Like many parents during the pandemic, my living room became my office, my child’s classroom, and what I can only describe as a war zone of LEGO and forgotten snacks. In those early days, we weren’t just juggling responsibilities; we were reinventing them on the fly.

Mother’s Day is the Super Bowl of parenting appreciation—and if you’re the father of her children, you are the head coach. So it’s time to make a game plan.

Yes, our kids—smart, sensitive, endlessly creative—are struggling. And no, it’s not just about too much screen time (though we’ll get to that). It’s about loneliness, disconnection, and a deep sense of meaninglessness that seems to be creeping into childhood and adolescence earlier and earlier. That’s not just troubling. It’s heartbreaking.

For most modern families, having two working parents is the norm. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, nearly 70 percent of families with children under 18 have both parents in the workforce. It’s not just a trend, it’s a reflection of economic reality, shifting gender roles, and changing values around purpose and partnership.

Welcome to the resurgence of the trad wife and trad husband—couples who are leaning into traditional gender roles where one partner (often the wife) manages the home and kids full-time, while the other takes on the sole breadwinning responsibility.

When parents loosen the reins (within reason), kids develop grit, creativity, and resilience—the very qualities they'll need not just to survive but to thrive in an unpredictable world. The idea isn’t to abandon guidance or set children loose in the wilderness with a granola bar and a compass. It's about gradually allowing them to experience real responsibility and real consequences while the stakes are still low.

In a world spinning ever faster—divided, digital, and often dehumanized—kids need more than coding skills. They need compassion. The humanities train the moral imagination. They teach students not just what to think, but how to think—and why it matters.

Being a dad—really being a dad—isn’t about biology or providing in the 1950s sense of the word. It’s not just about tossing a football in the backyard or showing up for the occasional school assembly. It’s about diapers. Dishes. Midnight rocking sessions and middle-of-the-day doctor appointments. It’s about showing up every day; not just when it’s convenient.

If you’ve ever stepped on a LEGO brick barefoot, congratulations—one could argue you’re already halfway to raising an engineer. But if your child is more into asking a hundred “why” questions at dinner than building towers, you might be sitting on untapped STEM potential.

A mother shares her firsthand experience giving birth in both a hospital and at home. Explore the emotional highs, practical challenges, and surprising differences between hospital and home birth in this candid, heartfelt story.

In today’s whirlwind of parenting styles—gentle, attachment, free-range, helicopter—it’s easy to feel like raising a child is less about instinct and more about picking a brand. But amid the buzzwords, one tried-and-true style continues to quietly win the long game: authoritative parenting.

When a parenting style like gentle parenting comes along promising calmer kids, more empathy, and fewer tantrums (yours and theirs), it’s no wonder it’s caught fire like a dry pinecone in a summer campfire. But like any philosophy that looks great on Instagram, gentle parenting deserves a closer look.

There’s something magical about mud on your boots and sunshine on your face—especially when you’re experiencing it with your kid by your side. Whether you're hiking through redwood forests, skipping rocks across a lake, or simply chasing fireflies in the backyard, getting active in the great outdoors with your children is a powerful, joyful, soul-filling experience for both parent and child.

Once upon a time, kids devoured books like candy. Libraries were after-school sanctuaries, and summer reading challenges sparked fierce sibling rivalries (or maybe that was just in my house). But somewhere along the way—between screen time and standardized testing, social media and the short attention spans it breeds—reading took a backseat. And now, we’ve got a problem.

If you’re one of the families lucky enough to have support from your parents, don’t forget to show that gratitude. Yes, those lovely silver-haired humans who were supposed to be sipping cocktails on a cruise or perfecting their backswing are now, more often than not, knee-deep in diaper changes, soccer practice drop-offs, and endless episodes of Bluey.

Let’s set the scene: You’ve lovingly prepared a colorful, nutritious, Pinterest-worthy meal. You present it to your toddler with pride, hoping for cheers, applause, maybe a grateful “Thank you, Mama/Dada!” Instead, you’re met with a firm “No.” Welcome to dinner time with a toddler.

Let’s face it: when the economy gets shaky—thanks to things like, oh I don’t know, a good ol’ fashioned trade war—our wallets start to shrink faster than a sweater in a hot dryer. Imported cheese gets pricier, your favorite gadgets suddenly carry a tariff tax, and even the dollar menu isn’t so… dollar-ish anymore.

When HBO’s White Lotus drops a new season, most of us immediately Google flights to Sicily, then gasp dramatically, close the laptop, and go make instant ramen. But there are ways to stretch your budget and maximize your experience in any locale.

Ah, the grand culinary adventure of introducing solids to your little one! Enter the stage: Baby-Led Weaning (BLW), a method that has parents either singing its praises or clutching their pearls. Let's embark on a flavorful journey through the world of BLW, exploring its delectable delights and potential pitfalls, all while sprinkling in insights from many respected sources.

Netflix’s Adolescence is more than just a gripping drama; it's a mirror reflecting the complexities of modern fatherhood. The series centers on Jamie Miller, a 13-year-old boy arrested for the murder of a classmate, and delves deep into the societal and familial factors that shape young minds.