• Sometimes I have to take my child out of school for healthcare appointments.
• Perfect attendance can depend on health, access to care, and whether a parent can leave work.
• I'd rather schools reward kids for showing up after hard times than for perfect attendance.

Whenever I schedule an appointment during the school day, I feel guilty.

I ask for their latest available appointment. If that doesn't work, I pull up the school calendar. Then I start doing the ridiculous parent math: How long is the drive? What class will my child miss? Can I get them back before the final bell? Is there some magical way to make a 10:30 appointment happen without blowing up half the school day? Usually, there isn't. So I take the appointment.

I'm a mother in rural North Carolina. Healthcare providers aren't always five minutes down the road, and appointments that fit perfectly between school dismissal and dinner aren't exactly falling from the sky. Sometimes the appointment you need is at 10:30 a.m. on a Tuesday. And sometimes you take it. I still feel guilty about it almost every time.

I want my child in school. Of course I do. I know how quickly one missed class can turn into a missing assignment, which then becomes another assignment they don't understand because they missed the first one. But I also have to take care of my child. Sometimes those two responsibilities bump right into each other. And that's probably why perfect-attendance awards have always bothered me.

My child is my priority

I understand why schools care about attendance. Kids need to be in classrooms. They need instruction, routine, relationships with teachers and classmates, and all the little pieces of school that are hard to recreate at home. When a child is missing a lot of school, I absolutely think families should be supported in figuring out why and helping that child get back into a routine.

But perfect attendance is something different. An unbroken attendance record isn't necessarily a measure of how hard a child tried. Kids don't choose when they get the flu. They don't control when the specialist finally has an opening. They can't give their parents paid time off, fix the car when it won't start, make the school bus come down a road it doesn't serve, or move a doctor's office 45 minutes closer to home.

The certificate may have a child's name printed on it, but there's a whole lot of family circumstance behind that streak. I work for myself, which gives me more flexibility than many parents have. I can move things around when an appointment pops up. That doesn't mean the lost work hours don't matter, but I can usually make it happen.

A parent working an hourly job may be making a completely different calculation. Can I afford to lose three hours of pay? Will my boss be irritated? How many times have I already had to leave early this year?

And that's before we even get into transportation, housing instability, access to healthcare, chronic illness, or any of the other things families may be dealing with that nobody sees when the certificates get handed out. Those circumstances matter. They just aren't evidence that one child tried harder than another.

One sick day shouldn't erase a year's worth of effort

As parents, we already have to make enough judgment calls when our kids are sick. Is this a stay-home sick or a send-them-and-see sick? Are they actually exhausted or just really, really not interested in going to math?

We're told attendance matters. And it does. We're also told to keep our kids home when they're contagious because sending them to school sick exposes others to illness. Both things can be true.

Then we turn around and give an award for never missing a day. That's where I get stuck. One fever in October can knock a child out of the running for an award handed out in June.

I don't want to hesitate before keeping my sick child home because some part of my brain is thinking about an attendance record. And I definitely don't want my child learning that dragging yourself through school when you feel awful is proof that you're more dedicated.

Sometimes staying home is the responsible choice. Sometimes missing school for an appointment is the responsible choice. And sometimes the impressive part isn't never missing school at all, it's coming back.

I'd rather see schools recognize persistence

I'm not suggesting schools stop caring whether kids come to school. Chronic absenteeism is a real problem, and families dealing with it may need more support, not less. But perfection doesn't have to be the prize.

Recognize the kid whose attendance improved from one grading period to the next. Celebrate shorter milestones. Acknowledge the student who had a rough stretch and worked their way back into a routine.

Despite my views, I know I'll keep doing the school-day appointment math. I'll keep asking for the latest opening. I'll keep checking the calendar. I'll keep trying to minimize what my child misses and help them catch up when missing school can't be avoided. And I'll probably still feel a little guilty every time.

