion. These fears are valid. But conversations rooted in fear rarely lead to connection.

When our children sense our discomfort, they are less likely to come to us with questions or when they need support.

Speaking from values instead of fear changes the quality of the conversation. When fear is leading, we tend to react—we shut things down, avoid the topic, or rush to control the outcome. But when we are grounded in our values, we can slow down and respond with intention. We are no longer trying to prevent every possible risk; we are guiding our children toward understanding, respect, and responsibility. This shift allows the conversation to feel less like a warning and more like an ongoing dialogue—one that supports connection and builds trust over time.

When we begin to see these conversations as part of everyday family life, we move away from the idea of “the talk”—that one moment where we explain everything—and move toward building a relationship where these topics can come up naturally.

We can use everyday moments—watching a show or a movie together and talking about what we saw instead of sitting in silence. We can talk about friendships, crushes, and the emotions that come with them. We can use the correct names for body parts—penis, testicles, vulva, vagina.

All of these small moments communicate something powerful:

That we are open.
That we are comfortable.
That this is a conversation they can have with us.

In the end, talking to our children about sexuality is not about having all the answers or getting it exactly right. It is about building a relationship where these conversations can happen over time, with honesty and trust. It is about showing up with openness, guided by our values, and creating a space where our children feel safe to ask, to wonder, and to come back to us. Because more than any single conversation, what truly shapes them is knowing that we are a steady and available place to turn to as they grow.

How do you talk about sexuality in your family?

Leave a comment

La sexualidad rara vez es un tema neutral. Suele venir acompañada de muchas emociones, y una de las más comunes asociadas a hablar de ello es la incomodidad. Como padres, tendemos a pensar que estas conversaciones son incómodas para nuestros hijos—que hay cosas que debemos decir y cosas que no, cosas que deberían saber y cosas que no. Tan solo pensar en el tema puede generar ansiedad y confusión en los padres.

Pero la sexualidad no debería ser un tema tabú dentro de la familia. Y cambiar esto comienza con un cambio de mentalidad. Entender qué es realmente la sexualidad—y todo lo que abarca—puede ayudarnos a lograr ese cambio.

Me gusta comenzar estas pláticas preguntando a los padres:

¿Qué es lo primero que te viene a la mente cuando escuchas la palabra sexualidad?

La mayoría de las respuestas suelen centrarse en palabras como sexo, pornografía, diversidad sexual y genitales—justamente los temas que más incomodidad generan al hablarlos.

Pero la sexualidad es mucho más que tener relaciones sexuales o identificarse como heterosexual u homosexual. Tiene que ver con quiénes somos y cómo interactuamos con el mundo. Es una parte esencial del ser humano, y nacemos siendo seres sexuales.

La sexualidad incluye nuestro cuerpo, nuestro género, nuestras relaciones, nuestras emociones y nuestros comportamientos. Cuando ampliamos nuestra comprensión de lo que abarca la sexualidad, muchos padres se dan cuenta de algo importante: han estado hablando de sexualidad con sus hijos todo este tiempo.

• Cada vez que hablamos con nuestros hijos sobre su cuerpo—ya sea desde la higiene o enseñándoles a cuidar sus partes privadas—estamos hablando de sexualidad.

• Cada vez que hablamos de amistades o de alguien que les gusta, estamos hablando de sexualidad.

• Cada vez que hablamos de quiénes son, de lo que les gusta o no les gusta de sí mismos, estamos tocando un componente de la sexualidad.

Muchos padres sienten un gran alivio al reconocer esto. Estas conversaciones ya forman parte de la vida familiar.

Y es aquí donde el cambio de mentalidad se vuelve esencial. Cuando comenzamos a ver la sexualidad como algo que ya está presente en las interacciones cotidianas, el enfoque deja de estar en tener la explicación “perfecta” sobre temas como el acto sexual, y se desplaza hacia el tipo de relación que estamos construyendo con nuestros hijos. Nuestra actitud y apertura empiezan a importar más que el lenguaje exacto que usamos.

Y desde ahí, otro elemento importante entra en juego de manera natural: el papel de los valores familiares.

Porque cuando dejamos atrás la presión de decir “lo correcto”, la pregunta ya no es solo qué digo, sino desde dónde estoy hablando. Nuestros valores empiezan a guiar la conversación—no solo el contenido, sino también el tono, los límites y el significado detrás de lo que compartimos.

Por eso siempre invito a los padres a hacer una pausa—una pausa real—para aclarar y definir sus valores alrededor de la sexualidad. A reflexionar sobre cómo quieren que sus hijos entiendan y vivan su sexualidad. A mirar también su propia educación y experiencia en este tema. Porque hablar de sexualidad no se trata solo de dar información. También se trata de transmitir los valores y creencias de la familia.

Me gusta pensarlo como una fórmula sencilla:

Información + Valores + Conversación cotidiana = Conexión

Cada vez que abordo estos temas, primero reflexiono sobre el valor que quiero transmitir. Esto me ayuda a regular mis emociones y a tener mayor claridad sobre el lenguaje que voy a usar.

Muchas veces, estas conversaciones están impulsadas por la ansiedad o el miedo—no queremos embarazos en la adolescencia o enfermedades de transmisión sexual, nos preocupa que hablar de sexualidad dé permiso, introduzca ideas demasiado pronto o genere confusión. Estos miedos son válidos. Pero las conversaciones basadas en el miedo rara vez generan conexión.

