Join the Club

We were at Sesame Place, sitting in the theater, watching the Mr. Noodle/Elmo show. My daughter was six, shy, soft-cheeked, and uncertain about things that involved bright lights and an audience. When Mr. Noodle scanned the crowd for a helper and pointed at her, she immediately buried her head in my armpit. He paused. The moment hung there, an invitation slowly slipping away as his hand drifted toward another child. Something in me knew: this was one of those moments. The kin

My daughter was auditioning for the Spring High School Musical. The schedule was clear: acting and singing one afternoon, the dance audition two days later. Easy enough to remember. The morning of the dance audition, I casually reminded her. She rolled her eyes with a very teenage, “I KNOWWWWW.” (Translation: Mom, please, I am fully competent and also deeply annoyed you believe otherwise.) That afternoon, my phone rang at work. Hysterical sobbing. She had gotten on the bus on

Every parent has done it. A tiny, harmless, completely survivable white lie you toss into the universe because (let’s be honest) you’re tired, you’re done, and the request your child just made requires more energy than your soul currently has left in stock. Ours happened this week. She asked if we could go out for hibachi. My hair was barely holding on. I had already put on pajama pants. We gave each other a look. My husband said the first low-effort, not-technically-wrong

There’s a photo I snapped on Saturday that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s of my daughter standing at the edge of the gym floor, eyes fixed on her teammate who was out there performing her routine. It’s not the twirling, the costumes, or the lights that stand out in the picture; it’s her face. She looks happy. Proud. Deeply caring. The kind of expression you can’t stage or rehearse. The kind that emerges only when someone you love is out there giving everything they’ve got.

Every now and then, I stumble on thoughts, moments, and stories that don’t quite fit into my professional blog categories. They aren't polished enough for a leadership post, structured enough for a workshop idea, or tidy enough to tuck into a Mindful Monday or Thoughtful Thursday. This space, Unscripted, is where they’ll live. Unscheduled, unplanned, and honest. When an idea shows up, I’ll explore it here. I'll share when life offers a small lesson or a surprising moment. No