No One Prepares You for the Moment Your Kid Gets Cut—Here’s What I Learned as a Coach

Trying out for anything can be a lot. Not just the routine. Or the performance. But the whole damn thing.

The pressure. The possibility of not making it. The fear that the outcome means something about who you are.

I wasn’t a kid who tried out for things. (No, hockey cheerleading does not count. 😆)
But really I didn’t grow up doing anything competitive.

So watching my kids put themselves out there—knowing it might end in rejection—has cracked me wide open. I never had to walk into school and say, "I didn’t make it." (Or, "I made it, but I sit the bench." IYKYK.)

I couldn’t have had these kinds of conversations with my kids before coaching came Into my life. I wouldn’t have known how to help them separate who they are from the outcome they got. (Side note: one of them is better at this than the other…)

Old me would’ve tried to fix it fast.
Deflect. Distract. Cheer them up.
Not because I didn’t care—I just thought that was the "right" thing to do.

Now?
I let them feel it.
The disappointment. The sadness. The frustration.
I don’t rush it.
I let the emotion come up, because it needs somewhere to go.

And when they’re ready, I ask: What do you want to do with this?

Let’s talk about Maren.
She tried out for the middle school dance team. 25 girls. 20 made it. She didn’t.

I was at my girlfriend’s house when we found out, my first instinct was to run home (Aaron was with her) but I’m glad I didn’t. I had time to process MY emotions so that when I got home, I could help her do the same.

When I got home, I found her in her room. I sat down beside her and I asked her what she needed.
A hug? A good cry? To talk?

She needed it all. And I was able to hold space for her.

Then she said, “Everyone’s going to ask tomorrow.”

I told her: "You can say, 'I’d rather not talk about it.' That’s a full sentence too."

She told me she didn’t know some of the moves, so she just stood there.

I told her to keep in mind, we had some specific moves they said they’d evaluate during tryouts, but we didn’t know how precisely she’d need to know them—or how much technique mattered. (That context helped soften the sting a bit.)

We talked about how she was also learning a complex dance in a short amount of time.
It was her first tryout, and we honestly had no idea what to expect.

It was a learning experience. A lesson. That’s it.

I told her something I wish I’d heard at her age: No doesn’t mean no forever. It just means not right now.

Now we have information. And we get to decide what to do with it.

Does she want to try again next year? What would help her feel ready? More classes? Private lessons?
Or maybe she gives it some time and decides later.

I reminded her: This doesn’t define her.
It’s just a moment.
A moment that feels big now—and teaches you how to stand back up.

And honestly? That’s a skill a lot of adults are still learning.

How many of us still think a "no" means we’re not good enough? How often do we turn a setback into a full-blown self-worth spiral?

This is why coaching changed everything for me. It gave me the tools to sit with hard emotions, ask better questions, and stop tying my worth to outcomes.

And now I get to teach that to my kids, too.

No one gives you a manual for this part of motherhood. These moments aren’t easy—but they’re where so much growth happens. For them. For us. And we don’t have to get it perfect to show up with love.

To every mom navigating moments like this—where your heart breaks right alongside theirs—I see you. And you’re doing better than you think.

This wasn’t her tryout dance - this was a dance she was creating this morning in our gym at home, but I had to share it. Something about it brought me to tears.

The Biggest Myth About Coaching: Your Coach Will Judge You for Not Doing the Work

Me stalking my clients social media when they go silent. LOL.

Recently I did a post on why we stop showing up for ourselves (read it here)—but today is about why clients often stop showing up for coaching.

Some of the same things apply—change is hard, resistance shows up fast, and comfort feels safer than the unknown. But here’s something I see all the time:

Clients go quiet because they think they’ve failed.

They assume they need to “get it together” before showing up. That their coach will be disappointed. That they have to earn their spot back by doing the work first.

But here’s the truth: that’s the biggest myth out there.

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Why You Need to Show Up (Even When You Feel Like You’ve Failed)

• Your Coach Isn’t Judging You—They’re There to Support You – You didn’t hire a coach to get a gold star. You hired them to help you figure out what’s getting in your way. A session where you didn’t follow through is just as important (if not more) than one where you did.

• The Work Is in the Struggle – Coaching isn’t about having it all together. It’s about learning to navigate the moments when you don’t. That’s where your old patterns get exposed—and where real growth starts.

• Avoiding It Reinforces Old Habits – When you ghost your coach, you’re strengthening the habit of hiding when things get hard. When you show up anyway? You prove to yourself that you can face things without shame.

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How Coaching Helps You Move Through It

1. Helps You See the Real Roadblocks – Not doing the thing doesn’t mean you failed. It means something deeper is going on. Coaching helps you uncover it.

2. Gives You Tools You Can Actually Use – Real progress happens when you understand why you didn’t follow through and learn a new way to approach it.

3. Keeps You Connected to the Bigger Picture – When you’re in your head, it’s easy to spiral. A coach pulls you back to what matters and helps you reset without shame.

So if you’ve been dodging your next session because you didn’t do what you said you would—this is your sign: Show up anyway.