My child may never earn a perfect-attendance award. I'm fine with that. I'd much rather they learn that taking care of themselves is responsible, staying home when they're contagious is considerate, and showing up again after a hard stretch is something worth being proud of.

• My friend and I have 7 kids between us, including 3 sets of twins. We took a Disney cruise alone.
• I loved the adults-only spaces, trivia games, spa treatments, and relaxing on Disney's private island.
• I'm already planning another Disney cruise with my kids, though I might prefer going without them.

"You've never been on a cruise?" my friend basically yelled at me while we were planning an adults-only trip away from our kids. She insisted that cruising with her grandparents as an adult was one of the best trips she's ever taken.

So, despite being a little terrified of being aboard essentially a floating skyscraper with thousands of people, I agreed to a Disney cruise for just the two of us.

Honestly, it was so much fun that I'm already planning another Disney cruise with my kids — though I'm not sure I want to give up the adults-only version.

It was such an easy getaway

My family is known for taking really elaborate vacations. One time we stayed on a remote island near Sicily, which is an active volcano. It took us three flights and a long ferry ride to get there, but it was totally worth it to see the lava at night.

This trip was different. We took a flight from Boston to Orlando, boarded the Disney Wish, and after that, we didn't have to think about anything. We have seven kids between the two of us (including three sets of twins), and the ease of the Disney cruise was exactly what we both needed.

There were activities nonstop, and you could join any of them at any point. I took a quick class to learn how to draw Ursula, we participated in so many trivia games with other adults, and stopped to take photos with characters — who are all over the boat all the time — to send home to our kids.

I really liked that almost everything was included

Part of its ease was that most everything was included, so there were few extra costs. For example, all meals at the themed restaurants were part of the package, and we could order as many dishes as we wanted. Non-alcoholic beverages are also included, and you get room service 24/7.

I especially liked the buffet-style meals at Marceline Market because I could mix in some healthy options (there were plenty) with some of my faves, like the fried hash browns for lunch or the Mickey-shaped churro waffles (which were highly recommended by the whole staff).

Of course, there are fancier options, like the Italian restaurant Palo, for which we couldn't get a reservation during our trip. That said, we spent plenty of time at the Keg & Compass pub because on the first night I discovered their vodka dirty martini, which was hands down the best one I've ever had (yes, including fancy New York restaurants). Cocktail prices varied from bar to bar, but this martini was $14, which seemed super reasonable to me.

Visiting Castaway Cay was key

Disney cruises in the Caribbean stop at Disney's private island, Castaway Cay. And for me, it was a key stop.

While I've been on a lot of boats growing up — my dad loves fishing — I still get seasick a lot. And while I was surprised by how little the cruise ship rocked, I could still feel it a little bit. So getting off the boat and having my feet on the sand was necessary for me.

I also love the ocean, and the Caribbean water is the perfect mix of temperature, color, and soft sand. My favorite moment was drinking a frozen piña colada with my friend while taking in some sunshine.

I appreciated that the island has an adults-only section called Serenity Bay, which was quieter and more relaxed than the family beach. There's a restaurant off the beach, too, so we were able to eat lunch between dips in the water.

The schedule was packed

While there were nonstop activities on the boat, I was often torn between wanting to do two or more overlapping things. For example, there was bingo one night happening at the same time as trivia. Given the option, I would've done both, because who doesn't love a bingo night? There was another day when you could make your own friendship bracelets, but I had already booked a facial, and that craft didn't repeat during our stay.

Because our main goal was to spend time together and relax, I felt I didn't do many of the interesting activities the boat offered. But I also get that that's the point; there's something for everyone at any given time of the day.

We didn't book things in advance

Being a newbie worked against me when booking extra activities. I wanted to surprise my friend with a couple's massage so we could destress, and I also wanted a facial.

By the time I went to book spa treatments (about a week before we boarded), there were very few time slots available. Next time, as soon as I book my trip, I'll be adding all the extras I want to maximize availability.

