There’s something about March that always feels like a cautious little exhale. Not the cinematic, slow-motion kind where everything suddenly bursts into color and woodland creatures gather to applaud your emotional growth. No, March is subtler than that. It’s more like stepping outside and thinking, “Wait… is the air slightly less offensive?” Spring doesn’t kick the door down. It sort of sneaks in politely, like it doesn’t want to make a big deal about itself. Which, honestly

I used to think self-esteem was something you either had or didn’t, like good eyesight or the ability to do math without sweating or swearing (or sometimes both). Some kids just came with it. Others, well, they did not. Turns out, that was a lie. A very persistent, very unhelpful lie. What I know now, after years of working with kids, families, schools, and my own very human inner critic (who is EXTREMELY loud!) is this: self-esteem is built. Slowly. Clumsily. In tiny moments

Every year, January rolls in like that overconfident friend who insists, “This year I’m finally getting my life together,”  while standing in your kitchen wearing pajama pants from 2004, eating cold leftovers straight from the container, and debating whether they should text their ex. (Spoiler: they should not!) Meanwhile, the rest of us are surveying a wrecked living room, a fridge full of leftovers that may or may not qualify as science projects, and a list of resolutions w

There’s a picture of my mom I keep coming back to-she’s smiling broadly at the camera while my little niece runs past her. My mom smiled with her whole face- it was big, warm, and always genuine. It’s not a Christmas photo, but somehow it feels like one. Every December, when the lights go up and the world leans into warmth and togetherness, that picture finds its way back to me. She passed away eleven days before Christmas, and ever since, the season has held both a soft glow