Cuando nuestros hijos perciben nuestra incomodidad, es menos probable que acudan a nosotros con preguntas o cuando necesiten apoyo.

Hablar desde los valores en lugar del miedo cambia la calidad de la conversación. Cuando el miedo guía, tendemos a reaccionar—cerramos el tema, lo evitamos o intentamos controlar el resultado. Pero cuando estamos anclados en nuestros valores, podemos pausar y responder con intención. Ya no estamos tratando de prevenir todos los riesgos posibles; estamos guiando a nuestros hijos hacia el entendimiento, el respeto y la responsabilidad. Este cambio hace que la conversación se sienta menos como una advertencia y más como un diálogo continuo—uno que fortalece la conexión y construye confianza con el tiempo.

Cuando comenzamos a ver estas conversaciones como parte de la vida diaria familiar, nos alejamos de la idea de “la plática”—ese momento único en el que explicamos todo—y nos acercamos a construir una relación en la que estos temas surgen de manera natural.

Podemos aprovechar momentos cotidianos—ver una serie o una película juntos y hablar de lo que vimos en lugar de quedarnos en silencio. Podemos hablar de amistades, de quién les gusta, de las emociones que surgen en esas relaciones. Podemos usar los nombres correctos de las partes del cuerpo—pene, testículos, vulva, vagina.

Todos estos pequeños momentos comunican algo muy poderoso:

Que estamos abiertos.
Que estamos cómodos.
Que esta es una conversación que pueden tener con nosotros.

Al final, hablar con nuestros hijos sobre sexualidad no se trata de tener todas las respuestas ni de hacerlo perfecto. Se trata de construir una relación en la que estas conversaciones puedan darse con el tiempo, con honestidad y confianza. Se trata de mostrarnos disponibles, guiados por nuestros valores, y de crear un espacio donde nuestros hijos se sientan seguros para preguntar, para explorar y para volver a nosotros. Porque más que cualquier conversación puntual, lo que realmente los forma es saber que somos un lugar firme y disponible al que pueden acudir mientras crecen.

En tu familia, ¿cómo abordan el tema de la sexualidad?

Leave a comment

The activity invited them to reflect on an interaction with one of their children that had not gone the way they wanted, and guided them in thinking about the event through the lens of these concepts:

• What was the alarm in this situation?

• What principle did you want to lead with in that moment?

• What boundary was needed?

• Was there a moment of disconnection?

These questions aimed to help them bring their learning into their family context.

As we reflected on our time together and what they were taking with them, one mother shared that her biggest takeaway was hearing other mothers speak about their struggles. From the outside, it can seem like other mothers have it all together—always on time, their kids following instructions, doing well, achieving. But as each mother shared, every single one in that room was struggling with some aspect of parenting.

Maybe it was anxiety in one of their children. Maybe it was getting their partner on the same page about limits around junk food or technology. Maybe it was navigating the distance that can come with adolescence. Every single mother was carrying something—and many felt like they were the only ones. Intellectually, they knew others had similar concerns, but it wasn’t until these experiences were openly shared that they were able to emotionally connect with one another.

The main objective of this parenting club is to help mothers recognize that parenting is complex because it asks us to face the gaps in our own maturity—and the need to keep growing in our emotional development. The work is not about fixing or changing our children or our partners, but about managing ourselves and our reactivity as our children move through different developmental stages.

talks about how each stage of development offers opportunities for parents to observe their patterns of interaction and their contribution to family dynamics. It is through working on our part—the only part we truly can control—that the system begins to shift.

One of the benefits of doing this work in a group setting is that it reduces the sense of isolation. Knowing that others are going through similar challenges makes it feel less personal—less like the problem is you. It also opens the door to learning from one another. Other mothers become resources instead of competition. That, in itself, is a meaningful shift.

Another important takeaway was learning new concepts, such as understanding the role of anxiety and clarifying the difference between limits, boundaries, and consequences. The most loved concept was repair. This is also one of my favorite topics in parenting because it is both powerful and accessible.

At its core, repair removes shame from the interaction by acknowledging that we are still growing, even as adults. It models something essential for our children: we are not perfect, we make mistakes, and we are willing to take responsibility and try again.

Isn’t that what we would hope for our children—and for all of us?

A parenting Compass

To conclude the session, participants were invited to develop their own parenting compass using the following prompts:

When things feel hard, I want to remember:

• I will pause and notice the alarm by…

• I will consider what is developmentally realistic by…

• I will lead with my principle of:

• I will hold the boundary by…

• I will repair by…

My hope is that they—and all of us walking this path of parenting—begin to see that this is a journey that asks something of us. It asks us to grow, to reflect, and to keep learning about ourselves just as much as about our children.

And while that can feel demanding at times, it is also a privilege. A privilege to witness our children become who they are, and to be invited to grow alongside them.

Leave a comment

La actividad las invitó a reflexionar sobre una interacción con uno de sus hijos que no había salido como esperaban, y las guió a analizar esa experiencia a través de estos conceptos:

• ¿Cuál fue la alarma en esta situación?

• ¿Desde qué principio querías liderar en ese momento?

• ¿Qué límite era necesario?

• ¿Hubo un momento de desconexión?

Estas preguntas buscaban ayudarles a llevar su aprendizaje a su contexto familiar.

