I signed our family up for Spanish lessons because I thought it would be fun for us to learn something new together.

And obviously, I hoped we’d learn some Spanish. 😂

But I’m realizing there’s so much more being practiced in that room.

Listening.
Following directions.
Taking turns.
Receiving praise.
Trying something you don’t know how to do yet.
Handling frustration.
Being part of a group.
Recovering when things don’t go exactly as planned.

And those aren’t just lessons for my son.

I’m practicing too.

I’m noticing my expectations. The thoughts I have when he isn’t participating the way I pictured. The urge to correct, hurry things along, or worry about what other people are thinking.

And then I get to decide how I want to lead.

That’s one of the unexpected gifts coaching has given me.

Not a perfect response to every parenting moment, but the ability to notice what’s happening in my own head and lead from there with more purpose and compassion.

I talk about all of this in this week’s episode of The Self-Help Parent, as you listen, pay attention to what it brings up for you.

Maybe there’s a situation with your own child where you keep thinking, “I don’t know what to do here.”

Maybe you know what you want to teach, but you’re not sure how to lead them through it.

Bring me that!

Book a consult with me and let’s talk through what’s happening, what you’re thinking about it, and what you want to do next.

Listen to the episode here!

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Talk Soon!

Betsy

A couple weeks ago, I shared that I’m starting to put language around something I’ve been living for a long time, and I’m calling it Parenting by Design.

The heart of it was this:

I don’t want to parent by default.

I want to be intentional about the feeling of my home, the way I lead myself, the way I understand my child’s behavior, and the kind of person I want my son to copy.

Since writing that, I keep coming back to one word:

Capacity.

I learned this concept from Stacey Boehman, and once I heard it, it gave language to something I had already been noticing in my own parenting.

Capacity is how much we can hold, handle, or make room for.

And parenting takes capacity.

Not because we need to do it perfectly, but because leading a home asks a lot from us. It asks us to handle our emotions, keep some kind of rhythm, teach skills, repair when we mess up, and still be a human with our own needs.

This is why knowing better is not always enough.

We can know we don’t want to yell. We can know we want to stay calm. We can know we want to be patient. But if we are tired, overstimulated, hungry, confused, or carrying a thought like, “This should not be happening,” it becomes harder to lead the way we want to lead.

That does not mean we are doomed, it means we may need more capacity.

Emotional capacity to feel frustration, guilt, fear, or embarrassment without letting that feeling choose our next move.

Physical capacity to notice when our body needs rest, food, quiet, movement, or support.

Intellectual capacity to understand what is actually happening instead of making every hard moment mean something has gone wrong.

When my capacity is higher, I show up differently.

I can pause. I can repair. I can get clearer. I can notice what I’m making something mean. I can decide what kind of feeling I want to bring into my home.

And that changes the way the whole room feels.

This is just a piece of what I want to teach inside Parenting by Design because I think so many parents are trying to create a home they are proud of from a capacity they do not have yet.

And capacity can be built.

Step by step. Block by block. Moment by moment.

So for today, I want to leave you with this:

Where do you feel like you need more capacity right now?

Emotionally? Physically? Mentally? All of the above? lol

Not to judge yourself.

Just to notice.

Because noticing is usually where the work begins.

With sooo much love, Betsy

P.S. Watch for my Masterclass Release in August!

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I’m starting to put language around something I’ve been living for a long time, and I think I’m going to call it Parenting by Design.

It’s not fully polished yet. I’m still building it, noticing it, and watching how it shows up in my own home.

But the heart of it is this:

I don’t want to parent by default.

I don’t want to only react to the behavior, the rushing, the loud moments, the guilt, or the frustration.

I want to be intentional about the feeling of my home, the way I lead myself, the way I understand my child’s behavior, and the kind of person I want my son to copy.

This has been coming up for me a lot with Trey turning seven.

I keep thinking about the memories we’ve made, how much he has grown, and how much parenting has shaped me too.

And the question I keep coming back to is:

What do I want my child to remember about me?

Not because I need to be perfect.

Because I want to be aware.

Because I am the leader of my home, and I get to decide what I want to practice more of.

That’s what I’m creating with Parenting by Design.

A way for parents to look at their home, their reactions, their child’s behavior, and their own leadership with more purpose.

I’ll share more as I build it.

But for today, I want to leave you with this:

What do you want your child to remember about you?

Betsy

So we were at the public pool recently and a mom at the pool said something that stuck with me.

She was annoyed with her kids and we made eye contact, she said, "I try to do something nice for them and they act up."

