Parenting Through Hard Moments—And How It Has Made Me A Better Leader
What a difficult parenting moment reveals about trust, repair, and leadership
Taking in the sunset with my daughters in Canyonlands National Park
Over February break, my family went away for a long weekend. We booked a hotel with a pool, got tickets to a museum, and lined up plenty of kid-friendly meals. We planned a great trip. But at every turn, my children complained.
“This is what they have to eat?”
“Why do we always have to wait?”
“Another art museum? Art museums are boring.”
“Why isn’t our room ready yet?”
The complaints were age-appropriate—but unrelenting. I was handling it well, I thought, until the last hour of the trip.
We brought both kids to the hotel pool for one final stretch of fun. They were in the hot tub when I gave the usual countdown: 20 minutes, then 5, then 2. When time was up, they were upset and refused to get out. I understood—they were having fun. But the way they spoke to us wasn’t okay.
And they did it loudly in front of a full audience of other people in the pool area–which, if you’re a parent, you know, is its own special kind of pressure. Eventually, we got them out. Back in the hotel room, they were still “spicy.” That’s when I lost it.
They were dysregulated. I was dysregulated. I was angry, but I didn’t want to cross into shaming or blaming. I didn’t want to make them responsible for my reaction.
So instead, I yelled:
“I don’t like this. I’m angry. I feel like I’m being treated unfairly.”
It wasn’t perfect. My voice was loud. My energy was intense. My eyes had daggers. I could see I scared them.
In that moment, I could feel how easy it would have been to fall back on how I was parented - with name-calling or shaming. Yes, their behavior was very frustrating. But my intensity was outsized - I knew it.
When I looked inward, I realized I felt embarrassed. Standing there while they refused to get out of the hot tub, I wondered what other adults thought of me, of my kids, of my parenting style. I was also tapped out from staying grounded with all the complaints throughout the trip. I didn’t yell at them at the pool - I channeled Dr. Becky’s helpful mantra: “My kids aren’t giving me a hard time, they are having a hard time.” But I didn’t like how I yelled at them once we were back in the hotel room. Oof - parenting is hard.
Connection after Conflict
On the drive home, instead of moving on, we talked it through.
We asked the kids what happened from their perspective. They thought they had more time left in the hot tub. They thought we were being unfair.
I shared our perspective: We tried to plan a fun weekend and give them time to enjoy it, but we were met with many complaints throughout the trip, and with rudeness and resistance when asked to get ready to head home.
I also apologized for my reaction, but not for my feelings:
“Wow. I was really mad. That was me having a hard time regulating. I’m sorry I yelled—I can see that was scary. And I’m allowed to feel angry, and I didn’t like how I showed my anger.”
As things settled, we talked about who we are becoming as a family and how we want to handle hard moments. We talked about how we communicate, especially when we're frustrated, and how it affects others.
My husband and I talked about how, as parents, we have so much space for all their behaviors and emotions as they learn and grow. And we talked about in our non-parenting roles, we choose the people we spend time with, and that someone who always complains or speaks to us unkindly is not someone we choose to hang out with. We explained to the kids that we encourage disagreement, but how we disagree matters. If we are unkind or disrespectful, our message won't land, and it will limit our opportunities for further connection.
In hindsight, I can see that moment as skilled, imperfect leadership under pressure.
So what does this have to do with leadership at work?
Being a parent is all about leadership. It may not be clear in the small moments of every day–prepping school lunches, planning playdates (so many playdates!), making sure homework gets done before bedtime–but I’ve learned, through trial and error, that to be a good parent is to be a good leader. Most importantly, being a parent has forced me to slow down in my interactions and think about all of my relationships as long-lasting. Parenting is not just about what’s happening today, it's about nurturing who my children are becoming and building who we are becoming together.
There are moments in life where we simply do not have the energy to give feedback in real time. Sometimes, we can’t even articulate what’s bothering us, so we let it go. Time passes, and we’re in a better mood. Things feel fine again and we never bring up what was bothering us. But the truth is these issues will rear their heads again. And when they do, because they have been festering, they will be bigger, more charged, and more impactful. Everyone, not just the two people involved, will feel the pressure.
In organizations, it’s rarely just about the hot tub.There are small moments of tension that build up upon each other until finally, there’s an avalanche. In those moments, leaders have a choice. Do they label this person as difficult and write them off for future growth? Or do you stop to consider that this person is a good employee who is having a hard moment? Parenting forced me to confront this palpable tension. I want my children to know I have their best interests at heart, even when I am frustrated. I want them to know that they can trust me to hear them and really consider their feelings. And I want them to know we are a team, no matter what.
Timing and Emotional Regulation
I once handed my child (who was two at the time) a blue crayon that turned out to be the wrong blue. She fell to the floor in tears. My adult brain wanted to say, “It's not a big deal. It's still blue.” But from my child’s perspective, it was a big deal. They didn’t have the tools to regulate their disappointment beyond breaking down.
