Mary Smith Parent Coach

The penny is gone. But the smallest things still shape our kids.

The U.S. stopped producing pennies last week.
A tiny coin, officially declared not worth the cost.

But in parenting?
The tiniest moments are still the most valuable currency we have.

A tone.
A glance.
A sigh you didn’t mean the way it landed.
A 10-second reaction during their big feeling.

Small emotional moments wire meaning—
whether we notice them or not.

And the meaning sticks.

Not because we’re bad parents.
But because we’re human parents.

Here’s the hopeful part:
You don’t need a whole new parenting system.
Just one different move in one moment.

A MicroStep.
A tiny shift that changes the wiring.

The penny may be outdated.
But the small moments?
They’re still how we raise resilient kids.

Small moments. Big impact.

That’s a wrap.

The youngest (you might remember her as #4) is officially adulting--first post-grad, adult job.

These poor kids were basically my parenting guinea pigs. I had no idea what I was doing — until the wheels came off and I had to learn. (Thanks to that chaos, I dove into the developmental, neuroscience, and behavior work that would eventually become my life’s work.)

So yes, they survived my parenting — but they also shaped it. Every meltdown, every mad dash out the door, every late-night talk was part of the research.

Now they’re out there figuring it out for themselves...and honestly, I'm in awe.

Grateful. Amazed. And proud that the mess became the method.

Just look at that crown she wore 20 years ago—clearly I peaked early as a mother.

For the first time in 25 years, fall is no longer ‘back-to-school’; instead, we’ve got four daughters (pretty much) running their own lives. You’d think that means I’d be at the top of my game. Not.

Two birthdays in September and I’m batting 0 for 2. (Sophie’s card said the wrong age. Enough said.) The mom-guilt is real.

This time, I missed the ‘get-the-card-in-the-mail’ deadline. And when her older sister, posting something from London well ahead of time, asked for the address, I multitasked at 100 miles an hour and confidently gave her the wrong address—on the other side of NYC. Sigh.

Thankfully, her roommates had it covered. Charlotte came home from her morning run to cupcakes and candles and flowers.

I guess that’s the real gift: knowing she’s surrounded by people who love her as much as we do.

(Oh, and yes, I’ll get that present in the mail…tomorrow.)

Happy Birthday to the one and only .smith19 - Love you!!

It took me a while to stop playing small. Turns out invisibility is just as exhausting.

Because too many brilliant, capable, creative women have spent decades playing small, staying silent, or waiting for permission to be seen.
Because midlife isn’t a closing chapter—it’s a powerful beginning.
Because the world needs our voices, our wisdom, and our lived experience—now more than ever.
Because I want to help raise every woman to rise, not just girls on the way.

✨ Women Getting Visible is about exactly that. ✨

You don't need to shrink
You don't need to hide
You can be you—and I’d like to help.

When I speak, I’ll be sharing the MicroStep Method®—because big change doesn’t happen in giant leaps. It happens in the small, real-time shifts that add up to confidence, trust, and a story you feel good about afterward.

Of course I didn’t start Women Getting Visible—that’s Christina Vidovich's brilliance. But I'm honored to support.

If you’ve been feeling the pull to step forward—whether for your children, your business, your community, or yourself—this is a space for you.

I’ll be there, and I’d love to see you there too.

🔗 Here's the Link: https://lnkd.in/etY2KP2K

Your kid rolls their eyes. Pushes back. Walks away mid-sentence.

And just like that—boom.
Frustration slams through you like a seatbelt in a sudden stop.

The words fly out. The reaction is big.
And the look on your child’s face says it all: What just happened?

I've got news: this spike isn’t just them.
It’s what happens when perimenopause collides with parenting.

Your body feels hijacked.
Your relationships take the hit.
And the guilt loops on repeat until you’re left wondering: Is it them—or is it me?

👉 So how do we address both?
This Friday, I’m joining Adrien Cotton —wellness + menopause expert—for a live conversation.

We’ll unpack:
✨ Why your brain feels hijacked right now
✨ Why emotional reactivity hits harder in this season
✨ How to reconnect in the heat of the moment—without an overhaul

That’s the power of the MicroStep Method®.