Al reflexionar sobre nuestro tiempo juntas y lo que se llevaban de la experiencia, una mamá compartió que su mayor aprendizaje fue escuchar a otras madres hablar de sus propias dificultades. Desde afuera, puede parecer que otras mamás lo tienen todo bajo control: siempre a tiempo, sus hijos siguen instrucciones, hacen las cosas bien, logran objetivos. Pero, conforme cada una fue compartiendo, quedó claro que todas en ese espacio estaban enfrentando algún reto en la crianza.

Tal vez era la ansiedad en alguno de sus hijos. Tal vez era lograr que su pareja estuviera en la misma página respecto a límites con la comida o la tecnología. Tal vez era navegar la distancia que puede surgir en la adolescencia. Cada mamá estaba cargando con algo—y muchas sentían que eran las únicas. A nivel intelectual sabían que otras pasaban por situaciones similares, pero no fue hasta que estas experiencias se compartieron abiertamente que pudieron conectar emocionalmente entre ellas.

El objetivo principal de este parenting club es ayudar a las madres a reconocer que la crianza es compleja porque nos pide enfrentar las brechas en nuestra propia madurez—y la necesidad de seguir creciendo en nuestro desarrollo emocional. El trabajo no está en cambiar o arreglar a nuestros hijos o a nuestra pareja, sino en manejarnos a nosotros mismos y nuestra reactividad mientras nuestros hijos atraviesan las diferentes etapas del desarrollo.

La Dra. Jenny Brown habla de cómo cada etapa del desarrollo ofrece oportunidades para que los padres observen sus patrones de interacción y su contribución a la dinámica familiar. Es trabajando en nuestra parte—la única que realmente podemos controlar—que el sistema comienza a cambiar.

Uno de los beneficios de hacer este trabajo en grupo es que reduce la sensación de aislamiento. Saber que otros están pasando por desafíos similares hace que se sienta menos personal—menos como si el problema fueras tú. También abre la puerta a aprender unos de otros. Otras madres se convierten en recursos en lugar de competencia. Eso, en sí mismo, ya es un cambio significativo.

Otro aprendizaje importante fue incorporar nuevos conceptos, como entender el papel de la ansiedad y clarificar la diferencia entre límites y consecuencias. El concepto favorito fue el de la reparación. Este también es uno de mis temas favoritos en crianza porque es tanto poderoso como accesible.

En esencia, la reparación quita la carga de la vergüenza de la interacción al reconocer que seguimos creciendo, incluso como adultos. Modela algo fundamental para nuestros hijos: no somos perfectos, cometemos errores y estamos dispuestos a asumir responsabilidad e intentarlo de nuevo.

¿No es eso lo que deseamos para nuestros hijos—y para todos nosotros?

Una brújula de crianza

Para cerrar la sesión, invité a las participantes a desarrollar su propia brújula de crianza con los siguientes enunciados:

Cuando las cosas se ponen difíciles, quiero recordar:

• Haré una pausa y notaré la alarma al…

• Consideraré qué es realista a nivel del desarrollo al…

• Lideraré desde mi principio de:

• Sostendré el límite al…

• Repararé al…

Mi deseo es que ellas—y todos los que caminamos este proceso de la crianza—podamos empezar a ver que este es un camino que nos pide algo. Nos pide crecer, reflexionar y seguir aprendiendo sobre nosotros mismos tanto como sobre nuestros hijos.

Y aunque a veces puede sentirse difícil, también es un privilegio. Un privilegio poder ver a nuestros hijos convertirse en quienes son, y ser invitados a crecer junto a ellos.

Leave a comment

“No one can do it. But then you expand. You think you can’t do it, and you do it anyway. That’s being a mother.”

The quote was directed at a new mother who was struggling to connect with her newborn and questioning her capacity for parenting. It was offered by a friend—a mother herself—who had already gone through that same experience of feeling scared and confused.

Last Sunday, my oldest son turned 14. Every time he has a birthday, I think about my own birthday as a mother. Fourteen years of being a mom. Time is so relative. To a new mother, fourteen years might feel like a lifetime. To someone older, it might feel like just the first quarter of the journey. I can’t quite say whether it feels long or short. It definitey feels like that saying: long days, short years. In four years, he will be leaving for college. It feels like so little time—and yet, like so much.

As I watched him this past Sunday, I reflected on my parenting journey. I believe firstborns often get both the best and the hardest parts of us as parents. They get us all to themselves—no sharing with siblings—but they also receive our full, unfiltered new-parent anxiety. The anxiety of not knowing what to do, combined with the responsibility of keeping a baby safe, and the physical demands of recovering from delivery. However, in many ways, it is through that experience—the intensity, the anxiety, the learning in real time—that expansion begins.

The concept of expansion

Nothing pushes us toward expansion more than parenthood. It’s like a Big Bang in our internal world—a rapid acceleration that pushes us beyond what we thought we were capable of.

I witness expansion every day in my office with the couples and parents I work with. The mere intention of working on themselves through therapy or coaching is already a sign of their willingness to grow. Maybe it starts from pain, constant worry or a desire to do something different, but the decision to engage in that process is, in itself, a decision to expand.

Expansion is related to growth—but it’s not the same. Growth can happen organically, even when we are not paying attention. Life teaches us lessons, and we learn. But expansion requires something more. It requires intention. It requires that we push ourselves through challenges rather than go around them. There is always growth in parenting. Our children are constantly teaching us, whether we are aware of it or not. But expansion depends on our willingness to engage with those lessons in a way that challenges our usual ways of thinking and responding.