I smiled and told her I understood because haven't we all been there?😅

You take them somewhere fun. Buy the snack. Plan the outing. And somehow everyone's upset.

Lately I've been noticing that a lot of parenting frustration comes from expecting a boundary or decision to create a certain reaction.

We think, "If I do something nice, they'll appreciate it." Or, "If I explain it well, they'll understand." Or, "If I'm being reasonable, they won't be upset."

Then they get upset anyway.

One thing I'm learning is that leadership isn't getting the reaction you want.

Leadership is being able to make a decision and stay steady when your child doesn't like it.

I can say no to more candy and my son can be disappointed.

I can decide it's time to leave the playground and he can wish we stayed longer.

Both things can be true.

The goal isn't getting our kids to agree with every decision we make. The goal is knowing what to do next when they don't.

That's the kind of parenting I've been interested in lately.

Less control. Less proving a point. More leadership. More confidence. More trust in ourselves.

Because when we stop needing our kids to react a certain way, parenting gets a whole lot lighter.

Love, Betsy

P.S. This is a big part of what I help parents with. Not just understanding child behavior, but learning how to lead through it with confidence. If you'd like support with that, hit reply and tell me what's been challenging lately.

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I’ve been thinking about boundaries lately, not in the “say this perfect sentence and your child will magically listen” way.

More in the real-life way.

The tired-at-bedtime way.

The “I already said no and now my child has feelings about it” way.

And i really started thinking about how I do it in my home.

Setting a boundary sounds real simple until you’re the one standing there with a tired kid, a whining voice, and your own brain starting to question everything.😅

Because honestly, most of the time, we know the boundary…

TV is done.

The tablet is off.

We’re leaving the park.

The kitchen is closed.

You can’t hit me.

You can’t have that right now.

We usually know what the limit is we need to say.

The harder part is what happens after we say it.

Our child gets disappointed.

They protest.

They ask again.🙃

They say, “But I want it.”

And then something happens in us.

We start feeling like we need to prove the point, teach the lesson, explain it better, defend our decision, or get them to understand why the boundary makes sense.

And this is where I think a lot of power struggles start.

So, I asked myself how do I set the limit without turning it into a fight?

How do I let Trey be disappointed without making his disappointment mean I’m doing something wrong?

How do I stay respectful without giving in?

To me, its not just about getting Trey to listen and obey us. It is about us learning how to lead and model my behavior when he does not like the answer.

And listen, our kids are going to be disappointed sometimes. They are going to want more TV, more snacks, more time, more toys, more of whatever feels really important in that moment. And still, I don’t want my child to grow up thinking disappointment means the whole room has to bend around him.

I don’t want him thinking boundaries have to come with yelling, shame, or a battle of wills either.

I want him to learn:

“I can want something and not get it.”

“I can be disappointed and still be okay.”

“Someone can tell me no and still love me.”

“And someday, I can say no too without crumbling inside.”

That is the part that matters to me.

So last week on The Self-Help Parent Podcast, I talked about what actually goes into setting a boundary without turning it into a fight.

I share a real bedtime moment with Trey where he wanted the TV on, I said no, and I walked through the little process I use to keep myself from getting pulled into the power struggle.

I’m calling it The Boundary Without Battle Process.

Listen to last week’s episode: How to Set a Boundary Without Turning It Into a Fight

Take care, Betsy

Sometimes the hardest part of parenting is not actually the child.

It’s what happens in our own head after the child has a hard moment: the doubt, the pressure, the “am I doing this right?”, the “what are people thinking?”, the “why is this still so hard?”

And honestly, this is where I think parenting can get really messy.

Because once we decide a hard behavior means something terrible, we stop leading from the actual moment in front of us. We start leading from fear.

And that is not usually when we do our best parenting.

My point of view is this:

Hard behavior is not the verdict. It is information.

That does not mean we ignore it. It does not mean we let our child run the house. It does not mean we avoid boundaries.

It means we stop making every hard moment mean something has gone wrong and start asking, “What needs to be led here?”

Because that is the work.

Leadership.

Not parenting for the crowd. Not proving our child is easy. Not trying to control them into looking better.

Actually leading.

Understanding what is happening. Holding the boundary. Teaching the skill. Taking responsibility for what happens next.

I keep coming back to this thought:

Parent the child in front of you, not the crowd.

The crowd does not know your child, your values, or what you are trying to teach. And honestly, they do not have to.

Your job is not to make the moment look perfect.

Your job is to lead the moment.

That is what I want to help parents do: look at hard behavior as information and lead from there.

So if you want support with this, hit me up.