Because calm and cooperation at home?
Not a fantasy. Just a shift.

🗓 Friday, September 12
🕧 12 noon ET
📍 Live on Zoom
➡️ Free to attend — register now (link in bio).

This isn’t another symptom checklist.
It’s about reclaiming your energy, your boundaries, and your understanding of what’s normal.

You deserve answers.
Let’s start here.

Come and Join us!
https://adriencotton.com/webinar-optin/

A few years ago, my daughter couldn’t find the sports bra she needed for practice.

And I lost it.

We were already late. She stood in the laundry room, panicked.
And I snapped—not at her exactly, but at the laundry. The clutter.
At being the only one who knew where anything was.

(How is it that moms can find any child's lost item? I can tell you that the green hair tie is on the table in the library behind her library book...but I can't find my own keys 🙄)
She looked at me like: What just happened?
And I didn’t know either.

She looked at me like: What just happened?
And honestly, I had no idea.

I told myself it was stress. Being rushed. A bad night’s sleep.
What I never considered? Hormones.
I was deep in perimenopause—and had no idea.

No one had warned me how much it would shake my steadiness as a parent.
No one told me there are small, simple things that make it easier.

Adrien Cotton. A menopause expert with older kids of her \own.
Full disclosure: we’re both a little Type A. Which means we’re obsessed with the do-able things that actually help when two brains at home (yours and your kid’s) are changing at once.

So we are teaming up—because moms deserve this conversation.

Parenting is already hard.
Perimenopause makes it harder

📅 Is It Them, or Is It Me?
A Science-Backed Conversation on Perimenopause, Parenting, and Peace at Home
👉 Friday, September 12 at 12pm EST
🎟 Free to attend (yes, really!)
✨ Come learn why you’re not “failing” when you snap—and what you can do instead.

[Save your spot here → https://adriencotton.com/webinar-optin/]

Not perfect. Just different. One moment at a time.

I had a long list of reasons not to go:
Too much work. Not enough time. Definitely didn’t need that 20 minute vocal warmup they make us do 😂 😂

Then a friend said:
“Just come. Stay with me. Decision made.”

So I did.

And somehow… that weekend turned into a new speech.
Same story.
But now it starts with my 4-year-old thinking she’s about to be murdered.
(Yes, it’s a joke now. Yes, it lands.)

That’s the magic of HEROIC Public Speaking grads.
They show up—with guts, grace, and serious dedication to the craft.

And sometimes, they help you find the funny in the darkest corner of your story.

🎤 Want a speaker who brings humor, honesty, and real tools to help parents? Let’s talk.

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝘆. 😒
The whining.
The hovering.
The full-body flop onto the floor:
"𝐓𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼!"

And let’s be honest—half the time I caved.
I filled the silence.
I offered suggestions.
I played cruise director / activity coordinator / therapist.
All before breakfast.

✨ Fast forward to this summer:

I went to join my (now older) daughter on the beach.
And I was honestly kind of shocked:
No AirPods.
No book.
No TikTok.
Just stillness.
When I commented on it, she laughed:
“I 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦—t𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵.
𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐’𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵… 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴.”

And all I could think was:
𝗛𝘂𝗵. 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. 😂

Here’s the thing I’ve learned about boredom👇

It’s not just a mood.
It’s a skill.
It’s where kids learn to:
🌀 Sit with themselves
🌀 Get curious
🌀 Dabble, dawdle, imagine
🌀 Self-direct without you
Not right away. But eventually.
That long, messy stretch between “I’m bored” and “I figured it out”?
𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰 𝘇𝗼𝗻𝗲.

💡 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗠𝗶𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽:
Say it out loud. (Yes, even now.)
"𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗽 𝗱𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿.”

You’re not here to optimize every hour.
You’re here to hold space for the part of childhood that doesn’t come with a color-coded plan.

I call it:
𝗕𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴.
(AKA… summer.)
Let it be weird.
Let them be uncomfortable
Let them figure it out for themselves.
Because they will.
—
Anyone else in the middle of Boredom Tolerance Training?
🧃🙋🏽‍♀️👣

“Do You Still Love Me When I Mess Up?”
tl;dr: What shame sounds like at 11—and how belonging becomes possible again.