That said, we ended up getting our massage on embarkation day, which turned out to be the perfect way to smoothly transition from the chaos of mom life to vacation mode. And at $399 for both of us, it wasn't that much more expensive than the massages I get back in Maine. I booked my facial for 8 a.m., which felt a little early, but again was the only available time. If I were to do it again, I'd book the facial in the afternoon so as not to cut into pool time.

I overpacked and didn't have room for souvenirs

When I tell you I packed and unpacked my bag about 10 times before boarding, I'm not exaggerating. The Disney cruise hosted a pirate night and a Halloween party, and I wanted to be prepared for both. I also didn't know what to expect to want to wear on a cruise, so I overpacked by a ton.

This left me with very little room for souvenirs, which I still bought, but had to carry an extra tote bag back home. All the shops on the boat have different themes and therefore offer different stuff. I bought a Mickey-cruise-themed men's shirt that got so many compliments on the day I wore it. I also bought my kids pens and small keychain stuffies with their favorite characters.

We weren't the only adults without kids

My friend, who has more cruise experience than I do, insisted it wouldn't be weird for us to be on a Disney cruise without kids. And she was right. We weren't the only ones enjoying the adults-only areas, which included an ample pool deck with a jacuzzi, a small pool, a dedicated bar, and a coffee shop. There were also adults-only activities, like dance parties and trivia. And obviously, all the bars were for 21+.

While we only stayed at the adults-only pool deck, we could still hear the movies blasting for the family-friendly pool deck, which at times made it hard to relax. That said, when "Frozen" came on, both my friend and I were singing along (and probably annoying other adult guests).

We met a couple who were older than us who were on their 41st cruise. They found me adorable, being so excited about my first experience on board. They told me to get ready to become a cruise person, and they weren't wrong.

I had such a great time that I'm already planning when to take another Disney cruise, this time with my whole family. Disney Cruise Lines just announced a new ship called Believe, which will feature an "Encanto" stage show — which just happens to be my kids favorite Disney movie.

I cannot wait to see my kids' eyes go wide when they see how many things they can do, and for them to be ready to take a photo with their favorite Disney character, Daisy Duck.

• Of course I'm a fun aunt, but I've figured out a way to be so much more to my nieces and nephew.
• Spending meaningful one-on-one time with each of them has deepened our relationships.
• My "Auntie Emily Days" let each child enjoy personalized adventures based on their unique interests.

You know those TikToks about the childless, traveling aunt? The one who's somehow always at an airport, has a suspicious amount of money, occasionally shows up with gifts she definitely didn't need to buy (while carrying yet another new designer purse), and is never quite sure what time zone she's in? Yep, that's me.

For years, I happily embraced the stereotype. I'd swoop in for birthdays and holidays, always say yes to dessert (and extra dessert), create a little chaos, then head back to my own wonderfully independent life.

I assumed I understood the assignment. Bring the snacks. Buy the birthday presents. Show up to holidays with something fun tucked under my arm. Be loud, be silly, make them laugh, then hand them back to their parents when the day was over. It was the best kind of job. I got all the joy without much of the responsibility.

Or so I thought.

As my nieces and nephew got older, I realized something that surprised me: I wasn't really getting to know them as they were maturing into their own people. I had to ask their moms what they wanted for birthdays, or worse, I just bought out the toy section at Target and hoped something would stick. I also didn't know who they were when they didn't have to compete for attention or weren't trying to impress me with the farthest throw, the coolest dive into the pool, or the biggest burp. That's when "Auntie Emily Days" were born.

Their day reflects their personality

Rather than trying to squeeze meaningful time into crowded family gatherings, I started planning one-on-one adventures with each child — all seven of them.

Before we get together, they give me a guideline of what they want to do, and then I execute. Sometimes it's easy; dinner at The Melting Pot and a few hours spent at a cat café. Sometimes it's a bit more complicated with a sleepover at the Freehand (it has bunk beds!) and sightseeing in New York City.