This is kind of what I do.

Take care,
Betsy

P.S. Check out my latest Self Help Parent Podcast episode 19 to hear how we set boundaries in our home!

I saw something recently about parent confidence, and it made me think. A lot of parents say they feel confident in their parenting on a typical day.

And honestly, I believe that.

Most parents are not clueless. We love our kids. We know them. We know what matters to us. We know the kind of parent we want to be. But I keep thinking about that phrase: on a typical day.

Because typical days are not usually where parenting gets tricky.

It’s more like when you run into someone at the store and you’re trying to have a normal adult conversation for 45 seconds, and your six-year-old is beside you making every noise his body has ever learned how to make.

The humming. The clicking. The fake burping. The climbing on the cart. The “Mom. Mom. Mom. Can we go? Can I get this? What are you talking about?” And you’re trying to listen to this person while also sending silent mom messages through your eyeballs like, please, for the love of all things holy, give me one minute.

That’s the moment.

Not the easy moment where everyone is fed, rested, and emotionally available. The real moment where you can love your child deeply and still feel wildly irritated. You can know he’s not trying to ruin your life and still want the noises to stop. You can be a confident parent and still feel your body wanting to snap.

That is why I care so much about parent support.

Not because parents are failing. Because parenting happens while we are also humans. Humans with tired bodies, full brains, our own needs, and sometimes the very normal desire to finish one grocery store conversation without becoming a one-woman circus director.

For me, the work is not pretending I don’t get annoyed. It’s noticing what happens inside of me and learning how to lead from there. Maybe I say, “You want my attention. I’m talking for one more minute, then I’ll answer you.” Maybe I give him a job: “Can you hold the list?” or “Can you count how many blue things are in this aisle?” And sometimes, I just wrap up the conversation and move on because that’s the capacity we have that day.

That counts too.

I think we sometimes expect confidence to mean, “I always know what to do.” But maybe real parenting confidence is more like, “I can be irritated and still lead. I can be tired and still repair. I can want space and still love my kid. I can have needs too.”

That is the kind of confidence I’m interested in.

Not perfect-parent confidence. Not “my kid never acts wild in public” confidence. But the kind where we can be in a hard moment without making it mean we’re bad parents or our kids are a problem.

Because our kids are learning in those moments. They are learning how we handle interruptions, embarrassment, frustration, limits, needs, and repair. They are learning that they matter, and other people matter too.

That’s the work I care about.

Helping parents understand what is happening in the moment, so they can lead from there.

Take care,
Betsy

I get asked all the time if we’re going to have more kids.

And honestly, I usually just say, “No, we’re kind of a One & Done family.”

But lately I’ve realized… it’s not just a random answer.

I actually really like our life.

I like my time.
I like my rest.
I like our connection.

I like that we can take trips without needing a whole family logistics department 😂

I like that I can pour into him and still have room for my own dreams too.

And I know people have their opinions about only children, but for us, there are real reasons this feels good.

The financial part matters.
The freedom matters.
My energy matters.
Our family rhythm matters.

And honestly, I don’t think enough people say that out loud.

You can love being a parent and still know your limits.

You can love your child deeply and still want space, rest, freedom, and a life that feels good for you too.

That doesn’t mean parenting one child is always easy though.

Because one thing I’ve been noticing is that when there’s one child, there is just more room for one-on-one connection.

More time.
More attention.
More space to lean in.

Not because we have to do it perfectly or because we’re doing something wrong, but because the family dynamic is different.

There aren’t siblings pulling our attention in different directions. There aren’t three different snack requests happening at once. There isn’t always another child to play with, argue with, wait on, or share with.

So a lot of that lands on the parent.

And honestly, I think many of us kind of love that part.

We love having one child.

And also…

Sometimes the attention is a lot.
The negotiations are a lot.
The guilt can be a lot.
The pressure to always be available can be a lot.

And then there’s the stuff we wonder about.

How do we teach waiting when there aren’t siblings waiting too?

How do we teach sharing without forcing weird little “life lessons” all day?

How do we help our child play independently without feeling like we’re ignoring them?

How do we keep the connection without becoming the full-time entertainer?

I don’t have some giant conclusion here yet 😂

I just know I want to start talking about this more.

Because as a life coach for parents, this is the kind of thing I’m always paying attention to.

Not just, “How do we get kids to listen?”

But what’s happening in us when they don’t?

Where do we feel guilty?
Where do we overdo it?
Where do we hand over the whole room because we’re tired, unsure, or trying so hard to do it right?