She was curled on the couch, arms crossed.

“You’re just mad because I mess everything up,” she said.
No tears. No drama. Just a quiet conclusion from a girl who had already decided the answer.

Her parents had come in asking about eye rolls and the teacher meeting.
But that sentence—that moment—was the real story.

Because it wasn’t about attitude.
It was about shame.

Not the loud kind that melts down.
The quiet kind that settles in.

If I mess up too much, you’ll stop loving me.
If I’m difficult, I must be bad.
If I’m bad, I’ll be left.

That’s what shame sounds like at 11.
Her parents rushed in with reassurance:
“You’re not bad.”
“Of course we love you.”
But shame doesn’t respond to logic.
Because shame isn’t asking for reassurance.
It’s asking for proof.

So we gave her one.

The MicroStep?
We made it a game.
Any mood, any moment—ask the same question:
👉 “Do you think I love you right now?”
And then answer—every time, no matter what:
“Of course I do. Always.”

No lecture. No teachable moment.
Just play. Just pattern. Just presence.

Because when a child feels unlovable, they don’t need a perfect answer.
They need a pattern they can test.

Over and over.
Until love feels safe again.

Your MicroStep ➡️
If your child ever asks—directly or sideways—Am I still good?
Make love something they can test.
And always get the same answer.

“Do you love me right now?”
Of course I do. Always.

Not a script. A safety net.
Not a performance. A pivot.
🌀 Small moment. Big impact.

hashtag hashtag hashtag hashtag

You raise them to leave. So why does it feel like a relief when they come back?

Your kid comes home from college.
She’s officially a graduate.
Independent. Grown.

Ten hours home, and the first real communication is a text from two doors down:
“Stealing the kitchen charger. Just for tonight.”

No emoji. No punctuation.
Just a flicker of the old rhythm.
Still claims things.
Still knows this is home.
Still belongs.

And honestly?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She’s the youngest of four.
The last to fly the nest.
And now, like a boomerang—back, just for a bit.

But that’s the thing about kids launching and returning:
It’s rarely dramatic.
It’s often delightfully mundane.

It’s socks on the floor by the sofa.
A borrowed charger.
A cereal bowl on the counter from last night.
And suddenly—you exhale.

Last month was Mental Health Awareness Month.
But the small, quiet moments that shape emotional health? They don’t follow a calendar.

And one thing I’ve come to believe—through parenting, coaching, and just living in the messy middle—is this:

Emotional health doesn’t always look like a breakthrough.
Sometimes, it looks like a borrowed charger.
A door left open.
Something that says “I still belong.”

Because to feel mentally well, we don’t just need support in the hard times.
We need to feel safe, seen, and remembered—even in the ordinary ones.

These small, ordinary moments?
They matter more than we think.

𝘈𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?
𝘋𝘳𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 “t𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘳” 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸.

Last weekend, Sophie helped punch her team’s ticket to the NCAA Final Four.
Whoop whoop!

But I know what it took to get there.
The 6:00 a.m. lifts. The injuries. The doubt. The skipped dances and late assignments.

That Final Four win was loud and joyful—and absolutely worth celebrating.

But the moment that stuck with me?
The Tuesday before, coaching my K–2 team.
One little girl burst into tears because she didn’t win our Hungry Hippo ball pickup game.

She sat crumpled next to the pile of balls, completely undone.
And I was at a loss for words.
(Okay, slightly irritated, to be honest.)

Then I knelt beside her and said:
“That was really disappointing, huh? You really wanted that win.”

She nodded.
No pep talk. No fixing.
Just presence.
Then (because 5 year olds are wildcards), she cartwheeled off to play.

That’s grit.
Not the headline moment.
But the one no one sees.

👉 Milestones matter. But grit—the kind that carries our kids through life—is built in the messy middle.

Your MicroStep
Next time your child struggles, try this:
“This part is hard. And you’re still here. That’s grit.”

📖 Read the full blog: Grit Isn’t Loud → https://marysmithparentcoach.com/parenting-resources/how-to-help-your-child-build-grit