So what does expansion require?

It requires stepping outside of your comfort zone. Doing things that don’t feel natural. Making intentional changes to the way you respond, even when your first instinct pulls you in a different direction. It means pausing where you would normally react, staying where you would normally withdraw, and choosing differently when your default feels easier.

It asks you to test your limits—not to prove something, but to discover what you are actually capable of. To sit with discomfort a little longer. To tolerate uncertainty without rushing to resolve it. To try a new way, even when you are not sure it will work.

It requires a willingness to interrupt your patterns and stay engaged in the process, especially when it feels unfamiliar. Because expansion doesn’t come from doing what already feels comfortable—it comes from stretching into what feels just beyond your reach. It’s like working out. You decide to do it. You commit to your health. And you push through discomfort.

Expansion can feel hard in the moment.

You are trying new ways, exploring unfamiliar territory, lifting heavier emotional weight. But there is an incomparable feeling on the other side.

Every time you pause before reacting,
every time you resist the urge to immediately fix something for your child,
every time you try a different approach in a moment of conflict,
every time you show up to therapy or coaching—

you are expanding.

The results don’t show up right away. Your child doesn’t immediately adapt. Your partner might feel confused by your new response. You might not feel confident or capable after your first attempts. But slowly, with consistency, something shifts. Expansion becomes less effortful. And your confidence expands the most.

I believe we are meant to grow and expand. Every stage of life offers us that opportunity—if we are willing to engage with it. I don’t think I have ever experienced more expansion than when I first became a mother fourteen years ago. I was living in Washington, DC, and due to a combination of circumstances, I found myself alone with my newborn just two weeks after he was born. My family was far away, and my husband’s job required constant travel.

I cried—a lot.

I had never felt so scared, confused, or alone. Every day felt overwhelming. And I can honestly say—it was not a time I enjoyed. It didn’t look like the image we are often fed. The glowing mother. The peaceful baby. The quiet joy. It looked like exhaustion, fear, tears, and constant alertness.

But when I look back now, I can see where expansion was happening.

Every time I had to figure something out, I was expanding my ability to problem-solve.
Every time I reached out for help, I was expanding my ability to rely on others.
Every time I functioned through exhaustion, I was expanding my physical and emotional capacity.
Every time I managed my worry, I was expanding my tolerance for uncertainty.
Every time I soothed my baby, I was expanding my capacity for attunement.

Maybe my circumstances forced a kind of “Big Bang” expansion. Maybe I was unlucky. Or maybe—as I choose to see it—I was very lucky. Because right from the beginning, I learned that I could do it. My firstborn expanded me in ways I didn’t know were possible. Enough that I went on to have two more boys.

Now, I am parenting teenagers. The challenges are different, and the impact of my parenting feels more far-reaching. And I find myself, once again, in a place of expansion. Every time I choose not to react to a rolling eye, every time I work through difficult decisions about screen time or sleepovers, every time I stay informed so I can understand the risks and realities they are navigating, every time I sit with the worry when they are out on their own—I am expanding. Not because it feels easy or natural, but because it requires me to show up differently, with intention and awareness, in a stage that asks something new of me.

The key, I believe, is to see expansion as something to lean into—not something to resist. Parenting will invite you to expand. But only if you allow it.

Nothing will challenge you more than becoming a parent.
But within that challenge is the opportunity to grow, to expand,
and to discover that you had more capacity than you ever imagined.

Not because you felt capable from the beginning—
but because, again and again, you thought you couldn’t do it…
and you did it anyway.
And in that process, you expanded.

I would love to know, how have you expanded in your parenting journey?

Leave a comment

“Nadie puede hacerlo. Pero entonces te expandes. Crees que no puedes hacerlo, y aun así lo haces. Eso es ser madre.”

La frase estaba dirigida a una madre primeriza que estaba teniendo dificultades para conectar con su recién nacido y cuestionaba su capacidad de ser mamá. Se la dijo una amiga—también madre—que ya había pasado por esa misma experiencia de sentirse asustada y confundida.

El domingo pasado, mi hijo mayor cumplió 14 años. Cada vez que cumple años, pienso en mi propio “cumpleaños” como mamá. Catorce años de ser madre. El tiempo es tan relativo. Para una mamá primeriza, catorce años pueden sentirse como toda una vida. Para alguien con nietos, puede parecer apenas el primer cuarto del camino. No sé decir si se siente largo o corto. Definitivamente se siente como ese dicho: días largos, años cortos. En cuatro años se irá a la universidad. Se siente como muy poco tiempo—y a la vez, como tanto.

Mientras lo observaba este domingo, reflexioné sobre mi camino como madre. Creo que los primogénitos suelen recibir tanto lo mejor como lo más difícil de nosotros como padres. Nos tienen solo para ellos—sin compartir con hermanos—pero también reciben toda nuestra ansiedad de padres primerizos, sin filtrar. La ansiedad de no saber qué hacer, combinada con la responsabilidad de mantener a un bebé a salvo, y las demandas físicas de recuperarse del parto. Sin embargo, en muchos sentidos, es a través de esa experiencia—la intensidad, la ansiedad, el aprendizaje en tiempo real—que comienza la expansión.

El concepto de expansión

Nada nos empuja hacia la expansión tanto como la maternidad o paternidad. Es como un Big Bang en nuestro mundo interno—una aceleración rápida que nos lleva más allá de lo que creíamos posible.