Yes, I pull out all the stops I can, like ice skating at Wollman Rink and dinner at Bad Roman for one; an Oheka Castle lunch and manicure/pedicure with Starbucks for another; calling in a favor for on-field access for my nephew. Then each goes home with a little gift to remind them of the day.

But the itinerary is never really the point. The point is that each child gets a day built entirely around their interests. For a few uninterrupted hours, they don't have to compromise with a sibling or wait their turn. They feel seen, heard, and don't have to compete for attention. And that's when I started seeing parts of their personalities I might have otherwise missed.

They're different when they're one-on-one

While I have a firm grasp on all of their personalities, it was shocking to me how different they were one-on-one. Emma is the coolest kid and thankful for every experience, treating every moment as if it's the best she's ever had. Zoë can turn almost anything into a joke and somehow finds the fun walking through the most crowded street in New York. Jessica is analytical and technical, but away from her sisters, her wonderfully goofy sense of humor takes over. Jocelyn has a confidence and spunk that's impossible to ignore, yet she's remarkably intuitive. JJ is quieter than the rest, preferring to observe first and ask thoughtful questions later. Isabelle is sweet, demure, and quiet, and simply a joy to be around. And baby Isla is a force of nature I know I'm going to love hanging out with when she gets a bit older.

Without siblings or parents nearby, they open up completely. They tell me about school friendships, worries they haven't shared with anyone else, and things they're excited about. I may not run back and tell their parents everything, but it may give me a little sway over the Christmas list. It's amazing what children reveal when they feel like someone is listening only to them.

Connection isn't built at birthday parties

The biggest surprise wasn't how much I learned about them; it was how much they began trusting me.

I'm not their parent. I don't have to enforce bedtime, nag them to do homework, or beg them to get off their tablet. But I'm also not just the adult who appears a few times a year with presents.

Over time, they learned that our conversations stay between us unless they need my help. They've discovered that they can tell me about a bad day without worrying I'll immediately relay every detail to their parents. That doesn't mean I keep dangerous secrets. It means I respect them enough to let them own their stories. That trust changes everything and, I believe, will be vital as they age.

The moments that matter most stay with us

When I think back on our days together, it isn't always the tickets or the destinations that stand out. It's sharing French fries while they tell me their new favorite joke or something silly their sibling did. It is being absolutely frozen on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry staring at the Statue of Liberty because it was on our list. Or hearing an unfiltered opinion about school, extracurriculars, or something bothering them. It's watching them become confident enough to order for themselves at a restaurant — and then hearing they are doing that at home, too. It's nice when you realize a conversation we had in the car or a little encouragement during one of our adventures didn't end when I dropped them off.

For a long time, I assumed choosing not to have children meant I'd miss out on watching kids grow up. I couldn't have been more wrong. I get a front-row seat to their lives, just from a different seat. I get to celebrate their milestones, encourage their interests, answer the occasional hard question, and then, yes, send them home to their parents at the end of the day. It turns out that's exactly the role I was meant to have.

Showing up is more than just being around

I don't make every baseball game, I'm not in the audience for every cheer competition, I can't be there every Saturday. But now I know that the intentional time I had with each child carries a bigger weight than just showing up, saying hello, giving them a hug, and going home.

By carving out uninterrupted time with each child, I've been able to create something that doesn't happen naturally in the chaos of their family life, or in my own solo life.

Yes, I will always be the fun aunt, but instead of just "she was around," my intention has become "she showed up." I want them to remember having someone who listened without interrupting, who asked questions because she genuinely wanted to know the answer,; who made space for their interests, even when they weren't her own. Not someone who just said, "Sure, you can have another piece of cake, I don't care." (While still also allowing them to have more cake.)

• I've made it nearly 10 years into motherhood without telling my daughter a lie.
• I don't believe in white lies, even when telling the truth makes parenting harder.
• I think being honest has helped my daughter trust me and brought us closer together.

From where I stand, it seems like most parents lie to their kids, at least once in a while.

