I’m not just turning the page on 2025.
I’m taking an assessment (the good v. the bad) and (assuming I haven't had a frontal labotomy) I'm ripping it to shreds. Setting it on fire. Doing a little dance. [Truth be told, there's just not that much "good" stuff to save!]. Then I'm galloping into 2026 like my hair’s on fire (in a good way).
Full confession: I don’t do astrology. But when the entire internet is screaming about “Year of the Snake” versus “Year of the Horse,” even I’m paying attention.
Snake = stillness, introspection, shedding your skin (eww, but metaphorically useful).
Horse = ACTION, momentum, charging forward like you remembered you left the gas stove burner on.
FIRE Horse = all of that but with extra pizzazz.
Sign me up.
2025: The Year We Don't Speak Of (But I’m About to Speak Of It)
Our family’s 2025?
Stress.
Loss.
Frustration.
The kind of year where you’re just trying to survive Tuesday.
We navigated a relative’s severe health issues. My business didn't make the money we'd hoped. Our beloved family dog left us and took our hearts with him. The dishwasher died - just before 25 arrived for Thanksgiving. The college kid (who survived middle school with under-prepared-me as a mom) had a near-breakdown. And, we experienced identity theft.
Everything felt like trudging through peanut butter while wearing concrete shoes.
BUT WAIT! There’s a plot twist!
Through all that garbage, there was: Introspection. Perseverance. Love. Clarity.
My values? Crystal clear.
My purpose? Finally in focus.
Who showed up when things imploded? Now I know exactly who deserves my energy.
Out of the ashes comes greatness, baby! Or at least a really solid meme about survival.
Enter: The Castle of Constraints (And My New Favorite Tradition)
Our friend Jan had a New Year’s Eve tradition that puts everyone else’s champagne-and-countdown routine to shame.
Picture this: She and a close friend would write down everything holding them back on scraps of paper.
Every constraint.
Every limiting belief.
Every “I can’t because...”
Then they’d drive to a remote cabin in upstate New York. And they’d build an ENORMOUS structure.
Like, architectural-feat-meets-bonfire enormous.
They called it “The Castle of Constraints.”
Then?
Well, they’d light that sucker ablaze.
Huge bonfire.
Crackling flames.
Sparks flying into the winter sky.
And one by one, they’d read each piece of paper aloud with DRAMATIC ZEAL (we’re talking Shakespearean delivery here), and hurl it into the fire.
Watch it burn.
Watch the smoke carry it away.
Watch the constraints become ash.
Gone. Released. Dead to them.
I’m resurrecting this tradition.
This New Year’s Eve, I’m building my own bonfire (perhaps not quite castle-sized—my neighbors already think I’m crazy). I’m giving Jan a warm nod across the universe. I’m burning every single thing that held me back in 2025. And, I'm taking a careful moment to see and embrace the good that remains: my vaues, my purpose, the family and friends who knew and showed up, and a new, improved dishwasher.
Because I need it. We all need it.
The Snake year was about shedding. Well, I’m about to shed DRAMATICALLY, with FIRE, while possibly wearing a cape (though Edna Mode might protest).
The Science of Sucking (At First)
Here’s where it gets good.
One of Parenting Genius’s core tenets is “Learning happens in the struggle.”
And guess what? SCIENCE BACKS THIS UP.
- Research on “desirable difficulties” (Bjork & Bjork) shows that when learning feels easy, it’s often shallow. When it feels hard? That’s your brain actually rewiring itself.
- Carol Dweck’s growth mindset research? Struggle is literally where capabilities expand.
- The “productive struggle” studies? Kids who work through challenges develop deeper understanding and greater resilience than those who get answers handed to them.
I learned this again in 2025. The hard way. Which, ironically, is the only way it works.
Much as I wanted someone to swoop in and fix everything (WHERE WAS MY FAIRY GODMOTHER?!), nobody did. And thank God. Because I can only see the growth now, in the rearview mirror.
Your Middle Schooler Needs to Fail at Stuff
I know. You’ve heard this before. But stay with me. We’re not talking about a bad grade or a missed soccer goal.
- Your kid forgets their lunch? That’s not a crisis. That’s data collection about executive function.
- They bomb a math test they didn’t study for? That’s cause and effect in real time.
- A friend drama explodes? That’s emotional/social intelligence boot camp.
- They try out for the team and don’t make it? That’s resilience training.
This is the work of middle school.
They’re figuring out who they are. What they’re made of. What’s possible. They NEED experiences where they think “I can’t do this” and then discover “Oh wait, I actually can.”
That’s not theory. That’s neuroscience. That’s identity development. That’s your kid building their operating system for life.
Your Job: Don’t Rescue. Reflect.
Two critical moves:
- Let them struggle a bit. (Not drown. Struggle. There’s a difference.)
- Help them reflect afterward. “What did you learn?” “What would you do differently?” “How did you handle that?”
Growth is invisible in the moment. It only shows up in retrospect.
But it DOES show up.
2026: The Year of Huge, Ridiculous, Glorious GrowI’m dedicating 2026 to GROWTH.
For you. For your middle schooler. For Parenting Genius and its mission.
We’re going full Fire Horse.
Energy.
Focus.
Momentum.
The kind of year where we look back and go, “Holy cow, did we really do all that?”
Want in? Follow this blog (below). Subscribe to my Substack. Grab the app. Download the books. Sign up for the Webinars (both coming soon!).
We’re going BIG or Going home - building the support you need to help your middle schooler discover who they are, while you enjoying the ride.
Let’s make middle school the launchpad it’s meant to be.
Because if 2025 taught me anything, it’s this:
The struggle isn’t the problem. The struggle is the POINT.
Now let’s go set some stuff on fire. 🔥
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