Fu Boo!

Halloween is right around the corner! I have fond memories of trick-or-treating when I was a kid. My brother and I used to go come home with PILLOWCASES full of candy back in a time when parents didn’t have to check for poison or needles. We ate a TON of it even before we got home!

We’d dump out all our candy on the family room floor, sort it into categories, and commence with candy commerce! I had an advantage, because my brother didn’t like coconut, so I would trade him for all the Mounds and Almond Joys. He would practically GIVE them to me because he thought they were gross.

Milky Ways were Park Place and Boardwalk. We both loved them and could bargain HARD with those bite sized baubles! Lollipops and sour balls were Baltic and Mediterranean Avenues. Nobody really wanted them, but if you could build a hotel out of a pile of them and MAYBE get one little Snickers in exchange.

Ahhhhh, the scent of a Halloween candy conglomeration! After several weeks, the candy flavors creeped together, too, so it was like eating ALL the goodness at the same time. Kind of like a donut burger or the pizza crepe taco pancake chili bag from Taco Town.

Every year, this picture of my boys with pumpkin heads pops up on my Facebook feed and makes me smile. I have been cutting my boys’ hair for about 19 years, since before Chris was even a year old. Chris ONLY JUST got his first non-Mom haircut when he moved to Philadelphia a couple of years ago. It’s lucky that all the Fu Men look super handsome with buzz cuts. Over about two decades, I estimate that we’ve saved about $10,000.

It all began when Alex was about a year old and would wiggle around and cry SO MUCH when I took him for haircuts. His hair always ended up crooked and jagged. The hairdresser would get frustrated and be kind of mean to us, so we’d both leave all stressed out. Alex would leave with swollen, red eyes and a little lollipop. I would leave with high blood pressure and a wallet that was $20 lighter.

There had to be a better way! Albert tried his hand at hairstyling and achieved questionable results. All Fus agree that he should not quit his day job.

Then we decided to try the buzzer and never looked back! We lived in Southern California at the time, so we could always do haircuts in the backyard. Albert would hold one of the boys under his arm like a football and give him a lollipop, and I’d go to town. Within a half hour, we had two cleanly shorn boys each sucking on an only-slightly hairy lollipop. 

When the boys were about 9 and 10 years old, they started asking me to carve designs in their hair for special occasions. “Cut a pumpkin face into our hair!”

I was worried that kids would make fun of them. But the boys convinced me that, if it didn’t work out, I could just buzz it all off the next day! I LOVE that they embrace silliness and feel confident enough to show up to school with crazy haircuts. Apparently they got a Great (Pumpkin) reception at school, because they asked me for hearts for Valentine’s Day and shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day.

Chris challenged my skillz at the end of the year for Crazy Hair Day. His class was studying electricity and magnetism, so Chris asked me to carve a lightning bolt into his hair. He got extra credit for coming to school with this hairstyle! 

The boys upped their challenges over the years. As iron sharpens iron, so a Fu sharpens a Fu! Next Crazy Hair Day, Chris requested a Lake Oswego logo.

This is what we came up with. We were both very proud! He asked me to “freshen it up” after a few days so he could show it off at his track meet where he was shot putting.

Once Alex realized the potential, he REALLY upped his game and challenged my skillz. I was pretty proud of this one for a regatta when the kids rowed for Lake Oswego Community Rowing. Strangers were delighted and asked to take pictures of his head all day long!

And when Alex was really pumped about his Rubik’s Cubes, he asked me for this one. I colored his head with magic markers every morning before school for about three days before we buzzed him clean. One morning after I colored his head, he lay on the carpet to play with the dogs before leaving and left a smear of blue on my carpet. TOTALLY worth it!

The very last haircut request I got was when Alex was 15. “Mom, I want you to carve a picture of a man’s face on the back of my head.” Huh. This took some creative collaboration as well as preliminary drawings. I feel very lucky that this sense of innocent and simple joy stayed with my son for so long. AND I think it turned out VERY COOL.

I hope you choose to do what makes you happy without worrying what others might think of you! Not only will this increase your joy, it also encourages others to stretch their own authenticity and vulnerability. Let's increase delight together!

Thanks for reading, friends!
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Where's My FU Senior Discount??

Welp, I got another senior discount last week. YEET!

If this were an isolated incident, I would say someone made a boo boo. But this is the SECOND TIME this has happened in the PAST TWO MONTHS.