I am of the mindset that lying, whether to adults or to children, is wrong. Because I view it this way, I am uncomfortable with it and refuse to do it. My husband respects my stance, though he doesn't always follow suit and has told our child a handful of lies. But in the past decade since I became a mom, I have managed to avoid it.

I don't think I'm better than other parents, and I don't think anyone else is bad for harmless untruths. I just knew going into this that I wanted to approach parenting differently in a lot of ways, and this is just one of them.

Not lying doesn't equal to sharing every detail

This doesn't mean I divulge every secret. Kids don't need to know every detail about everything, even when they ask questions.

I was rather vague when she wondered why one of our relatives split up with her husband less than a year after the marriage, for example: "He did something really bad, and it hurt her a lot. She's not able to forgive him," I said, that was the end of the conversation.

I believe it is OK to keep some things a mystery indefinitely, to delay certain conversations or, when choosing to reveal things, to do so in an age-appropriate way (for example, where do babies come from?). But as far as not speaking any falsehoods, I have been consistent.

She asked me if Santa was real

I didn't tell her that Santa existed, but of course, as a toddler, she started believing through other friends, family, and Christmas marketing. I thought it was lovely and let her believe. Why spoil her fun?

But when she was a little older and asked me point blank if Santa was real, I replied in a curious tone "Hmmm, what do you think?" and instead it turned a situation where she started wondering aloud and trying to reason whether it was possible. I listened in the car, nodding along in the parent drop-off line at school. I also told her that a lot of people — including kids in her class — do believe in Santa, so it wouldn't be nice for their parents if she expressed her doubts to her peers. She agreed and went along to the classroom. Granted, I got lucky that it went in this direction. I was able to stay true to my "no direct lies" approach while not shattering a very magical childhood belief — one I remember fondly from my own youth.

And other common ones — like lying about a pet fish dying, or telling the truth when asked about a dinner ingredient, knowing there'd be resistance, or whether I remembered to do everything she asked of me — I don't lie about those either.

These were not always easy conversations (those situations alone resulted in her first lesson about death, her stubbornness to try some foods, and me disappointing her and admitting that "no sorry, I didn't babysit your stuffy while you were at school; I forgot this time.").

Honesty has brought us closer together

If she questions what I think of the makeup she did on my face, I enthusiastically compliment her creativity and say how fun it was to be in her makeover chair; I don't lie and say that the electric pink eyeshadow is the best color ever. I feel that it has built more trust between us and brought us closer. She knows that when she asks mommy something, I'm going to be straight up with her. She doesn't seem to doubt me or second-guess what I say.

As a parent, I understand that we are wired to protect our children. But with lying, I think parents are often trying to protect themselves. We want things to be easier, understandably. We want to say the place is closed instead of just telling the truth that we are just too tired to take them today. We want to tell our kid, "Yeah, the spider is gone now, honey," so they'll sleep well instead of saying that I actually have no idea where it went.

But avoiding discomfort is not a strong enough reason for me to lie to my daughter. It's not just that I believe lying is immoral; it's also about feeling that she deserves the truth. Plus, if honesty is one of the values that I'm trying to teach her, I want to set a good example by being honest with her.

• Ultra-processed foods are everywhere, but some additives are worse than others.
• Elizabeth Dunford is a nutrition epidemiologist who studies additives and health issues.
• She avoids two types of additives when she sees them on a food label.

Elizabeth Dunford isn't trying to make grocery shopping an impossible task.

Dunford is a nutrition epidemiologist who studies additives in ultra-processed foods and their impact on health.

It's not realistic to avoid packaged foods altogether, Dunford, who is based at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, told Business Insider. They make up around 70% of the US food supply.

So, she focuses on buying foods for her family that have a low "additive load" overall.

"I try and avoid things in general that have a lot of additives, but you can't avoid everything," said Dunford, who is a mom of two. "If you pick it up, you turn it over, and you don't recognize half the ingredients, it's probably not a good choice," she said.

