November is almost gone and the nation is licking its wounds (or celebrating depending on who you talk to). The toxic othering of the other is on full display across my feed. I need the snark and contempt to stop so I’m hiding by listening to my favorite chill Christmas song by Ben Abraham.

Shout out to Halloween for consistently delivering the expectation of anarchy. A chill in the air warns of the potential for mayhem. Perfect conditions for the Spicy One.

Growing up in Catholic school, I was warned by superstitious friends that Halloween - and the day after: All Souls Day - were times of crossover from the realm of the dead. Beware if you stay out past midnight. The boundary between the living and the dead can blur.

Halloween is the one time Normies, and Freaks like me, can engage in cosplay without judgment. I relished twisting my ashen face into a scowl and locking eyes with little people who quickly scurried away. I was frightening. I loved the power it gave me.

Does your Spicy One like to scare people? What do you think makes it so pleasurable for them? I have my theories. The most obvious is that it meets our sensory seeking and dopamine needs. Fireworks go off in my brain when I impact someone enough to create an involuntary response (be that laughter or a scream) from their body. Scaring someone gives me the same high as creating or destroying something. Like I’m capable of magic.

Mostly I, the mother, had to create environments and daily rhythms that helped me be Okay with the front seat I occupied on my vibrant child full frontal exuberance.

At an outdoor concert this summer, Tyler Childers played my daughter’s favorite song All Your’n. She squealed with excitement, her left arm carelessly draped over my shoulder. I knew I was supposed to return the embrace, but how exactly? If only I could Google it. I matched her body posture and swung my right arm across her back and right shoulder. We swayed and sang. I looked straight ahead, breath held as my 19-year-old shouted the words into the night. I loved it. It was awkward. I wanted it to stop and to please never end. Walking back to the car, she complained, “you didn't look at me the entire song.” Dang! I didn't know that was also part of the correct touch recipe. (Click here for help to not take your teen’s frustration personally).

Humans need connection and a sense of belonging – to know on a deep level that nothing we can do could ever remove our parents' love for us.

And as your Spicy One shines with the intensity of a thousand suns, you’ve probably started to notice some inherent contradictions in their nature.

I want to assure you that this sort of duplicity -- while maddening at times, to be sure, is also quite normal.

You could say it’s par for the course.

And after spending a week with my parents at their Park City vacation home, I was reminded of all the old stories.

My mom's evidence of what she calls a “willingness for mayhem” shines a light — not on one particularly difficult child, but on a mother and daughter struggling to find their way.

One of her favorite tales to tell took place when I was four. We were stationed in Landstuhl, Germany, and took weekend excursions often. This time we were headed to a small town in France.

As the story goes, I was very much looking forward to being in France, what I assumed must be the home of my favorite food, French fries.

We were about to leave for our annual family road trip to Park City, Utah from L.A.

With the Spicy One flown to college and her Mild Child sibling cranking out college applications, it suddenly occurred to me that this would likely be our Last Family Road Trip.

As we piled into the car, I said it out loud.

Everyone immediately denied it, but the pit in my stomach and the tear in my hubby’s eye confirmed it.

This would be the grand finale of our family car trips.

Earlier this week, my husband came in the door excited to ask about my day. So sweet, right?

I was in deep focus mode, so in response, I put my hand up and yelled, “Stop! I’m in the middle of something!”

Task switching is not my forté (have I mentioned I have ADHD?!), and I was annoyed I'd been interrupted.

He was understandably hurt. I hadn't welcomed him home with open arms like I normally would.

Since we're both adults, we know that our needs and experiences both matter and we can work through the stressful emotions together.

But when relational hiccups happen between us and our kids, we're the only adults in the situation -- so it's our job to be the emotional anchor (yay!).

And that takes hard work and preparation on our part!

When I arrived home from four days of camping on Sunday, dusty and stinky, my husband naively asked for the highlights.

As I stepped into the shower, I beamed, “besides the fact that I bravely pooped – not once, but three times in the woods?”

(I’m a Spicy One. We are rejuvenated by surviving hardships and novelty.)

“Yes – besides that,” he replied, amused. His weirdo was home again. (That’s me!)

“Oh, all the playfulness! Definitely! No Wi-Fi. No deadlines. No emails. Just 45 humans hanging out in a temporary tent village without stress. We were all so playful.”

It’s round three (ding!) of our Summer Screentime Series!

→ We’ve talked about noticing why you might allow more screen time than you want to. (Typically for mom-breaks or to avoid meltdowns when it’s time to turn them off.)

→ I’ve shared what’s developmentally recommended for each age and stage.

As a young Spicy One I very much wanted magic to be real. At the age of nine, the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis ignited my belief that there were indeed fantastical beings like centaurs and dwarfs living in a faraway forest. I convinced myself there was a secret world just beyond the old door leaning against our attic wall, but due to the summer heat in Maryland, I could never reach it without fainting!

Spicy Ones don’t want to be told what to do. And we certainly don’t like hearing the word no.

(WE JUST DON’T, OKAY??)

Like my friend’s five-year-old son — he was so sure his mom would turn down his wish to show his friend an iPad game that he cleverly disguised his real ask inside a request for cuddles.

“Momma, can you snuggle me on the couch? While I show Miles my video game?”

One consistent heartache I hear from moms is the creepy-crawly guilt they feel when they think about all the screen time their kids are getting -- especially over the summer.

Are you feeling this, too??

First, let's cultivate some self-compassion. We live in an increasingly disconnected society where there simply isn’t enough support to go around. Screens can feel like a lifeline.

Are you or your Spicy OneⓇ an HSP?

This stands for Heightened Sensory Perceptor and was coined by Louve Henning as a kinder substitution for the original acronym (which stood for Highly Sensitive Person).

As an HSP, moving through a huge city can be exhaustingly stimulating. Less “vacation” and more “trip.”

I saw the new Inside Out movie! (Don’t worry – no spoilers here.)

It was so good! And I wanna talk about it – so I’m pushing our juicy screen time discussions to next week.

First off, I think the movie is best suited for 10+ (often a good rule of thumb for age-appropriateness is the age of the protagonist – main character Riley is entering puberty in this one). I do think some slightly younger kids could handle it with your help unpacking the themes.

Imagine knowing someone’s deepest, darkest secrets, the exact word or phrase that could send them spiraling.

Now pretend you also have an underdeveloped brain and therefore struggle with emotional regulation and self-control.

Kind of a recipe for disaster, no? Siblings, man!

Let’s be real – summer schedules can be a total cluster truck.

When it comes to wrangling kids over the summer, regardless of whether you work outside the home or exclusively inside it, we’re probably all a little too nostalgic about these long summer days.

Emotions make us do odd things.

Like the other day, when I hid in a parking lot outside a cafe to watch my youngest pour coffee at his very first job ever.

What a thrilling thing to see him holding boiling liquid over unsuspecting patrons! They have no idea this guy’s never poured coffee before in his life.