Mom of 3 POV: What the Backstreet Boys Taught Me About Parenting

I was recently fortunate enough to go and see the Backstreet Boys perform live in Las Vegas. And look, I wasn’t really a superfan growing up, although I did have a favorite (Kevin, obviously) and a poster tacked up on my bedroom wall next to my beloved Got Milk? ads. But I hadn’t listened to the boys in decades. Still, when my middle-school besties suggested a trip down memory lane, you bet I packed my crop top, kissed my three kids goodbye and hopped on a plane.

And let me tell you: they were so good. The venue was amazing. Their voices were flawless. The “zaddy” jokes were spot on. But the best part was the trip itself—two days in Vegas with my friends, without kids. A blissful 48 hours with no meal prepping, laundry or anyone pestering me for snacks. Even the flight felt like a vacation.

I knew I’d come home with fewer bags under my eyes and at least one chapter down of the beach read I bought back in June. What I didn’t expect was to come home with parenting wisdom—straight from Brian, Nick, Howie and crew.

Well, not from them exactly. From my younger self.

See, it’s easy to laugh at who we were before kids. You’ve seen the clips on social media—the seasoned parent who jokingly reverts back to her younger self and smugly tells the camera something along the lines of, “When I have kids, I’ll never give them iPads at a restaurant; they’ll just sit politely making conversation and enjoying their crab cakes.” It’s funny because it’s true! Pre-kids me was definitely clueless. I once babysat a 9-month-old and kept him in pajamas all day because I thought that’s what babies wore. Another time, I left a 6-year-old home alone while I ran out for takeout. (Don’t worry, he’s fine. I think.)

But here’s the thing: pre-kids me was fun. Not just that, but she was messy, daring and joyful. She stayed up all night laughing with friends, built forts in the living room just for the heck of it, danced in kitchens, belted out pop songs and didn’t care who was watching. And somewhere between the endless school forms, Cheerios stuck between carseats and simultaneous tantrums, I seem to have misplaced that version of myself.

Research shows that listening to the music of your youth can actually boost your mood. But it was more than that. Seeing the Backstreet Boys perform live was the perfect combination of nostalgia and sisterhood. It was songs from a simpler time sung at the top of my lungs next to my best friends, most of whom are also moms navigating their own versions of chaos. Suddenly, I remembered that beneath the daily grind of bedtime negotiations and sibling squabbles, parenting is supposed to be fun. Because honestly, why else would I have signed up to do it (and three times no less)?

It’s still scorching here, which means the kids are basically demanding ice cream daily. My hack? Smoothies once or twice a week with hidden veggies included (I usually toss in a handful of spinach or a few florets of frozen cauliflower). Then I pour the leftovers into popsicle molds. They get their ice cream fix with a sneaky serving of greens and I get five minutes of peace.