Hi Superparents, Have you ever noticed that your child saves their biggest, loudest emotions for your living room? Or that they fall deeply asleep in the car the second you pick them up? It’s easy to think, "Why are they acting out with me?" But their nervous system is actually saying: "I am safe. I can finally let go." The Psychology: Restraint Collapse There is a name for this: Restraint Collapse. Children (and adults!) expend a huge amount of energy "holding it together" in environments where they feel they need to perform or be "good" to be accepted. When they finally return to their Safe Attachment Figure (you), that restraint collapses. The meltdown or the deep sleep, is actually the highest compliment. It means they don't have to wear a mask with you. The "Other House" Dynamic It is painful when it feels like your child "prefers" the other house, or acts "perfect" over there. But remember: Conditional love comes from fear. If they are walking on eggshells to avoid upsetting the other parent, they aren't being their true selves. In your house, they don't have to perform. They can be messy, loud, and real. The "Spilled Milk" Test In my book The Boy with the Blue Bike, Leo visits a neighborhood called Perfect Point. He watches a child accidentally break a sandcastle and immediately throw himself to the ground in terror, screaming, "I broke it, it's not perfect!". That child was terrified of making a mistake. Your house is the opposite of Perfect Point. In a Safe Headquarters, when milk spills, there is no yelling. We don't shame; we solve. "Oops, accidents happen. Let's grab a towel and clean this up together." You are teaching them that mistakes are not dangerous, they are just problems to be solved. The Silent House I know the silence is hard when they leave. Watching the house become quiet can feel heavy. But you are a Safe Headquarters for yourself, too. While they are gone, nurture you. Fill your own cup so that when they come back, tired, emotional, and ready to "collapse" into your arms, you are ready to catch them.

Hi Superparents, Being a single parent requires a kind of strength that most people will never understand. You have to split yourself into multiple people: the provider, the nurturer, the teacher, and the disciplinarian. The bills double, the time shrinks, and physically, we are exhausted. We want to be present for our kids, but often our minds are stuck figuring out how to survive the month. Today, I want to talk specifically to the single dads. Growing up, most of us were given one playbook: Be strong. Don't cry. Man up. That might have helped us look tough on the outside, but on the inside, it often just made the storm stronger. Nobody taught us how to release the pressure, so we just kept sealing the lid tighter. The "Pressure Cooker" Trap: We see so many cases where single dads are judged as "aggressive" or "angry." But often, that anger isn't who they are, it’s a release valve. 🧠 Psychologists call this the "Pressure Cooker Effect" of emotional suppression. Research shows that when men suppress sadness or vulnerability to conform to traditional masculine norms, that energy doesn't disappear. It transforms. It often re-emerges as irritability, anger, or sudden aggression because the emotional "container" is simply overflowing. True Strength is Clearing the Storm Validating your emotions isn't a weakness; it is the ultimate sign of strength. When you deal with that storm inside, you clear out the debris. You make space. And do you know what fills that space? Love. When you aren't holding back the dam, you can let more love in, and let more love out for your children. "Man Up" and Cry --> It is okay to cry. You are not less of a man for it; you are a more human father. Try opening up a little today—whether it's with a friend, a family member, or just writing it down. Let them know you are working on this part of yourself. You can be tough and still feel deeply. So man up, cry it out, and come back stronger. I can't remember a time my own dad said "I love you" to me. I knew he felt it, but he never had the tools to express it. I decided to break that cycle. Today, I challenge my son to see who can scream "I LOVE YOU!" the loudest. It is silly, it is loud, and it is so much fun. But most importantly, every single day, he knows—without a doubt—that his dad loves him.