You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be present. That’s where the change happens.

The Relationship-Saving Skill My Husband Showed Me (That I Wish I’d Learned Sooner)

I didn’t grow up hearing the words rupture and repair—but now that I understand what they mean, I can’t unsee how powerful they are.

Rupture: Those moments when something’s off—tension, disconnection, harsh words, slammed doors. The vibe shifts. And while it might feel like everything’s falling apart in the moment, rupture happens. It is human. It’s what we do after that matters most.

Repair: There’s something powerful about repair—and I don’t just mean teaching it to our kids. I mean modeling it. Living it. Owning our humanness in front of them so they know it’s safe to be human, too.

I can't say the start of this process in our home was me—it was Aaron. As he was working on his emotional regulation, he learned that outbursts are still bound to happen, but he could still take action to repair the situation—something NEITHER of us ever did in the past nor even knew was a thing. (We are over here undoing years of parenting in the only way we knew how, and now that we know better, we’re doing our damndest to do better. Still messy. Still human. Definitely not perfect.)

One of the things Aaron realized—and helped us all start to understand—is that we don’t have to just "let it blow over." That old idea of sweeping it under the rug and pretending it didn’t happen? It doesn’t work. What does work is coming back together, owning what happened, and choosing to repair instead of ignore.

Things to consider:
-If you're not in a place where you're ready to admit that you didn't like how you showed up—like saying, "I was wrong"—then you're just not there yet. You have to be able to take ownership.

-It would be nice if we could always correct our kids without losing our shit—but for a lot of us, that just isn’t available emotionally in the moment. And that’s part of our work. (i.e. learning to regulate your own emotions..our kids aren’t responsible for our emotions, we are - I’ll share more on this at a later date, don’t you worry)

-You can still correct your kids—because you're the parent—you’re even allowed (and expected) to guide them. But delivery matters, so when you do it from an activated or reactive place, that where the rupture happens.

-In those times when you do lose your shit (because yep, it’ll still happen), take the time to calm down, then come back and own it. You can acknowledge what happened on both sides and name what needs to change. That’s the repair.

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ANYWAY…

The whole reason I started this post is that the other night, my son was spicy. He said something that rubbed me the wrong way, and I told him—gently but honestly—how it landed. I also let him know I needed a minute to process it. Later that night, he came to me. He explained what he really meant, why he said it, and that it didn’t come out the way he intended. And even said he was sorry.

That moment hit me—not because he was perfect or handled it flawlessly. But because he came back. He took ownership. He repaired. And I wish I could say he learned that trick from me, but his dad has shown him the power of repair. Aaron has honestly been way better at this than me—he’s been modeling it for longer, and it’s something I’m still learning. My first repair with Mason, I sent via text message. #momoftheyear

But it was better than sweeping it under the rug. Work in progress over here, for sure.

A few weeks ago, we had another moment like this. We both lost our cool. Aaron was traveling, emotions were high, stomachs were empty, voices were raised, and it wasn’t our finest moment. But later that night, we both apologized. We both acknowledged that we didn’t like how we showed up in that moment. We explained how each of us was feeling that caused our reactions - we took ownership - “it wasn’t you, it was me and I’m sorry I acted that way.”

That’s not something I saw modeled growing up. My parents yelled, but I don't remember either of them ever apologizing. (This is to no fault of their own—they likely parented the way their parents did.)

For a long time, I believed that when I yelled at my kids, I was a shitty parent and I was completely screwing them up. So I just lived with mom guilt and shame of not being able to go back and get a do-over with my kids. Which by the way, when we constantly live with these thoughts and feelings - they create more of what we DON’T want to do as a parent - but that is another blog, another time.

I didn’t realize two really important things: 1) I could learn how to better manage my emotions, and 2) I could repair. I thought once you lost it, the damage was done. I had no idea that going back to own it could be part of the process, too.

It’s not about being perfect! It’s about what you do after.

I don’t want my son (or daughter) thinking love means never getting upset. Or that strong relationships are the ones where no one ever says the wrong thing. That’s not real life. Real relationships have friction. People get it wrong. Emotions take over. And the most important part isn’t being flawless—it’s being willing to go back, take ownership, and try again.

That’s what we want to normalize.

I want both kids to know that it’s okay to be human. That repair matters more than perfection. That circling back and saying, “Hey, that didn’t feel good, and I want to make it right,” is strength—not weakness.

Because if we don’t show our kids how to apologize, how to own their mess, how to come back to the table… then how will they ever feel safe to do it themselves?

Repair starts with us. Not because we’re trying to be the perfect parent. But because we’re working on being the human one.

Also, this whole concept of rupture and repair? We didn’t invent it. It’s not some magical parenting tool we dreamed up one night. It’s been around. We just never learned it. Or had the emotional capacity to use it. Until now. And it would be selfish of me not to share how it has positively impacted our home - not just with the kids but also in our marriage.

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PS - Repair isn’t an excuse to keep yelling and apologizing on loop. At some point, the cycle has to shift. That’s where emotional regulation work comes in. We can’t just rely on repair to clean up our messes—we have to also work on making fewer messes in the first place. Not from perfection, but from growth.