In these moments, I learned to sit on the floor with my kids and, with real concern, say, “This isn’t what you were expecting. That’s frustrating. I also struggle when things don’t turn out the way I thought they would.” I can see their nervous system start to settle.
Then, I redirect. “Even though it's not the color you hoped for, do you think you could still make something cool with it? Or, should we look for another crayon together?” Nine times out of ten, they calm down and move forward, not because the problem was solved, but because they felt seen.
Leadership in a work setting works the same way.
I had a staff member who would get overwhelmed with their workload and fall behind on projects. The more they fell behind, the harder it became to move forward. Their stress hijacked their executive function, leaving shame and fear to drive the bus.
There was a part of me that wanted to say, “You’ve had plenty of time. Why can’t you turn things in on time?” But I knew that would add to the stifling stress. So, I leaned on my parenting principle: connect, then redirect.
I’d watch their shoulders drop as I said, “You look overwhelmed. That feeling of being behind is awful.” Then, I’d redirect to supporting the workload. We’d list out their tasks on a whiteboard and note what items were most time-sensitive. We’d pick an easy win to build momentum. And I’d check back in to cross things off and build traction.
Once we were no longer in crisis mode, I brought a system to them: Code Yellow. I never want to first hear about a problem when it's Code Red. By that point, the wheels have fallen off and the car is in a ditch. It's hard to recover. If they come to me at Code Yellow, when things are starting to feel a little wobbly, I can help them pause, adjust, redistribute support, and prevent crisis.
This system worked well for us, but it wouldn’t have landed with my staff member if I brought it up when they were already flooded. By circling back to remedy the problem when things had passed, I showed my staff that I have their best interest in mind and that I want to support their success.
Physical Posture
As a leader, physical posture matters. When I face challenges with my children, as with the blue crayon incident, I try to see them eye to eye. If they’re on the floor, I get on the floor too.
Working in an office with cubicles presents its own physical dynamics. It's easy to walk up to someone’s cubicle and stand over them to discuss a concern while they sit in their office chair. This, unintentionally or not, communicates hierarchy and dominance, which is not conducive to true connection and collaboration.
Instead, I would sit on the floor and lean against my colleagues' cubicle wall to discuss issues. Saying something like “Can we talk about that email again? I think we’re not aligned and I want to understand your thinking,” from a casual seating position feels like genuine interest in problem-solving, whereas the same sentence could feel like reprimanding from a standing position.
Just shifting my physical level changes the tone of my conversations, with my children and my team members. I can disrupt power dynamics and signal partnership just by sitting down.
The Relationship Is the Work
When people feel safe to bring concerns to you, you build relationships, and you prevent tension that infects the culture of the entire organization. Whether it’s with our kids or our staff, we’re not just solving today’s problem. We’re building a pattern of how we handle hard things together.
I don’t just want my staff to succeed in their roles here. I want them to succeed in their lives.. I want them to look back and say, “I grew there. I was challenged there. I was respected there.”
That doesn’t happen by accident. The long-term framing of how we treat each other matters.
It matters with my kids, too. If I interact with them from a purely authoritarian place — I’m the adult, I know better, my analytical brain gets to determine what’s important and what isn’t in your body — I might get short-term compliance. But I am setting us up for one of two outcomes: either a painful transition when they become adults and we have to renegotiate power, or artificial harmony.
Artificial harmony is the politeness that covers disconnection. It’s the unresolved tension that lingers underneath “everything’s fine.” I’ve seen it in my family of origin. I’ve seen it in organizations.If conflict is suppressed instead of worked through, you are establishing distance as the norm from the beginning, and that will carry through the rest of your working relationships.
If we practice checking in, connecting, redirecting, repairing, and setting expectations, we build a relationship that can stretch as people grow. That is the kind of relationships I want in my life—with my kids, with my spouse, with my staff, and with clients. When you lead this way people can leave organizations and you stay connected. You work together again in different capacities. You meet each other in new seasons of life. The relationship evolves instead of fractures.
Being a parent has forced me to slow down in my interactions and think about all of my relationships as long-lasting. I ask myself, “What needs to be taught here?” “What boundary do I need to reinforce?” and “How do we repair this disconnection and move forward?” And I remind myself that to be a good leader, I need to remember that behavior is skill development, not malicious, and that I am capable of holding my boundaries and holding people accountable while acting with empathy. Leadership isn’t about winning the moment–it’s about building the relationship.
Post-Script
I just got back from April break - a 10-day camper van trip through national parks with my family—it was AWESOME.
Early on in the trip, we needed to revisited the complaining conversation we had back in February. We had shared language to manage disappointment and build resilience as we drove over 1,300 miles through 3 states in 9 days. We had more tools to rely on, and I credit what we learned from that “hot tub moment” with helping make this trip as enjoyable as it was.
Here is a picture of us at Bryce Canyon National Park.