Veo expansión todos los días en mi consulta, con las parejas y padres con los que trabajo. La simple intención de trabajar en sí mismos a través de terapia o coaching ya es una señal de su disposición a crecer. Tal vez comienza desde el dolor, la preocupación constante o el deseo de hacer algo diferente, pero la decisión de involucrarse en ese proceso es, en sí misma, una decisión de expandirse.

La expansión está relacionada con el crecimiento—pero no es lo mismo.

El crecimiento puede ocurrir de forma orgánica, incluso cuando no estamos prestando atención. La vida nos enseña lecciones, y aprendemos. Pero la expansión requiere algo más. Requiere intención. Requiere que nos enfrentemos a los desafíos en lugar de rodearlos. Siempre hay crecimiento en la crianza. Nuestros hijos constantemente nos están enseñando, seamos conscientes de ello o no. Pero la expansión depende de nuestra disposición a involucrarnos con esas lecciones de una manera que desafíe nuestras formas habituales de pensar y responder.

Entonces, ¿qué requiere la expansión?

Requiere salir de tu zona de confort. Hacer cosas que no se sienten naturales. Hacer cambios intencionales en la forma en que respondes, incluso cuando tu primer impulso te lleva en otra dirección. Significa pausar donde normalmente reaccionarías, quedarte donde normalmente te retirarías, y elegir diferente cuando lo automático parece más fácil.

Te pide poner a prueba tus límites—no para demostrar algo, sino para descubrir de lo que realmente eres capaz. Permanecer un poco más en la incomodidad. Tolerar la incertidumbre sin apresurarte a resolverla. Intentar una forma nueva, incluso cuando no estás seguro de que funcione.

Requiere la disposición de interrumpir tus patrones y mantenerte en el proceso, especialmente cuando se siente desconocido. Porque la expansión no viene de hacer lo que ya se siente cómodo—viene de estirarte hacia lo que está justo más allá de tu alcance. Es como hacer ejercicio. Decides hacerlo. Te comprometes con tu bienestar. Y atraviesas la incomodidad.

La expansión puede sentirse difícil en el momento.

Estás intentando nuevas formas, explorando territorios desconocidos, levantando un peso emocional mayor. Pero hay una sensación incomparable del otro lado.

Cada vez que haces una pausa antes de reaccionar,
cada vez que resistes el impulso de resolverle inmediatamente algo a tu hijo,
cada vez que intentas un enfoque diferente en un momento de conflicto,
cada vez que te presentas a terapia o coaching—

estás expandiéndote.

Los resultados no aparecen de inmediato. Tu hijo no se adapta automáticamente. Tu pareja puede sentirse confundida por tu nueva forma de responder. Puede que tú mismo no te sientas capaz o seguro en los primeros intentos. Pero poco a poco, con consistencia, algo cambia. La expansión se vuelve menos demandante. Y tu confianza es lo que más se expande.

Creo que estamos hechos para crecer y expandirnos. Cada etapa de la vida nos ofrece esa oportunidad—si estamos dispuestos a involucrarnos. No creo haber experimentado una expansión mayor que cuando me convertí en madre hace catorce años. Vivía en Washington, DC, y por una combinación de circunstancias, me encontré sola con mi recién nacido apenas dos semanas después de su nacimiento. Mi familia estaba lejos, y el trabajo de mi esposo implicaba viajar constantemente.

Lloré—mucho.

Nunca me había sentido tan asustada, confundida o sola. Cada día se sentía abrumador. Y puedo decir con honestidad: no fue una etapa que disfruté. No se parecía a la imagen que muchas veces vemos. La madre radiante. El bebé tranquilo. La felicidad serena. Se veía como cansancio, miedo, lágrimas y un estado constante de alerta.

Pero al mirar hacia atrás, puedo ver dónde estaba ocurriendo la expansión.

Cada vez que tenía que resolver algo, estaba expandiendo mi capacidad de encontrar soluciones.
Cada vez que pedía ayuda, estaba expandiendo mi capacidad de apoyarme en otros.
Cada vez que funcionaba en medio del cansancio, estaba expandiendo mi capacidad física y emocional.
Cada vez que manejaba mi preocupación, estaba expandiendo mi tolerancia a la incertidumbre.
Cada vez que consolaba a mi bebé, estaba expandiendo mi capacidad de sintonía.

Tal vez mis circunstancias forzaron una especie de expansión tipo “Big Bang”. Tal vez tuve mala suerte. O tal vez—así es como elijo verlo—tuve mucha suerte. Porque desde el inicio aprendí que podía hacerlo. Mi primer hijo me expandió de formas que no sabía que eran posibles. Tanto, que después tuve otros dos hijos.

Ahora estoy criando adolescentes. Los desafíos son distintos, y el impacto de mi forma de criar se siente más trascendental. Y me encuentro, una vez más, en un lugar de expansión. Cada vez que elijo no reaccionar a una mirada retadora, cada vez que tomo decisiones difíciles sobre el uso de pantallas o las pijamadas, cada vez que me mantengo informada para entender los riesgos y realidades que están viviendo, cada vez que sostengo la preocupación cuando salen solos—me estoy expandiendo. No porque sea fácil o natural, sino porque me pide presentarme de una manera distinta, con intención y conciencia, en una etapa que exige algo nuevo de mí.

La clave, creo, es ver la expansión como algo hacia lo que nos inclinamos—no algo a lo que resistimos. La crianza te va a invitar a expandirte. Pero solo si lo permites.

