When the World Hurts and You Still Have to Pack Lunches: How to handle a national tragedy as a parent.
Yesterday, a 37-year-old mother was shot by ICE. As a parent, that kind of news lands differently. It’s not abstract. It’s personal. I’m a mom, and I’m someone who works to stand up for people who are often underrepresented. My immediate reaction was grief, fear, and a deep sense of vulnerability—followed quickly by the reality that I still needed to pick up my kids from daycare and keep moving through the day.
That transition—from heartbreak to parenting mode—is one of the hardest parts of being a parent when difficult things happen in the world. There is no pause button. Children still need routine, attention, and care even when your nervous system is overwhelmed. Yesterday, after crying earlier in the day, I picked up my kids, we went outside, went sledding, and put our phones down. Both things existed at the same time: the joy of being present with my children and the weight of what I had just learned.
For many parents, this internal conflict is familiar. We want to protect our children, but we also want to prepare them for the world they are growing up in. We want to be honest without overwhelming them, calm without being disconnected, and steady even when we don’t feel steady ourselves. Regardless of political views or personal beliefs, there are days when the news makes it hard to put on a brave face—or even a neutral one.
I often talk about leading when it hurts, and I believe parenting is one of the most complex forms of leadership there is. Parents lead in their families, in their schools, and in their communities, often without naming it as leadership. On days like this, leadership doesn’t mean having the right words or perfect responses. It means modeling how to move through hard information while staying grounded and connected.
When days like this happen, there are a few things I intentionally do to help regulate myself so I can show up for my kids.
First, I put limits on how much information I consume. Staying informed matters, but constant exposure to distressing news can increase anxiety without increasing understanding. I give myself a defined amount of time to read or listen, and then I step away. This boundary helps prevent spiraling and allows me to stay present with my family.
Second, I adjust how I talk to my children based on their age and developmental level. The way I speak with my 14-year-old, who I want informed and critically engaged, is very different from how I speak with my 5-year-old, who needs reassurance and a sense of safety. It is okay to say, “I’m not feeling my best today,” or “The world is dealing with some hard things right now,” without going into details. Children don’t need full explanations to benefit from honesty; they need emotional attunement. Don’t lie to them that everything is ok because they’re smarter than that.
Third, I let people in my circle know how I’m feeling. I name what’s upsetting me and say it out loud to someone I trust. People can’t support you if they don’t know what you’re carrying. Sometimes that support is a conversation; sometimes it’s just being heard. Either way, it helps reduce the sense of isolation that often comes with parenting through hard moments.
Finally, when I notice myself slipping into an emotional or mental spiral, I move my body. A walk, a bike ride, sledding, or any kind of physical movement helps regulate my nervous system. Movement doesn’t solve the problem, but it helps my body settle enough that I can think clearly and reconnect with the present moment.
Parenting during times of collective stress is not about getting it right. It’s about staying regulated enough to remain connected, honest, and present. It’s okay to feel grief and still create moments of joy. It’s okay to struggle internally while continuing to lead your family with care. These experiences can coexist, and acknowledging that reality is often the first step toward getting through days like this.