The first time was in August at Michael’s. Albert and I were picking up a Sharpie to draw on his mom’s headstone. A game of tic-tac-toe? No, silly. My MFIL was super cranky in life, and would NOT be a ghost you'd want to prank. We weren’t desecrating her grave, I swear.

There was a typo on her grave marker. OOPSIE!

It’s not as outrageous as it seems. You see, the typo was on her Chinese name. And nobody noticed except my father-in-law. Which is kind of a miracle because he hardly notices anything else in the WHOLE WORLD unless it is playing on the television VERY LOUDLY. The missing mark is such a subtle little stroke that I doubt anyone would notice, even if they knew how to read Chinese.

When Albert and I were engaged, we took a trip to Hong Kong with my parents to buy wedding invitations, a wedding dress, and party favors. Thinking back, this seems terribly extravagant. Nintendo GameBoys were just invented, and Albert and I took turns playing Super Mario on the plane ride for, like, fifteen hours. It was awesome. Just for the record, zero of my children should expect any pre-nuptial overseas trips. Sorrynotsorry.

Anyhow, when we were getting the wedding invitations printed, my parents weren’t sure how to “spell” Albert’s last name.

In English, it’s easy. F-U.

In Chinese it’s more complicated:

But my parents weren’t completely sure. It’s kind of like meeting a new friend named Mikayla. There are literally 180+ different ways to spell this name and there is no way of knowing which one is right. This puts you in a terribly awkward position, because some people get torqued if you misspell their names. And having it misspelled ON YOUR OWN WEDDING INVITATION might be a problem that haunts you forever.

So my parents couldn’t figure out whether it was

And get this! ALBERT DIDN’T KNOW EITHER! Now, Albert knows a LOT of things. He’s detail-oriented like it’s going out of style. But there are several things that he DOESN’T know about, such as Sports, Kardashians, and Chinese writing. These things are irrelevant and take up brain space that can be used for "relevant” things like calculus and dentistry.

This was 1991 before cellphones, so we couldn’t just call and ask the OG-Fus how to write their name. And the Internet WAS BARELY EVEN A THING! Can you fathom such an uncivilized world??

My parents asked the printer. He wasn’t sure. The printer asked other guys in the shop. They weren’t sure either. THERE ARE SERIOUSLY SO MANY CHINESE PEOPLE IN HONG KONG. Why was this hard??

OK, what was I even talking about….

Oh, yeah. The typo on my MFIL’s grave marker. After my father-in-law noticed it last spring, it started driving him bananas like when you get a blueberry seed stuck right in that little triangular space between the base of your two back molars. He considered trying to chisel the correction into the marble himself. He considered removing the marker and having the whole thing redone.

Albert was trying REALLY HARD to find a sensible solution to this snag without opening up a can of worms. Although I can really think of no better place than a cemetery for an open can of worms....

"Why don't you use a Sharpie?" I asked him. He thought I was joking, but Sharpies and duct tape can fix just about anything. Look how I spruced up our mailbox plate with a metallic gold Sharpie.

I have also used Sharpies to touch up paint on my cars. And mask scratches on furniture. And cover up bleach drips on clothes. And retouch my grey roots.

Oh, yes, I DID.

That metallic silver Sharpie did a great job on the grave marker! It only required the tiniest stroke, smaller than a grain of rice! PLUS I got a senior discount. This surprised me AND made me mad.

I was so mad that I took the money and ran! Hmmph. I figured it was a mistake. My kind-hearted friends presumed that Michael’s might have a VERY YOUNG senior discount. I looked it up. It’s 55. Which isn’t as horrifying as possible, since I was 51½ at the time. BUT STILL. I'm no Julia Roberts, but I like to think that I’m a graceful 51½ and look nowhere near 55.

My sister speculated that it might have been because Albert was with me. He’s 53 and has a head of thick silver hair. No Sharpie root retouching for him! But Albert was NOT at Whole Foods this past week when I got ANOTHER senior discount.

“Did you ASK for one?” Well, no. I had never considered asking for a senior discount. I certainly wouldn’t be having all these feelings if I had asked for one and someone simply gave it to me, now, would I?