I think there’s something really interesting about the One & Done home dynamic.

And I have a feeling a lot of us are figuring it out as we go.

Maybe you’ll relate too.

With heart,
Betsy

PS: I’m beginning to build more coaching support around the One & Done home dynamic. If you’re raising one young child and this feels like your world, reply and tell me what part hit home.

With Love, Betsy

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When we think our child is struggling, it makes sense that we start looking for answers: Birth to Three, evaluations, doctor appointments, therapy, or possible diagnoses like ADHD, autism, anxiety, or developmental delays.

And yes, support matters. Get the help. Ask the questions. Use the services.

But I keep wondering if we are sometimes too quick to label the child before we look at the skills the adults around them.

Not because parents are bad.

Because parenting is a skill.

Most of us were handed children without ever being taught- how to stay steady through their big feelings, resistance, mistakes, noise, disappointment, or very normal little-human chaos.

A label can help us understand the child, but it cannot replace the adult learning how to lead.

I don’t mean every diagnosis is wrong. Some children absolutely need services, therapy, evaluations, accommodations, and extra support.

But sometimes we say, He has anger issues. She has bad anxiety. Nothing works with this kid, before we slow down and look at the whole picture.

I think about this with Trey when he was three and we tried Mommy & Me gymnastics.

During circle time, the kids were supposed to sit, stretch, and follow along. And Trey was making laps around the circle like he thought we had accidentally signed up for Duck Duck Goose.

My first feeling was embarrassment.

My brain went straight to, Oh my gosh, he should be sitting. People are looking. I need to make him listen.

And that pressure made me want to snatch him up, sit him down, and control the behavior as fast as possible.

But when I slowed down, I could see the child in front of me.

He was three. He was excited. He was in a big open gym, with other kids, space to run, and a body that wanted to move more than it wanted to sit and stretch.

That did not mean something was wrong with him.

To me, it meant he loved this big space and was still learning how to be in said big, exciting space and settle his body enough to participate.

That is a skill.

And once I could see it as a skill, I could feel compassion instead of pressure.

We stayed with gymnastics for a little while, and eventually I realized that class was not the best fit for that season. That did not mean, He can’t do activities. He never listens. Group classes are impossible.

It meant, Okay, this is a skill we are still building.

Later, he tried ninja class, and that fit him better. He got to move more. He learned that rules are in place so the game is fun! Yes he had to wait in line, listen to directions, and take turns, but he was learning those skills in an environment that made more sense for him.

“No great thing is created suddenly.” — Epictetus

That is what parenting the child in front of you looks like.

Not forcing them into what you think they should be ready for.

Not giving up and deciding they can’t do it.

But noticing the skill gap and asking, How can I help my child grow from here?

Maybe that means more outside time. Maybe it means practicing waiting in small doses. Maybe it means giving directions during something fun, so listening does not feel like shame. Maybe it means using a visual timer or preparing them for what comes next. Maybe plainly stating our expectations before we get there.

The point is to lead them toward the skill.

And listen, people around you may think you should “nip it in the bud” or “teach them who’s boss.” They may have opinions about how fast your child should listen, how quiet they should be, or how much control you should have.

Let them talk.

You are building something bigger here.

You are helping your child learn without shame, fear, or punishment being the only teacher in the room.

Because parenting results do not come from controlling our children.

They come from managing our own minds.

And when I can think, My child is being a child, and nothing has gone wrong here, I feel compassion instead of pressure. From there, I can meet him where he is, support what he needs, and help him build the skills to grow.

That is the work I love doing with parents.

Not just handing you a script. Not just sending another PDF. Not just giving you a list of “try this” while you’re secretly thinking, Girl, I already tried that and my kid still lost their mind.

We talk through the real moment. The one you keep replaying. The one you feel embarrassed about. The one where you yelled, gave in, shut down, or thought, What the hell is wrong with my kid?

And we look at what your brain made it mean.

That is where the shift happens.

You start to understand your child more.

You stop seeing every behavior as something to fix, punish, or shut down, and you start seeing it as communication.

You can still use the services. You can still ask the questions. You can still get the evaluation if your child needs it.

But you do not have to feel powerless while you wait for someone else to tell you what is going on.

You can learn how to read the behavior, manage your own mind, and lead the moment in front of you with out all the guilt and confusion.

That is the result.

Want help with this? Reply and tell me what goes through your mind when your child still doesn’t listen after you’ve said it three times. That moment tells us so much, and we can start there.

With so much love,
Betsy

It is not:
“My child listens perfectly now.”
“I never lose my patience.”
“Everything at home is smooth now.”

