Living in Two Worlds: Parenting in a Time of Crisis

Lately, I’ve felt like I’m living in two worlds at once. And I don’t think I’m the only one.

On one side, there is the chaos of the world: neighbors in crisis, protests downtown, families separated, horrifying headlines of people abducted, children starving, wars unfolding. It feels like every time I pick up my phone, I’m hit with another wave of grief, fear, or outrage.

On the other side, there is the immediacy of parenting: Halloween costumes, fall festivals, the bedtime snuggles, and the never-ending question of what’s for dinner. Our kids are excited about pumpkins, candy, and celebrations. They deserve parents who can show up in that joy.

But often, those worlds collide. I’m reading an article that leaves me gutted while stirring a pot of soup. I’m tucking my child into bed while holding the weight of stories of parents who don’t get that privilege. It feels like being split in two—half of me pulled toward the world’s pain, half of me trying to preserve the wonder of childhood at home.

The Tangible Split

It’s not just emotional—it’s practical, too. I got a text from a friend the other day that made me laugh in the way only exhaustion can: “In this week’s episode of Parenting and Rising Fascism—Booosterfest or No King’s Rally tomorrow?”

And that’s exactly what it feels like. Do you spend your Saturday showing up for your community? Or do you spend it at your child’s school carnival? Do you cancel a subscription to a company that doesn’t align with your values? Or do you keep it because your child is still in their Elsa phase? These are the small but constant questions we carry.

Where I’ve Found Peace

The one time I felt truly grounded recently was packing whistles on a Friday night with a group of neighbors. The task itself was somber, but the act of being together—talking, laughing, creating something with our hands—was joyful. It reminded me that even heavy work can feel lighter when it’s shared.

And I think that’s the thread: it’s less about doing everything, and more about doing something—especially when that “something” connects us to others.

Small Ways Forward

I don’t have all the answers, but here’s where I keep coming back:

• Shift how you spend. If you’re upset about what’s happening in the world, one of the most tangible things you can do is use your dollars differently. Cancel that subscription to a company that doesn’t align with your values. If cancelling feels big--pause it for a couple of months. You might suprise yourself at how little you really need it.

• Plan ahead and shop local. As we move into the holiday season, plan ahead so you’re not stuck in the last-minute scramble that drives us back to the big-box stores or overnight delivery giants. It takes extra effort, yes—but those small choices can add up to real change, and they also remind us we’re not powerless. It’s truly amazing to be investing in our local companies—I feel wonderful seeing their smiles every time.

• Let kids be part of the action. Whether it’s helping pack supplies, joining a food drive, or making cards for a neighbor, small acts can become family rituals. And this year, our food pantries will need us more than ever.

• Protect joy as a practice. Saying yes to the silly costumes, the fall parades, and the bedtime stories isn’t frivolous. It’s essential. It’s what helps our kids (and us) remember that joy and care still exist, even in difficult times.

• Lean on community. Being together—even in hard work—creates safety, laughter, and a sense that none of us are carrying the weight alone.

Both/And Parenting

If you feel like you’re being pulled in two directions, you’re not failing. You’re awake. You’re human. You’re trying to hold grief and joy at the same time.

I’ll admit, I grappled with how much I wanted to say here—how harsh or how gentle. The truth is, our neighborhoods have been under siege in real ways. We’ve had heavy, frightening things happening close to home. Our locations have been very impacted--our staff and children and our membership were at the local Halloween Parade that was recently in the news.

But what I come back to is this: our small joys, our family's traditions, and our sense of community belonging are what bind us together. Sometimes finding joy is a protest in itself. It doesn’t erase the fear, but it makes it possible to keep showing up, for the world and for our kids.