Why do seniors even GET discounts anyhow? I kind of understand it at a restaurant, because some older people just don’t eat as much. Like little kids get restaurant discounts. Makes sense.....A TINY bit. Because leftovers, you know? And if you wrap leftovers up in foil shaped like an animal, nobody cares if you pay a little bit more.

You know who should get discounts at restaurants? People who chew with their mouths closed and don't show their toes or buttcracks. And people who smell good and don't talk too loud.

Our family gets military discounts sometimes, which is a cool gesture of appreciation for service. I got a student discount when I visited the Philadelphia Art Museum this summer! Fair nuff. Students are usually strapped.

But why seniors? They have had lots of time to earn and save. Their dependents are no longer relying on them if all went well. My grandma was the one who was always slipping me a twenty on the sly. So what’s the deal?

Probably just makes them happy.

Who am I calling “them??” DISCOUNTS MAKE ME HAPPY!!

I’ve decided to embrace this. I’m not certain why I got these discounts, but I’ve saved four bucks so far! That’s enough to put a spring in my step.....with the generic fiber supplement I can treat myself to now!

I don’t look old. More importantly, I don’t FEEL old. I take care of myself but you won’t see me lining up for a facelift. Why? The same reason I only considered a boob job for about thirty seconds after my children ruined my rack: I’m a big chicken.

These are painful, serious surgeries! I’ll happily live with comfortable wrinkles and saggy boobs. I DO kind of wish there were such a thing as that leg extending surgery from the movie “GATACA,” however.

Oops, I got off track again. Senior discounts. Right.

In contrast, I also got carded last week at Flying Pie Pizzeria when buying a pitcher of cider. Albert and I were there with my 21-year-old son, so it KIND of seems reasonable. I ordered the pitcher, and the fellow behind the counter says, "Can I see some IDs?"

Alex pulled out his ID, the fellow scrutinized it, and then turned to me expectantly. "You want to see MY ID, too?" Yes, he did.

I waited patiently as he took careful note of my birth date. Perhaps he was doing a little mental calculation and became confounded when he deduced that I have been of legal drinking age for 31 years SINCE NINETEEN EIGHTY-EIGHT when a movie ticket cost $3.50 and Madonna was desperately seeking Susan. Come on-come on-come-on! I'm waaaaaiiiiit-ing!

Then we hit a sna-FU! Albert had left his wallet at home! Momentary panic ensued until the fellow behind the counter said to Albert, "Oh, nah. YOU'RE fine."

Maybe I should have shown him my license AND THEN demanded a senior discount.

I wish you all a wonderful week, my friends!

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Can You Smell What the Fu is Cooking?

Some people LOVE to cook. They find it fun and relaxing. It’s their expression of creativity!

Not. Me.

This level of nonsense borders on a schizophrenic flight of ideas. "Look at the sun, sun, bun, honeybun, bun in the oven cooking is fun." That's two cans short of a six pack, amiright?

There are a million, zillion things I’d rather do than cook. I enjoy good food, but I am also content with smoothies or sandwiches practically every day.

But….it was really important to make healthful meals for my family. PLUS it’s a GIANT money-saver! I could spend $30 putting together a REALLY NICE meal for the five of us, while we can rarely leave a restaurant without plunking down at LEAST a hundred bucks.

But it’s no E-ticket ride. Cooking is a dreaded, never-ending chore. No matter how many times I cook or what a GREAT JOB I do, my family only wants more, more MORE! Deciding what to cook, gathering groceries, then actually putting together a meal was a HUGE part of each day. Ain’t nobody got time for dat!

And I wasn’t the ONLY one cranky about daily family dinners. Finding a recipe that all Fus agreed on was a challenge. Gratitude was rare and there was always at least one Fu complaining about my lovingly-although-reluctantly-prepared repast. Albert wasn’t usually the complainer. He’s been with me since the beginning of my culinary development, and he has experienced JUST HOW BAD my cooking can be. So depending on the meal and the alignment of the planets, I fluctuated between about a 20-60% disapproval rating every evening.

Even more exhausting than the mealtime complaints were the PRE-mealtime grievances that began around noon each day. “Mom, what’s for dinner?”

Chicken and broccoli chow mein:

       Kid 1: I wanted spaghetti!

       Kid 2: NOT AGAIN!

       Kid 3: Ok, whatever.

Spaghetti and salad:

       Kid 1: Ok, whatever.

       Kid 2: *bad mood. no response*

       Kid 3: I’m not hungry.

