Red, White & (We've Got the) Blues

Like many well-intentioned parents on the Gulf Coast, I set out this week determined to create a core memory for my children. 

 

I envisioned us on an air conditioned balcony sipping our iced coffee/orange juices as we watched the Blue Angels soar across a crystal blue sky on their first practice morning.

 

Spoiler alert: This is not how things went.

 

It all started with a lie… to myself.

 

When I saw that there was a breakfast/brunch during the first Blue Angels practice, I said, “Oh, perfect! The girls will LOVE this.”

 

And it’ll be inside. And breakfast. And bathrooms. And earplugs. 

 

It was not indoors.

Definitely no earplugs.

And no one cared about breakfast while their eardrums were being brutally assaulted.

 

The first jet flew by — low, loud, and impossibly fast. My 4-year-old screamed, dropped to the ground, and covered her ears like we were under attack. My 6-year-old launched into full panic mode, hysterically crying “I want to go home!” on repeat.

 

I tried to calm them. I crouched down and used the softest, most motherly tone I could muster while literally yelling over the next supersonic fly-by:

 

“It’s okay! They’re just airplanes! It’s fun! Look how cool!”

 

They were not buying it. I could see it in their wide, betrayed eyes.

 

So we left.

 

Instead, we retreated — to the sweet, blessed hum of air conditioning and a place that served delicious acai bowls and iced coffee. 

 

And you know what? That little café was the memory. 

 

We laughed about the jet-induced trauma. We talked about how sometimes it’s okay to change the plan. And my 4-year-old told the cashier with complete seriousness that “the sky screamed at her.”

 

Here’s what I realized, between spoonfuls of dragon fruit:

 

I had wildly unrealistic expectations of what the event would be like.

 

Sure, the idea of the Blue Angels sounds fun to me — but to a preschooler with a deeply suspicious relationship with loud noises, it was essentially an airborne horror movie. 

 

And while there’s nothing wrong with hoping for magical moments, it’s important — in parenting, in life — to keep our expectations age-appropriate, situationally reasonable, and rooted in reality.

 

Which brings me, unexpectedly but truthfully, to estate planning.

 

Wait, what do the Blue Angels have to do with estate planning?

 

A lot, actually.

 

Just like my Blue Angels debacle, many of us walk into life’s big moments (or responsibilities) with completely mismatched expectations. 

 

We think:

 

 

But the truth is:

 

 

And your loved ones won’t magically know your wishes if you haven’t spelled them out clearly.

 

We can’t protect our kids from every loud surprise life throws at them — but we can make sure that, if something happens to us, they’re cared for, supported, and not left scrambling through legal chaos.

 

So here’s your nudge.

 

If you’ve been meaning to start (or update) your estate plan — let’s do it.

 

Click here to schedule a consultation and let’s get it taken care of.

 

No jet fuel required.

 

Happy Belated Fourth from a mom who now checks the decibel rating before planning family outings.

 

P.S. We’re never doing Monster Trucks.