Nada te va a desafiar más que ser padre o madre.
Pero dentro de ese desafío está la oportunidad de crecer, de expandirte,
y de descubrir que tienes más capacidad de la que imaginabas.

No porque te sentías capaz desde el inicio—
sino porque, una y otra vez, pensaste que no podías…
y aun así lo hiciste.
Y en ese proceso, te expandiste.

Me encantaría saber, ¿cómo te has expandido en tu camino como madre o padre?

Leave a comment

So first, let’s define them.

1. Limits – refer to a point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass; a restriction on the size or amount of something that is permissible or possible.

2. Boundaries – something that indicates or fixes a limit or extent.

3. Consequences – a result or effect of an action or condition.

These dictionary definitions give us the basic context. Now let’s translate these ideas into parenting language.

1. Limits

Limits refer to the rules a particular environment has around certain behaviors. Limits should be defined by the parents in line with what they believe is important for the functioning of the family and for the healthy development of the child. Limits are usually placed around particular behaviors such as bedtime, junk food consumption, screen time, and safety.

Some examples of limits:

• Bedtime is at 8 pm.
  (There is an implied limit that playing, reading, eating, and other activities end after this time.)

• Screens are allowed only on weekends for two hours.

• You need to wear a helmet to ride your bike.

Limits provide structure to the family. Children benefit from knowing where the limits are. They might try to push those limits, but they also benefit from knowing that the adults in charge will maintain them. This allows children the freedom to explore and test while trusting that their parents will hold the structure.

2. Boundaries

Boundaries are where I see the biggest confusion. Boundaries refer to what you are willing to do to enforce a limit. Your behavior as a parent is what indicates where the limit actually is. Boundaries are not only expressed through words but through our actions.

“Stop hitting me.”
“Don’t bite your brother.”
“Turn off the iPad.”

These are NOT examples of boundaries. They are instructions. You are asking your child to do something, but you are not indicating where the limit actually is.

Some examples of boundaries:

• “I won’t allow you to hit me,” as you gently hold your child’s hands to stop the hitting.

• “In this house we don’t bite,” as you remove your child from the room to prevent the behavior.

• “Screen time is over,” as you walk over and take the device.

Boundaries are communicated through both our words and our actions. What we say matters, but what we do ultimately defines where the boundary truly is. Over time, children learn the real limits of the family environment by observing how parents respond to behavior.

3. Consequences

Consequences are what happens after a behavior. We tend to think of consequences as negative, but every behavior and every decision we make has consequences. There is always a result from the action. The consequence can be positive or negative, but there is always an outcome.

Examples of consequences:

• Losing screen time after not respecting a limit.

• Receiving a compliment after being kind to your brother.

• Getting wet after choosing not to take an umbrella when it is raining.

Consequences play an important role in family dynamics because they help children understand the connection between their actions and their outcomes. When consequences are consistent and related to the behavior, children begin to see that choices have results, which supports the development of responsibility and self-regulation.

All three — limits, boundaries, and consequences — are necessary for a family to function and for a child’s healthy development. Together they create the structure that holds family life in place. They form the framework through which expectations, responsibilities, and relationships are organized.

One of the challenges I observe today is that, with so much information available about children’s development, parents can become confused and start to doubt themselves when trying to implement limits, boundaries, and consequences. Many parents fear hurting their child’s emotional development, worry about the possibility of trauma, and focus entirely on preserving the child’s emotional experience.

The rise of ideas such as gentle parenting, along with an increased awareness of the importance of validating children’s emotions, has been an important cultural shift. At the same time, many parents grew up in households that were more authoritarian and where children’s emotional experiences were often dismissed. As a result, some parents today struggle to find the balance and lack confidence in providing the structure their children need. Parents may focus heavily on maintaining a positive relationship with their children, but sometimes forget that children also need leadership in the form of structure.

The challenge with not implementing structure is that, while it may feel good in the moment to always stay on the “good side” of our children, they miss opportunities to develop essential life skills such as respect, self-regulation, discipline, responsibility, and empathy. Over time, this can create difficulties in areas such as social relationships, following directions, and managing frustration.

Limits, boundaries, and consequences should always be aligned with a family’s values and principles. The limits parents set, the boundaries they enforce, and the consequences that follow behavior communicate what the family believes is important. When these elements are guided by clear values, they become more than rules—they become part of how children learn what the family stands for. Over time, children begin to understand not only what is expected of them, but also why those expectations exist. This helps them internalize those principles and gradually develop their own sense of responsibility, respect, and judgment as they grow.

Understanding the difference between limits, boundaries, and consequences helps parents move from reacting in the moment to leading the family with intention. Limits establish the structure of the environment, boundaries show children where those limits truly are, and consequences help them learn from the outcomes of their choices. When these three elements are aligned with a family’s values and applied consistently, they create a stable framework where children can grow, learn, and develop the skills they need to navigate the world.

I would love to know: what do you struggle with most in your parenting?

Leave a comment

Primero, definámoslas.

Límites – se refieren a un punto o nivel más allá del cual algo no puede o no debe extenderse o pasar; una restricción sobre la cantidad o el tipo de algo que es permitido o posible.

Consecuencias – un resultado o efecto de una acción o condición.

Estas definiciones del diccionario nos dan el contexto básico. Ahora traduzcamos estas ideas al lenguaje de la crianza.