Omelets and pancakes:

       Kid 1: Make sure the syrup doesn’t touch the eggs.

       Kid 2: Ok, whatever.

       Kid 3: That’s not dinner.

At some point, I attempted to curtail complaints by not answering, which totally backfired. “Mom, what’s for dinner? MOM! What’s for dinner? MOM!! WHAT’S FOR DINNER??”

My next experiment was the non-answer answer, but that also bombed.

       Kid: Mom, what’s for dinner?

       Me: I’m not going to tell you.

       Kid: Why not?

       Me: Because I don’t want to hear you complain about it.

       Kid: I won’t complain.

       Me: Someone ALWAYS complains.

       Kid: No, we don’t.

DO YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS HEADED?? A conversation like this could go on for DAYS. Times three kids. 

On a desperate day of weakness, I lamented to my kids. "I don’t like telling you what’s for dinner because you complain. But I ALSO don’t feel comfortable not answering you." 

Alex gave me the BEST IDEA EVERRRR! “Why don’t you just tell us that you’re making us a Surprise Dish?”

For a few months, the daily questioning endured. Kids are persistent AF unless a quest involves anything that a parent can do for them. Chores, tying shoes, and homework get one try before declaring defeat.

The kids got really mad at first.

       Kid: What’s for dinner?

       Me: Surprise Dish!

       Kid: No, really. Tell me what’s for dinner.

       Me: I told you, Surprise Dish!

       Kid: MOM! TELL ME!

       Me: OK, can you keep a secret? I’ll whisper it in your ear. *Surprise Dish*

After a little while, the kids changed their tactic. “Mom, what’s for dinner? Don’t say Surprise Dish.” But there was only ever one answer for my sweet angels.

After several months of having the MOST annoying mom EVER, they’d ask less often and kind of grumble-answer themselves. “Mom, what’s for dinner, oh yeah, Surprise Dish.”

About six months after the experiment commenced, there were no more questions about dinner! Now that’s not to say that the griping ceased! But at least I only listened to objections about my meals for about one hour a day instead of five. THAT, my friends, is a PARENTING SUCCESS!

Many years later, I got an idea from Love and Logic to enlist the kids’ help in preparing family meals. One summer when they were about 11, 12, and 13 years old, they took charge of planning and preparing one meal per week. If you think about it, that’s a pretty sweet deal for me! I should have had SEVEN kids instead of just three!

I proposed the idea to them this way. "You each be in charge of one meal per week; that’s about four meals per month. And I’ll be in charge of the other EIGHTEEN meals in that month. Does that sound fair?"

They are reasonable kids, so it wasn’t a tough sell.

They were even excited at the beginning! The recipes they chose charmingly reflected their personalities. Alex consistently chose no-nonsense, one-pot meals like Mac and Cheese with Chicken and Broccoli. Audrey loved to experiment with Italian flavors like Penne with Sausage, Peas, and Mascarpone.

Chris has always been my most adventurous foodie. He was asking for sips of my “eth-prethoh” when he was just a toddler! He consistently challenged my competence with the food items he requested each week. I’d open Google in the grocery aisle: What does a shallot look like? What is Demerara sugar? His first cooking endeavor was from Epicurious: Bison Burgers with Cabernet Onions and Wisconsin Cheddar.

AND the Questionable Parenting Ethics Award goes to....

The mom watching her 12-year-old prepare a red wine reduction!

Finding balance in the level of help to offer the kids was a challenge. I have never understood parents who love having their kids in the kitchen. *I* don’t even want to be in the kitchen, and adding children makes cooking even more messy and inefficient! If I helped, sometimes the kid would step back and I would end up doing all the work. NOT THE POINT. But if I left them on their own too much, frustration would ensue.

Not gonna lie, sometimes we had dinners that were not exactly delicious. This was an opportunity for me to model grace. “Thank you for cooking dinner for us.”

Along with cooking, the kids helped me make grocery lists and shop for food. The first grocery store run, we shopped together. The second time, the kids decided it would be more efficient to split the list and break into two teams. Good thinking! No Fus wanted to spend their whole summer in the grocery store!

I took half the list and the kids took the other half. Gott damm! I should have brought a chair and a book. They took FOR. EH. VERR.