She has taught her kids that eating enough vegetables, protein, and calcium will "keep their brains and bodies healthy," and that there's a time and a place for treats, but it's not good to have too many. "It is the everyday food and drink choices that really matter to me," Dunford said.

Ultra-processed foods contain ingredients you wouldn't find in a regular kitchen, like emulsifiers and thickening agents. They tend to be ultrapalatable, meaning they contain an irresistible combination of sugar, salt, and fat, and have long shelf lives. They can be anything from potato chips and soda to packaged bread and yogurt.

A diet high in this type of food has been linked to a higher risk of chronic diseases, including type two diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancer, and depression.

While she finds it unrealistic to cut out all additives, Dunford shared the two additives that she won't buy.

Synthetic dyes

Dunford avoids buying products that contain synthetic dyes for herself and her family. "I will allow it at a birthday party. That's about it. Day-to-day, they're not allowed in our house," she said.

The dyes, which are typically made from petroleum, are used to give food products colorful appearances. If you're looking out for them on a label, scan for a color and a number.

Dunford said that although the dyes are common in candy and junk foods, they can be used in anything from blueberry bagels to spinach wraps. Instead of avoiding any particular food, she checks labels to find a version without synthetic dyes.

"There are definitely enough alternatives out there that there is no need to buy products for my kids that contain synthetic dyes," she said.

Synthetic dyes are not proven to harm everyone who consumes them, but evidence suggests they can worsen hyperactivity or attention-related behavior in children who are sensitive to them. Dunford said her son is on the ADHD spectrum, and that she would notice a difference in his behavior when he had brightly colored foods.

"My son, like many kids his age on the ADHD spectrum, and I noticed he became horrible when he would have brightly colored foods," Dunford said.

In January 2025, the FDA banned Red Dye 3, a dye that gives foods like candy, frosting, and bacon a cherry red color, because it was linked to cancer in an animal study. It has not been found to cause cancer in humans, but has also been associated with behavioral issues in some children.

In April 2025, the FDA announced that it would be phasing out a number of other synthetic dyes, including Red 40, Green 3, Yellow 5, Yellow 6, Blue 1, and Blue 2.

Phosphate additives

Dunford tries to avoid buying products with phosphate additives such as phosphoric acid, dicalcium phosphate, tricalcium phosphate, disodium phosphate, sodium phosphate, and lecithin.

Studies suggest that phosphate-based additives are present in up to 56% of packaged foods in the US and that they raise blood phosphate levels more than the phosphate that naturally occurs in foods such as meat, seafood, and dairy. Soda, processed meats, and fast food all commonly contain phosphate additives, but they can also be used in everyday staples like yogurt and bread.

Dunford won't buy major culprits like soda at all, but for other products like yogurt, she makes sure to find versions without them.

"Children are getting really highly exposed to these additives and they can really cause a lot of problems with bone health, with kidney health," Dunford said.

The body needs phosphate, which is a mineral, for healthy bones, teeth, cells, and energy production. But too much phosphate in the blood can be harmful, especially for people with chronic kidney disease, whose kidneys are less able to remove excess phosphate.

Calcium and phosphate are both used to build bones, and the kidneys help keep their levels balanced in the bloodstream. When phosphate builds up, it can disrupt this balance and trigger hormonal changes, including higher levels of parathyroid hormone, a hormone that regulates calcium in the blood. Over time, this can cause calcium to be released from bones, weakening them.

Although studies suggest that phosphate additives can temporarily affect the phosphate-calcium balance in healthy people, more research is needed to understand if these ingredients can cause health issues over time. Regardless, Dunford prefers to err on the side of caution.

"You're not going to get it perfect. It's okay, but just take that extra step, look at the label," Dunford said.

• I spent years preparing my kids for college, but I overlooked some essential life skills.
• I never properly taught them to clean toilets, repay debts, or recognize health problems.
• Now I'm trying to fill those gaps and accept that parenting doesn't end when kids leave home.