The goal isn’t to never mess up again. The goal is to mess up less often, and repair more consistently when we do.

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The Thought That’s Quietly Sabotaging Your Eating Habits (and What to Do Instead)

You know those moments when you feel like you should have more control around food?

And you say things like,
“Why can’t I just stop eating once I’m full?”
”I knew I wasn’t hungry, but I ate it anyway… what’s wrong with me?”

Those might sound like harmless questions, but underneath them is one thought I hear from women all the time—

“I have no self-control.”

And it sounds like the truth.
Except that thought? It’s not motivating you.
It’s sabotaging you.

Why This Thought Is So Damaging

When you tell yourself “I have no self-control,” here’s what happens:

• You feel defeated before you even begin

• You spiral after one snack or choice that didn’t go as planned

• You stop trusting yourself

• You prove yourself right—over and over again

That thought becomes your identity… and the cycle continues.

What If You Got Curious Instead?

Instead of labeling yourself, try asking:

• What was I feeling before I ate that?

• Was I actually hungry—or just tired, stressed, or overwhelmed?

• What do I actually need right now?

That’s where everything shifts.
Because when you move from judgment to curiosity, you create space for something new.

New thoughts like:

• “I’m learning to trust myself around food.”

• “I’m figuring out what actually feels good for me.”

Not just fluffy affirmations—but actual thoughts that build self-trust, one choice at a time.

This Is the Work I Do With My Clients
A lot of women don’t even realize how powerful their thoughts are, around anything, not just food.
They think they need more willpower, a new plan, better discipline or are just stuck, in general.

But the truth is—your thoughts are the root of your results.

This is why I coach the way I do. We slow it down.
We get curious. And we shift the thoughts that are keeping you stuck so you can actually build something sustainable.

So next time your brain wants to throw out “I have no self-control”—pause.

That’s not the truth. That’s just an old thought.

And you don’t have to keep believing it.

Ready to change the story you’re living in? I’ve got a few coaching spots open—click here to learn more.

You're Just One Scribble Away from Shifting Your Story

I like to think I’ve gotten pretty good at challenging my 'I can’t' thoughts... but this one snuck right past me.

I’m currently in a coaching container where we’re working on expanding our capacity, and I had a mini ah-ha moment this morning — a breakthrough, if you will. Here is what I shared with them:

I’ve been thinking a lot about capacity* lately — what I believe I can handle, what I think I’m capable of, & where I quietly tell myself, 'I can’t.'

A few weeks ago at Epcot (during the Festival of the Arts), my daughter wanted to go to an Animation Academy presentation. I hesitated — I actually almost just watched — but the cast members (and Maren, my mini me) convinced me to grab a pencil and a blank piece of paper.

We sat down, and all I could think was,
"I can’t draw."
"There’s no way I can do this."

(Now I can see — that was just an old story I’d been telling myself.)

I texted my husband and friend saying, “This is going to be a hot mess...”

Even as the artist walked us through it — my brain kept saying, “No way this is gonna be Goofy...”

Yep, I kept doubting myself — even when the drawing was literally coming together in front of me.

Isn’t it wild how doubt shows up — even when you’re already proving yourself wrong?

But then... it did come together.

And the pride I felt in myself? Honestly, I hadn’t felt that in a long time.

Fast forward to this morning — I was walking on my walking pad when I glanced over and saw my Goofy drawing hanging in my office. And it hit me…

I walked into that room with zero belief in my ability to draw. I had no capacity for it.

But here’s the thing...

• I built the capacity by sitting down, starting, and trusting the process.

• I didn’t have to believe I could do it or know how — I just had to follow the next step.

• With that decision to try, I expanded my capacity & shifted my story.

And now? I know that if I really wanted to learn how to draw, I could. The capacity is there — I just hadn’t tapped into it yet.

Here’s what I want you to know:

• You don’t have to fully believe in yourself to begin — you just have to start.

• Change the story and take action as if you’re already that person.

• Sometimes you don’t realize how capable you are until you look back and think, “Wait... I did that?”

A ‘Lil assignment for ya:

Let’s start with the fun one:

• Can you look back and think of something you once thought, "No way..." — but now you’re like, "Wait... I DID that!"

Now, let’s see where that story might be holding you back right now:

• Where are you stuck in the story of "I can’t..."?

• Where have you decided, "I’m just not someone who..."?

• Where are you limiting your capacity before giving yourself a chance to see what’s possible?

Notice the story — then challenge it.

Trust yourself enough to start, even when you’re convinced you can’t pull it off. That’s what expanding capacity (& shifting your story) is really about.

You don’t have to feel ready — you just have to be willing to give yourself a chance to surprise yourself.

And honestly? I def surprised myself — my Goofy is f’n good. 😂👏🏼

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*CAPACITY: Your potential to handle, learn, or achieve something — even if you haven’t tapped into it yet.
It’s not about what you already know or believe you can do — it’s about what you’re capable of building through practice, effort, & experience.