So we made adjustments and ended up with a system of two teams of two people, along with a rotation so each kid took turns shopping with me, the expert at something FOR A CHANGE. By the end of the summer, we were GOLDEN. I dropped the boys off at Fred Meyer with my credit card while I went to Costco with Audrey.  We had the week’s shopping done in less than an hour. I should have started this years ago!

A couple of summers down the road, the kids negotiated a deal to bank their meals, making dinner four days in a row or more so they could have the rest of the month off. Smart cookies.

At some point, scheduling cooking time during the school year got complicated, so I think that dropped off after a year. But this arrangement continued each summer, and the kids developed mad skillz over time!

If you have the time and patience, I highly recommend involving your children in meal preparation! I have confidence that my kids know how to gather and prepare food, and they have developed appreciation for the effort that this requires. More importantly, THEY have this confidence under their well-fed belts! They understand that some meals will be more tasty than others. They are not afraid to experiment.

And they feel PROUD! Each has expressed shock when they see friends who don’t know how to find something in the grocery store, crack an egg, or prepare vegetables that are not frozen. They say, “I learned this when I was, like, TWELVE!”

You’re welcome, Child. Just LOOK at that sweet, proud face!

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I Will Survive...And So Will You

The Fu Household has been OFF DA HOOK these past few weeks! Two of my kids finished up their summer vacays and moved back to school. We helped both of them set up their first apartments, which was next-level rewarding. We are also in the midst of moving my father-in-law from Southern California to Oregon. *AND* I started school. So it has been BANANAS around here….. AND I’VE LOVED IT! But only because these are all happy things and I knew that life would slow down after a spell. This pace is invigorating but definitely not sustainable.

Chris moved back to Philadelphia. Audrey moved back to Eugene.

When Chris left home for his first year in college, I was a mess for DAYS. It was such intense emotion that I could feel it physically. I don’t think it was sadness. He was starting college! That's a happy thing! I was a little scared that first year; I had never sent a kid to college! He was definitely ready, but he was so far away. And I knew he was scared, too, which was what probably got me feeling some kinda way. Man, I am totally sobbing right now just REMEMBERING how sad I was!

But three years later, I am confused by all the crying that happens EVERY. SINGLE. TIME I drop them off for school. I AM PLEASED AS PIE that they are moving forward with their dreams and finding their futures. ALL of my kids are thriving and I am STOOPID PROUD of them! And while I’m really happy to have them at home, I’m also very content to have them NOT at home.

I’ve accepted it. Nothing wrong with crying. I have great kids and I miss them when they’re gone. NBD. It’s healthier for me to just let it out rather than trying to stuff it down. Maybe 10 minutes and it’s over. Like Wolverine. Or like when I left them at preschool and they were crying like their arms were getting ripped off by Velociraptors, but then I peeked in and saw that they were just fine and up to their elbows in dry rice at the Tactile Table.

By the time my kids graduated from high school, they had become decent humans again and were fun to be around. SO UNFAIR. You parent these kids through their ridiculous tweens. You tolerate their mood swings and worry them through high school. You RISK YOUR LIFE teaching them how to drive. And THEY yell at YOU while they’re driving BECAUSE YOU ARE MAKING THEM NERVOUS!

But right around that last year, they settle down and revert to at least part-time sweetness once again. They speak in more than grunts and mumbles. They are interested in your ideas. They say thank you. They are pleasant to be around. So, yeah, I definitely miss them.

TWO of my cousins asked me about raising kids this past week. They are some of the best moms around! But they are worried and frustrated and exhausted by defiance and attitude. Remember when you were potty training, and people would tell you, “Don’t worry. You won’t be sending them off to high school in diapers.” This is kind of like potty training.....FOR EIGHT YEARS. It's messy! And mostly not fun but you cheer when they make it. The kids don't see the point in any of it.....yet.

So here's some encouragement for all you parents out there with tweens and teens. This, too, shall pass. It’s no cake walk, but YOU CAN DO IT! It will get better! You are doing a good job! You and your kids will be JUST FINE.

When I was a brand new parent, I was completely unprepared. I was so anxious and worried that I would break my baby. It took me a while to relax…..maybe ten years or so. I’m a slow learner. I didn’t have expectations of my perfect baby, but I began to shed the rigorous expectations I had of myself. My body was a mess from pregnancy and nursing. I was sleep-deprived and stumbled to work each day with at least a little bit of spit-up in my hair. Little did I realize that this was only the beginning of the steep decline of my pride.