It is more like:

“I didn’t brush her off.”
“I knew what to say.”
“That moment didn’t turn into a whole ordeal.”
“I stayed calmer than I usually do.”
“I could tell what was really going on.”

One mom told me the most helpful shift for her has been validating her daughter’s feelings instead of rushing past them.

So instead of, “You’re fine,” when she trips, she says, “I bet that did hurt.”

Instead of immediately shutting down the candy conversation, she says, “Yeah, I know you want candy. Maybe we can have some after dinner.”

Simple? Yes.

But in real mom life, that kind of shift changes a lot.

Because those are the moments that usually spiral.
The moments where your child wants something now, or gets hurt, or starts getting upset, and you are already maxed out.

And when you respond differently, it often changes the tone of the whole thing.

Not always perfectly.
Not every time.
But enough that you start noticing:
this is going better than it used to.

That is the kind of progress I care about.

Not perfect behavior.
Not a parenting script that works 100% of the time.
Not pretending the hard moments disappear.

I care about moms feeling less stuck.
Less reactive.
More clear on what to say.
More able to handle the moment in front of them without it turning into a power struggle every single time.

Because most moms do not need more parenting tips thrown at them.

They need support with the exact moments that keep wearing them down.

The whining.
The meltdowns.
The repeating yourself.
The guilt after you snapped.
The moments where you know better, but you cannot seem to do better when you are in it.

That is why this kind of support matters.

Not because you are failing.
Because it is hard to see clearly when you are living inside it.

And sometimes a small shift in how you respond changes more than you expected.

That is the kind of change I’m hearing from parents.
And honestly, that is the kind of work I love most.

If you want support with your real-life parenting moments, my membership is built for that.

The Potential Within Parent Membership

7 Alternatives to Punishment PDF

Tantrum Series: A Simple Plan

We had moms painting, snacks out, kids in the playroom, and the hope that everyone would get a little space to breathe.

But some of the little ones kept coming back in.

They wanted the crackers.
They wanted the paint.
They wanted their mom’s lap.
They wanted in.

And honestly, I think most of us understood.

We all talked about how hard this can be for both the parent and the child. I even shared that my own son probably would have been in there with me too. He has done this before at a painting event for moms. He ended up helping me paint.

Was it what I pictured? Not exactly.

I was painting flowers. He wanted black paint on my canvas.

Not exactly the creative direction I had in mind.

But in that moment, I had a choice. I could get frustrated that the plan was not going the way I wanted, or I could work with what was actually happening.

I chose to lean in and work as a team with him.

That is the part I keep thinking about.

Because moments like this are not usually about bad kids or bad parenting. They are about real people having a hard moment together.

A parent can feel loving, overwhelmed, compassionate, annoyed, and pulled in ten different directions all in the same five minutes. Especially when drinks spill, paint water tips over, and the break you were hoping for starts slipping away.

That does not mean you are doing it wrong.

It means you are human.

And it also means we may need to be more honest about what little kids can actually handle.

Two- and three-year-olds are not always able to happily stay in another room while their mom does something they also want to be part of. Not without support. Not without connection. Not without someone helping them feel safe and engaged there.

Sometimes they do not need more correction.
Sometimes they need more help.

And sometimes we as moms need to release the picture in our head of what the moment was supposed to look like.

Sometimes me time looks peaceful and uninterrupted.

Sometimes it looks like sharing your canvas.
Sometimes it looks like painting with one hand and holding a child with the other.
Sometimes it looks like teamwork.

I am not sharing this to shame anyone. Truly.

I am sharing it because I think this is something so many moms experience. You try to enjoy something. Your child needs you. The plan falls apart. And suddenly you are stuck between wanting space and not wanting to make your child feel like they matter less than the thing you were trying to do.

That tension is real.

And I think there is room for more compassion there. For the moms. For the kids. For the people trying to help in the other room. For all of it.

Maybe some Me Time for Mom events can still offer separate play spaces.

And maybe some need to be built with the understanding that moms and little kids may need to work together, not apart.

Maybe there is room for both.

What I know for sure is this:

Young children are not trying to ruin the moment.
And moms are not failing because the moment got messy.

Sometimes the best question is not, “How do I make my child stop?”

Sometimes the better question is, “What would teamwork look like here?”

That question changes a lot.

If this kind of message speaks to you, this is the kind of conversation I want to keep having, both here and inside the spaces I create for moms. Real support. Real life. No shame.

If you’ve lived a moment like this, I’d love to hear what it brought up for you.

With love, Betsy

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