1. Límites

Los límites se refieren a las reglas que existen en un determinado entorno alrededor de ciertos comportamientos. Los límites deben ser definidos por los padres en función de lo que consideran importante para el funcionamiento de la familia y para el desarrollo saludable del niño. Los límites generalmente se establecen alrededor de comportamientos específicos como la hora de dormir, el consumo de comida chatarra, el uso de pantallas o la seguridad.

Algunos ejemplos de límites:

• La hora de dormir es a las 8 pm.
  (Hay un límite implícito de que después de esa hora no se juega, no se lee, no se come ni se realizan otras actividades.)

• Las pantallas solo están permitidas los fines de semana por dos horas.

• Necesitas usar casco para andar en bicicleta.

Los límites proporcionan estructura a la familia. Los niños se benefician de saber dónde están los límites. Es posible que intenten ponerlos a prueba, pero también se benefician de saber que los adultos a cargo los mantendrán. Esto les permite tener la libertad de explorar y probar mientras confían en que sus padres sostendrán la estructura.

2. Límites personales (Boundaries)

Aquí es donde veo mayor confusión. Los límites personales se refieren a lo que estás dispuesto a hacer para hacer cumplir un límite. Tu comportamiento como padre es lo que indica dónde está realmente el límite. Estos límites no se expresan solo con palabras, sino también con nuestras acciones.

“Deja de pegarme.”
“No muerdas a tu hermano.”
“Apaga el iPad.”

Estos NO son ejemplos de límites personales. Son instrucciones. Estás pidiendo a tu hijo que haga algo, pero no estás indicando realmente dónde está el límite.

Algunos ejemplos de límites personales:

• “No voy a permitir que me pegues”, mientras sostienes suavemente las manos de tu hijo para detener el golpe.

• “En esta casa no mordemos”, mientras retiras a tu hijo del cuarto para prevenir la conducta.

• “Se acabó el tiempo de pantallas”, mientras te acercas y tomas el dispositivo.

Estos límites se comunican a través de nuestras palabras y nuestras acciones. Lo que decimos importa, pero lo que hacemos finalmente define dónde está el límite. Con el tiempo, los niños aprenden cuáles son los límites reales del entorno familiar observando cómo responden los padres ante los comportamientos.

3. Consecuencias

Las consecuencias son lo que sucede después de un comportamiento. Tendemos a pensar en las consecuencias como algo negativo, pero cada comportamiento y cada decisión que tomamos tiene consecuencias. Siempre hay un resultado de la acción. La consecuencia puede ser positiva o negativa, pero siempre hay un resultado.

Ejemplos de consecuencias:

• Perder tiempo de pantallas después de no respetar un límite.

• Recibir un cumplido después de ser amable con tu hermano.

• Mojarte después de decidir no llevar paraguas cuando está lloviendo.

Las consecuencias juegan un papel importante en la dinámica familiar porque ayudan a los niños a entender la conexión entre sus acciones y sus resultados. Cuando las consecuencias son consistentes y están relacionadas con el comportamiento, los niños empiezan a comprender que las decisiones tienen resultados, lo cual apoya el desarrollo de la responsabilidad y la autorregulación.

Estos componentes —límites y consecuencias— son necesarios para que una familia funcione y para el desarrollo saludable de un niño. Juntos crean la estructura que sostiene la vida familiar. Forman el marco a través del cual se organizan las expectativas, las responsabilidades y las relaciones.

Uno de los desafíos que observo hoy es que, con tanta información disponible sobre el desarrollo infantil, muchos padres se confunden y comienzan a dudar de sí mismos cuando intentan implementar límites y consecuencias. Muchos padres temen dañar el desarrollo emocional de sus hijos, se preocupan por la posibilidad de causar trauma y se enfocan únicamente en preservar la experiencia emocional del niño.

El surgimiento de ideas como la crianza respetuosa o gentle parenting, junto con una mayor conciencia sobre la importancia de validar las emociones de los niños, ha sido un cambio cultural importante. Al mismo tiempo, muchos padres crecieron en hogares más autoritarios, donde las experiencias emocionales de los niños eran ignoradas. Como resultado, algunos padres hoy tienen dificultades para encontrar el equilibrio y pierden confianza al proporcionar la estructura que sus hijos necesitan.

Los padres pueden enfocarse mucho en mantener una relación positiva con sus hijos, pero a veces olvidan que los niños también necesitan liderazgo en forma de estructura.

El problema de no implementar estructura es que, aunque en el momento pueda sentirse bien estar siempre del “lado bueno” de nuestros hijos, ellos pierden oportunidades de desarrollar habilidades esenciales para la vida como el respeto, la autorregulación, la disciplina, la responsabilidad y la empatía. Con el tiempo, esto puede generar dificultades en áreas como las relaciones sociales, seguir instrucciones o manejar la frustración.

Los límites, y consecuencias siempre deben estar alineados con los valores y principios de la familia. Los límites que los padres establecen, los límites personales que hacen cumplir y las consecuencias que siguen a los comportamientos comunican lo que la familia considera importante. Cuando estos elementos están guiados por valores claros, se convierten en algo más que reglas: se vuelven parte de cómo los niños aprenden qué representa su familia. Con el tiempo, los niños comienzan a entender no solo qué se espera de ellos, sino también por qué existen esas expectativas. Esto les ayuda a internalizar esos principios y desarrollar gradualmente su propio sentido de responsabilidad, respeto y criterio.