As toddlers, my kids budded into tiny individuals. I was staying home full-time at this point. I was SO TERRIBLE at parenting, often angry and frustrated.  I asked the preschool director for guidance and she gave me several books and CDs. Conscious Discipline. How to Talk so your Kids will Listen and Listen so your Kids will Talk. Eventually we progressed to Love and Logic. I sobbed as I read some of those lessons. I was doing EVERYTHING WRONG! Fortunately my wonderful, patient, forgiving kids don’t hold this against me. They just loved me and wanted to be with me all the time and thought I was great. Until…..

They became tweens. 

At this stage, friends become more interesting and important than family. They are beginning to separate from you. It’s tough! But PLAY IT COOL! As scary and messy as it is, this is something you DEFINITELY want for them! Rather than approaching this as a problem, think of it as an opportunity to set an example for them: how to behave when someone you love is acting like a jerk and you’re both having lots of feelings. There will be moments when they come back to you, so be ready to bask in those fleeting expressions of love. It’s a roller coaster! Buckle up!

Cool-headed parenting LOOKS easy but it’s HARD AF. No matter how much screaming is going on inside your head, you have to CONTROL YOURSELF!

You don't have to face this alone! My girlfriends were always helpful for perspective and venting. Family therapy helped us smooth out a whole lot of treacherous bumps! I pretended that my fitness instructors were talking directly to me: You can do it! You're stronger than you think you are! Come on, keep going! And from my yoga teacher: Separate your back teeth. BREATHE.

Older parents with grown-up kids were THE BEST! They told me how horrible their children were growing up, but I could also see that their adult children were thriving in life. Seriously, they gave me hope at times I was hanging by a thread.

Albert and I made faces when the kids turned around. Or I squished their heads between my thumb and forefinger as they walked away. Surprisingly cathartic. Give it a try!

Then came high school, which is SO much more complicated now than it was in the 80s. The kids are so busy and not always delightful. Their circadian rhythms are whack so they ignore you all day and want to have deep discussions at 10pm when you can barely keep your eyes open. Once again you’re sleep-deprived and worried.

As they blossom into young adults, they cut you down. The closer you were, the more savage the insults. They love you SO MUCH that they feel the urge to make you seem as LAME as possible so that they can break free from you. It’s called Soiling the Nest, which is a cute name for a time that SUCKS. Shitting the Cave would be a more accurate term. Shitting on Mom's Head Twenty-four Seven would be even more precise.

Acceptance and grace and unconditional love are essential. You're going to have to DIG DEEP sometimes! NOTHING matters as much as the relationship. Not grades or getting chores done or even the most atrocious behavior. They’re only temporary douchbags.

I LOVE the movie, “Blood Diamond.” The kid becomes a child soldier and threatens to kill his dad. His dad says, “You are a good boy. You mother loves you so much. I am your father who loves you, and you will come home with me and be my son again.” So unless your kid is acting worse than that, BE CHILL! 

Trust your parenting to this point! I know you doubt yourself every day, because I still do, too! So I'm here to tell you that YOU ARE DOING A GREAT JOB!

Respect the choices your kids make. Grab a glass of wine while you give them space to figure things out on their own. THEN grab another glass of wine while you give them even more space. It's going to be uncomfortable. Seriously, join a wine club ......or five.

Be available for help or advice if they ask, and make it easy to ask for help. Swallow that sigh! Roll those eyes back into your head! Sometimes it’s hard to listen to their stories without freaking out, but RESTRAIN YOURSELF! Nobody...ESPECIALLY YOUR TEENS....will talk to you if you consistently second-guess or criticize.

Let them teach you. They’re smart, interesting people! Watch weird YouTube videos and share podcasts with them so you’ll have something to talk about. You don’t want to be a dinosaur. Your kids will be willing to bring you along on their journey, but you can’t be boring or excessively embarrassing. Let things go and take time to soak in the love when it's offered.

Teach them how to take care of themselves by example. *AHEM* This means you have to TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOURSELF. Be gentle with yourself. HAVE FUN being you! Your kids will be more likely to follow your example if you look like you're enjoying life.

Parents and kids grow up and evolve together. We make the best decisions we know in the moment and adjust accordingly. Stay cool. Trust yourself and your partner. Trust your kids. You’re doing JUST FINE.

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