0:04
Sunday Scroll #149
I’m back from a few days at the Ritz‑Carleton on Lake Oconee, where the kids and I spent the afternoons in the infinity pool, made endless s’mores, and even took a pizza‑making class with Chef Loris. Coming home feels nice, especially now that a bit of routine is slipping back into place and I’m catching up with friends who’ve missed us.
I loved Grace’s description of the pure joy you get when you meet a new adult friend, and I ran into a list of 54 super‑specific ways to be a good friend—think remembering coffee orders, putting the phone down to listen, and actually watching the TikToks they send. I also bookmarked a “22 Books That Made My Life Feel Bigger” list for when I need a reading boost.
On the tech side, I’m still wrestling with the fast pace of AI, but a hopeful piece reminded me that its value is measured by real‑world impact: farmers spotting crop disease with a phone photo, nurses getting step‑by‑step guides in their pockets. It’s a good reminder to keep the focus on improving lives.
A few quick product notes: the viral barrel‑leg jeans finally lived up to the hype for my shorter frame, silk pillowcases turned our bed into a little luxury upgrade, and I’m loving a new sunscreen, eye cream, and a drugstore mousse that actually works. I’m also drafting a “unfortunately worth it” list of the pricey or inconvenient things that have earned a spot in my routine. Drop your own confessions in the comments, and next week we’ll swap more lists.
0:42
SNEAK PEEK! The TWO Lunches I Packed for My Toddler This Week🍴
I hear you—toddler lunch time can feel like a negotiation. The main takeaway is simple: keep offering fruits and veggies, even if they’re only glanced at. Consistency matters more than perfect bites.
The author shares two bento‑box style lunches. One is described right here, featuring a mix of protein, a small fruit portion, and a veggie side that can be tweaked to suit any picky palate. The second lunch, plus product links and full recipes, is saved for paid subscribers.
If you’re looking for quick ideas, start with the included combo, and remember the “keep offering” mantra—it’s the steady, low‑pressure approach that tends to win over little eaters over time.
1:02
A Radical Plan For Overhauling Our Hellish Bedtime Routine
My family and I just got back from the most wonderful four-day trip to the Pyrenees where we hiked and hung out in nature all day long, every day. The scenery was so idyllic it felt fake: little butterflies flitting from wildflower to wildflower in huge green fields flanked by majestic mountains, split by bubbling creeks meandering through tall stands of evergreens. I half-expected Princess Aurora to come skipping out of the woods with a basket of berries and a bird sitting on her shoulder, singing some operatic warmups.
What’s crazy is how calm and regulated I felt out there—like I was super mom, ready for anything! But as it turns out, I didn’t really need to be ready for anything, because my kids were also unusually well-regulated. Yes, there was the obligatory whining when the trail got steep (“carry me, Mom! I’m tiiiiiiirred.”) but there was zero yelling and very minimal fighting. Turns out, sticks and pinecones aren’t really worth battling over when they are everywhere.
My son, especially, really seemed to thrive. He’s a super hiker! Who knew? He did make a point of testing the limits of my “let them take risks” parenting strategy by bouldering his way to the top of every giant rock he could find and then standing one centimeter from the steepest drop, but he was undeniably happy, which is a big deal for him.
But here’s the best part: In the evening, when we got home from hiking and settled into our cozy mountain cottage, we’d eat dinner, play outside a bit, and then just go to bed. This may sound like an unremarkable phenomenon, but in order to understand the miracle, let me try to explain how evenings in our house normally work:
The battle begins the second we pick the kids up from school, around 4pm. They are always starving, and in France, there’s a tradition of going to the boulangerie for a snack after school. I hate this tradition, because it means my children fill up on white bread and croissants and then pick at their healthy dinner. We try to limit the after-school boulangerie outing to once per week, but inevitably, this becomes a power struggle, with my children constantly negotiating for an extra day. I’ve tried staving off the whining by bringing healthy snacks with me to school, but to no avail. How can an apple compete with a chocolate croissant?
After we’re done with the boulangerie power struggle we come home and start the homework power struggle. This one we lose 90% of the time, and I have to say, I’m okay with that, because I don’t really believe in homework for six-year-olds, but it’s not a good look for us when our son is the only one who routinely fails to turn in assignments.
Following the homework skirmish, we’re lucky if we get an hour or so of peaceful play before it’s time for dinner, at which point we enter into the next opportunity for a battle of wills: In our home, you must eat a reasonable amount of whatever I have prepared for dinner if you want dessert. My children have learned that this is an excellent opportunity for them to show off their peak terror tactics. My daughter is especially good at this. She will systematically reject whatever I serve, unless it’s white pasta with butter, as a means of exercising her petty power. Then she will demand dessert until, exhausted and frustrated, I capitulate and tell her to do as she likes.
All of that, however, is just the appetizer. The literal pièce de résistance comes at bedtime, when my children really let out all the stops. We have not, in our family, had a peaceful bedtime in six years, with the notable exception of our little trip to the Pyrenees last week. The “routine” begins with us telling our children that it’s time for bed, which they inevitably reject, because they are suddenly very busy with all kinds of projects in which they had no interest one hour ago. After about five warnings, we start physically wrangling them towards the bathroom. We beg them to brush their teeth, cajole them into peeing, wrestle them into pajamas and finally get them into bed. If this process happens without yelling, it’s already a small miracle. Then there’s an obligatory fifteen stories to be read, and by the time I am done with the last, I am so tired myself that I’m thinking of calling it a night at 9pm, but that’s not the end—oh, no.
Now they are thirsty, and starving! Let’s not forget that they spent all of their energy at dinner time whining instead of eating, and now they need a snack. So we get back out of bed and serve them a bowl of cereal, but it’s the wrong kind of cereal, or the milk was supposed to go in first, or the spoon is the wrong color, and everyone’s patience is already so thin that this inevitably ends in a round of shouting, tears, and overturned kitchen chairs.
3:03
the take home folder vol 125
I’ve been thinking about how a few simple gear tweaks can turn a sweltering baseball game into a tolerable outing. A cooling neck ring, a rechargeable mini‑fan, and a stainless‑steel water jug made the heat feel manageable, proving that a tiny shift in what we bring can change the whole experience.
I also realized it’s smarter to stock up on school basics now—backpacks, water bottles, Ticonderoga pencils, Crayola markers, and sturdy lunchboxes—while sales are already live. Buying early avoids last‑minute scrambling, saves money, and gives your future self a breather.
On the home front, I’ve been experimenting with homemade pizza. The first few tries were rough, but each round got a little better, reminding me that practice beats perfection. Alongside that, I’ve picked up a few favorite finds: lightweight barrel pants, a new fragrance, a lifetime‑warranty tennis bracelet, sparkling root‑beer water, and a marble chess board for the kids. All small joys that keep life feeling fresh.
3:30
Have a parent village? I want to interview you!
Chloe’s new book is built around a simple observation: most parents feel isolated, not because they’re “doing it wrong,” but because they’re doing it alone. She argues you don’t need a whole village—just two or three families you sync up with, whether it’s a monthly pizza night, a car‑pool that turned into friendship, or a group text for care swaps. She’s looking for parents with kids aged 4‑12 who have already started that kind of rhythm, or who can picture it, to share the small moments that made the connection click. If you fit the bill, she’s offering a 45‑minute Zoom interview in the next few weeks; the sign‑up takes under two minutes.