Comprender la diferencia entre límites, límites personales y consecuencias ayuda a los padres a pasar de reaccionar en el momento a liderar a la familia con intención. Los límites establecen la estructura del entorno, los límites personales muestran dónde están realmente esos límites, y las consecuencias ayudan a los niños a aprender de los resultados de sus decisiones. Cuando estos tres elementos están alineados con los valores de la familia y se aplican con consistencia, crean un marco estable donde los niños pueden crecer, aprender y desarrollar las habilidades que necesitan para desenvolverse en el mundo.

Me encantaría saber: ¿qué es lo que más te cuesta implementar en tu crianza?

Leave a comment

We have covered topics such as using anxiety as an alarm system rather than something to fear, self-awareness and self-regulation, developing parenting principles to guide decisions and expectations, and understanding the difference between boundaries and limits—and how important it is for parents to develop and hold both.

This time, our focus was on repair.

It is probably a more popular concept now, often associated with Dr. Becky, who describes it as the single most effective parenting strategy. I am not convinced there is one single most effective parenting strategy. In fact, I don’t believe in parenting strategies. Parenting is not about strategies; it is about intentional work on ourselves, where we use the relationship with our children to keep identifying the gaps in our maturity that we most need to work on. It is about balancing building a connection with allowing space for our kids to discovery their path.

More than thinking of repair as a strategy, I think of it as an opportunity for growth.

As parents, there will always be times when we lose it. Even if you have worked on yourself for a long time, have self-awareness, and practice self-regulation strategies on a regular basis, there will be times when you react to your child in a way that does not align with your values. That is simply a fact of life.

No parent is perfect, and many, many times you will find yourself reacting in a dysregulated way. Maybe your go-to is exploding and yelling. Maybe your automatic response is to blame or shame your children for misbehaving. Maybe you bang pots while you are cooking. Whatever your go-to is, you don’t like it. Even though it may feel good in the moment to let it all out, when you are done, you don’t feel good about it. You know you can do better—and most importantly, you want to do better—but sometimes life just gets in the way.

For those moments, there is repair.

What is repair?

Repair refers to a moment of reconnection after a moment of disconnection. It provides an opportunity for a dysregulated moment to have a different ending, and for parents and children to change the narrative of the story.

The moment gets a different ending. It no longer ends with the explosion and the child crying or retreating to their room. It ends with a moment of reflection and reconnection, a commitment to keep trying to do better, and an acknowledgment that we are human and we make mistakes. It is about the parent acknowledging that they are still a work in progress and that managing their emotions is an area in which we can always improve.

When your child sees you as a work in progress, they learn that they, too, can learn from their struggles and take responsibility when they act in a way they aren’t proud of. With repair, you are not only resetting yourself and reconnecting—you are modeling accountability for your child.

As we were talking about this concept, several moms shared some struggles they have experienced when trying to use repair. I want to share two of those examples because they help us understand the deeper intention of this concept.

One mom said:

“I have tried repairing after I yell at my teenager, but he says, ‘I don’t want to talk to you. What do I do then?’”

The point of repair is not necessarily for the parent and child to end in a hug. That may be a beautiful outcome we all hope for, but it is not always the reality. The child might not be ready to engage.

Repair is defined by the parent’s action — not by the child’s response.

Repair is not about the child—it is about the adult.

It is about the adult showing that it is important for them to take responsibility for their own dysregulation, to apologize for yelling or reacting in that way, and to model what it looks like to be a work in progress.

The child does not have to accept the apology or even engage in the conversation. They are only required to listen to the parent. Even if it may seem like nothing changed, the repair still happened as the child receives a powerful implicit message:

• I am not responsible for my parent’s emotions.

• Mistakes don’t destroy relationships.

• Adults take responsibility for themselves.

Another mom shared:

“I have tried repair after a particular behavior, but the next day the behavior happens again, so it doesn’t work.”

The point of repair is not behavior modification. Again, the point of repair is to reset and reconnect. It is about shifting the focus from trying to change or fix your child to how the parent wants to manage themselves while handling a particular behavior. Behavior change can be addressed through boundaries and limits and by making changes in the environment. Repair is for strengthening the relationship—a key component that supports long-term behavior change.

There is no right or wrong way to do repair. Any attempt to reconnect is better than not reaching out at all. However, there are a few basic guidelines to keep in mind:

• Allow time for everyone to calm down. Repair happens after regulation — not during dysregulation.

• Say you are sorry.

• Share your reflection with your child about what happened in that moment.

• Say what you wish you had done differently.

• Say what you plan to do differently now and in the future.

• Take ownership of your part in the interaction—not as a response to your child’s behavior, but as something you are still working on.

This last piece is very important.

It is not about saying, “I yelled because you didn’t listen.” That still places responsibility on the child for your reaction. Instead, it is about recognizing that this is something you are still working on. It is a gap in your own maturity, not a fault in your child. It is something you acknowledge and commit to continuing to work on.

Final thoughts

Repair is not about doing parenting “better.”
It is about doing parenting more intentionally.

It is the quiet, repeated choice to return to the relationship with humility, responsibility, and emotional presence. It is the decision to keep working on ourselves—even when it is uncomfortable—because we know that our growth is one of the most powerful resources our children have.

Repair reminds us that relationships do not become strong because we avoid mistakes. They become strong because we know how to come back, take ownership, and reconnect.

I would love to know, how do you plan to incorporate repair in your parenting?

Leave a comment