Your life has changed. The life you used to have, the dreams you built, the family photos you imagined taking, they are not the same. And they never will be. It is brutally hard. You go back to a lonely house. Family reunions feel different. You might be asking yourself: "I am a strong person. I handle everything. Why is this destroying me?" The Truth: It hurts because you aren't just grieving a relationship; you are grieving a future. You are grieving a version of yourself. And often, you are hurting because of someone else’s bad choices, yet you are the one left standing strong, holding the roof up for your family. The "Instagram Healing" Trap Society tells us healing looks like reading a book by a window with a matcha latte. Real healing is nothing like that. Real healing is dark. It is messy. It is going into the deepest parts of yourself to talk to your inner child and say, "I know this hurts. I am here." The Book Connection: Shattered Shores In The Boy with the Blue Bike, Leo and Jasper build magnificent towers on the beach in the "Shattered Shores" chapter. But then, the tide comes in. "The castles collapse and are washed away by the waves... The cubes look like they are melting into the ocean water." Leo has to accept that the structure is gone. But because the structure is gone, the sand is free to be shaped into something else. There is a psychological concept for this called Post-Traumatic Growth. Psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun found that people who endure the destruction of their "life script" often experience positive psychological change because of the struggle, not in spite of it. Think of a lobster. 🦞 A lobster is a soft animal that lives inside a rigid shell. That shell does not expand. As the lobster grows, that shell becomes confining and painful. The lobster feels under pressure and uncomfortable. It has to go into a dark rock formation, cast off its shell, and produce a new one. The stimulus for the lobster to grow is the discomfort.

It is so hard not to take the bait. When the attacks come, everything in you wants to scream the truth. It is hard not to be dragged down into that low energy. It feels like you are losing if you don't fight back. But here is the truth: You are not losing. You are modeling. In The Boy with the Blue Bike, there is a moment in Mirrorland where three intimidating people in suits hover over Leo and Jasper. The boys realize something profound: the people are feeding off their energy. Leo decides to change the dynamic. He stops. "There is an abrupt silence. Jasper and I look at these three people. They pretend to be doing something else and go away again." This is not about winning a battle; it's about winning the war. Your children are witnessing a true Superparent in action. Even if they don't say it, they are watching. By refusing to engage in the toxicity, you are silently teaching them: 1. Strong Boundaries: "I do not let others control my emotions." 2. Self-Worth: "I am too valuable to argue with nonsense." 3. Love: "I choose peace for my home." The Psychology: The "Modeling" Effect Psychologist Albert Bandura’s research on Observational Learning proves that children learn far more from what they see us do than what we tell them to do. When you stay calm in the face of a storm, you aren't just protecting your peace today; you are hard-wiring your child’s brain to handle conflict with dignity for the rest of their lives. Your Mission: Don't ruminate. Document. When the nasty text comes: 1. Screenshot it. 2. Log it (get it out of your head and into your files). 3. Let it go. Don't spend your energy arguing. Spend your energy being Super. 👇 Let’s support each other: What is one thing you did for yourself this week instead of replying to a toxic message?

"It takes a village to raise a child." We hear this all the time. But for many of us—especially those of us solo parenting abroad—the reality is very different. We don't have a village. So, we become the village. We try to be the mother, the father, the aunt, the uncle, and the teacher all at once. This leads to burnout—not just physical exhaustion, but mental depletion. When we are in that state of survival, it is hard to be truly present. But there is a second, harder struggle: What happens when your co-parent does have a village, but you realize that is where the dysfunction comes from? Maybe they hand the kids off to grandparents to avoid doing the work themselves. Maybe that family never broke the cycle of trauma. They might love your children in their own way, but as we know, love on that side isn't always healthy. It often comes with "traumatic traditions." The Double Burden This doubles your workload. You aren't just raising your children; you are constantly working to protect them from that toxic environment and debrief them when they return. Your Home is the Burst of Color It reminds me of a moment in The Boy with the Blue Bike. After leaving the gray, rigid neighborhood of Stonehaven, Leo describes the feeling of finally crossing back into his own safe reality: "Heading out of the neighborhood, we pass all the gray. As soon as we cross the border, we experience a burst of color. Even Chippy feels it, and it looks like he is smiling all the way home." You are that burst of color. When your children leave the "gray" of the other home and cross the border back to you, they can finally exhale. It is easy to panic and feel like the "toxic village" will ruin your children. But here is a psychological fact to ground you, The Power of ONE : The "One Stable Adult" Rule: Research from the Harvard Center on the Developing Child shows that resilience doesn't require a perfect community. The single most common factor for children who thrive despite adversity is at least one stable and committed relationship with a supportive parent.