Last week, a friend asked if I knew of any jobs for her recent graduate. Between his rigorous academic load, sports, and club activities that landed him in a prestigious university, he'd never held a job.

"My fail," she confessed.

My kids have had jobs, but I have parenting fails of my own. I'm concerned that, in the grand scheme of middle-class privileges, we forgot to teach our children some basic life skills: scrubbing bathrooms, repaying debts, and self-attunement.

I crammed as much as I could into the first 18 years of their lives, but juggling my small business while parenting didn't leave time for everything. I found myself tossing last-minute advice like grapes while driving each to their respective dorms: Carry your drinks with you at all times — even to the bathroom. Know where Student Health is located. Sit in the front rows; meet your professors. Skip the jugs of BORG.

We didn't teach them everything they need to survive, let alone thrive, but I'm hoping it's not too late to offer some guidance.

Cleaning their toilet

The bathroom might be the most inhospitable location in either of my sons' living quarters. The filth lurking below the interior rim is as confronting as the overspray of urine where the lid hinges.

To protect them from chemical toxins, I reflect that I never handed my kids a cleaning wand. They'd wiped down sinks, vacuumed, and washed clothes, but the toilet was off limits. Instead, I'd taken the plastic brush into my own hand or, worse, hired a housekeeper. It should have transitioned at some age, but between my own squeamishness about cleanliness and their protests at reaching inside the bowl, I failed.

I'm consoled that it appears statistically unlikely that anyone would catch a disease from their lack of sanitization, but in the interest of raising functional adults within accepted cultural parameters, I'm impressing upon them the virtues of hygiene and housekeeping as attractive to a future partner, while clamoring to provide motivation.

My kids had no fiscal responsibility

To teach financial awareness, my husband and I set up checking accounts and outlined budgets with our kids in their last year of high school. What we failed to do was teach them the importance of paying bills or repaying debt — imperative when adulting to secure credit, rent your own accommodations, and eventually live a fiscally independent life.

We felt like we were on the right path when our kid bought his first (used) Toyota Tacoma, and we helped by providing a partial private loan to make it possible. The idea was for him to pay us back in monthly installments, no matter how small, but that quickly fell by the wayside when he felt $20 too nominal a transaction to matter.

He eventually paid off the entire debt in a lump sum, and we blew off his breach of our contract, but when a second kid dismissed our financial agreement, I knew we'd made a mistake. It's a lesson worth reworking in the interest of said kids' futures — perhaps we should've enforced stricter consequences for non-payment or suggested a bank loan that has natural repercussions for non-compliance? Idk, but that's my hot tip.

I told them to 'read the room,' but also, they should read themselves

This broad term refers to an individual's ability to assess themself in their environment, mentally and physically. I'd always advised my kids to "read the room," but now I implore them to read themselves — better.

By the end of high school, I'd encouraged my kids to schedule their own doctor appointments but still played caregiver when advising them to stay home from school (with a fever) or insisting on their attendance (to avoid truancy). Collectively considered, I might have disabled their agency given that one of our kids landed in the emergency room after ignoring cold symptoms that manifested as chest pains in the middle of the night, his freshman year of college. Diagnosed with an acute case of pericarditis, his heart was stressed. He spent three harrowing nights in the hospital and continued with six months of follow-up as an outpatient; it was scary. I couldn't conceive how quickly an active young person's health had plummeted so drastically. "This must be super rare?" I asked the attending physician.

"Not really, it's a textbook response to strep throat," the doctor replied. Then, turning toward my kid, he asked, "Didn't your throat feel sore?"

"Not really."

Dropping our youngest child to start her college career on the opposite coast this fall, we kissed and hugged. "Have fun — these years are the best!" Then I added, "but it's normal to feel lonely at times. It's OK to be uncomfortable." I reminded her exactly what I probably needed to hear: "Discomfort breeds growth." And maybe that's how I'd reframe my embarrassing "fails" — as an opportunity for growth, because isn't that why we all went to college in the first place?