Parenting lately? A whirlwind. A full-blown emotional roller coaster. One minute, I’m the annoying reminder machine—“Did you brush your teeth? Clear your plate? Do your homework?”—and the next, I’m the unexpected Lego-building companion of choice. It’s a constant dance between rejection and connection, frustration and deep, heart-expanding love.

The eye rolls, the sighs, the ughhhh responses—I feel them. They land. The energy of frustration, irritation, correction. It’s a steady wave of “Mom, you don’t get it,” and sometimes, it’s exhausting. And yet, just when I think I’m completely out of favor, Leo wanders into my office, casually asking, “Do you have a Lego I can build?”

Cue the drumroll.
With me.

Did I just win an Oscar? Because it sure felt like it.

The rejection stings, but I remind myself: this is not personal. This is adolescence. This is an 11-year-old growing, shifting, figuring it out. My job? Show up. Again and again. Let them trust that I am here, no matter what. They can be frustrated with me, annoyed by me, roll their eyes at me—and still, I will be here.

But let’s be real: sometimes, it’s hard. Like the dreaded mall trip for spring break clothes—where trying on Nike shorts felt like a medieval form of torture for both of us. Or the hockey locker room, filled with kids bouncing off walls, stirring up old wounds from my own childhood—the feelings of not belonging, of not being one of the “cool kids.” Leo’s challenges have a way of shining a light on my own unhealed bruises, forcing me to confront them.

This is the gold. Not in the easy, joyful moments—but in the hard ones. Because in these tough parenting moments, I’m not just showing up for Leo. I’m meeting my own inner child, my younger self who still carries wounds. The parts of me that learned to cope with judgment, rejection, or fear are still there, and now, I get to heal them.

The ultimate gift? I get to reparent myself as I parent Leo. I get to practice patience, letting go, repair, starting over, and—most importantly—remembering what really matters. I get to live the values I want to pass on: kindness, resilience, and the ability to find humor, dance, and joy even when things feel overwhelming.

If you’re feeling stuck in the hard, let me tell you this: it is not personal. I know it feels personal. But think about the insane changes your child is going through—social, physical, mental, emotional. They are navigating so much uncertainty, fear, and awkwardness, and sometimes, that all gets directed at the safest person they know: you.

They push because they trust you’ll still be there. They lash out because you are their steady ground. That doesn’t mean there aren’t boundaries. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. But remembering this truth can help you hold space for both them and yourself.

So, if you’re in the thick of the mess—take a deep breath. Give yourself grace. And when you get that unexpected Lego moment, celebrate it.