My oldest daughter Maggie has never been particularly sweet. 

At least not to us.

And that’s not to say not to say she’s a bad kid—she’s not. 

She's incredibly smart, focused, hard-working, and a deeply loyal friend. She loves animals, and little kids absolutely adore her.

But "sweet" is not exactly the word I would have used to describe her for the last few years.

In fact, from about ages 14 to 17, we survived what I can only describe as four full years of teenage hell.

She wasn't rebellious in the traditional sense. She wasn’t sneaking out or getting in trouble at school. She wasn’t out partying or vaping or making stupid choices.

But personality-wise? 

She was just mean. Dismissive. Cold. 

She didn't want anything to do with us, and she certainly didn't want to be seen with us.

As a mom, there were a lot of moments that really hurt.

She wouldn't talk to us at games, even though we showed up to watch her cheer for every single one. 

She didn't tell us she'd been asked to prom—or invite us to take pictures with her friends, even though all the other parents were there. 

There were so many little moments that added up to one very loud message: 

Just leave me alone.

And even though I told myself it was normal—just typical teenage stuff—it still stung.

It certainly wasn’t the loving “my mom is my best friend” relationship I imagined when the doctor said, “it’s a girl.”

But last year, when she graduated with so many honors I hadn’t known she was even eligible for, I started to realize for the first time that maybe that independent streak of hers wasn’t such a bad thing. I even wrote about it in this newsletter.

But this summer has completely taken me by surprise.

She just finished her freshman year of college, and she's home for the summer.

I’ve always heard horror stories about kids coming home from their first year away.

But for us, it’s been the opposite. 

I guess maybe since she’s been asserting her independence for years, coming home made her realize what she's missed.

She's so much sweeter.

Not only that, she actually wants to be around us. She's home for dinner most nights. She wants to hang out. She helps in the kitchen, asks about our day, plays games as a family, and genuinely seems to enjoy being with us.

The other morning she made breakfast for the whole family—an avocado toast flight using my homemade sourdough, complete with different toppings on each slice, just for fun. Like we were at a foodie brunch spot.

Then, a week ago, she unveiled a PowerPoint presentation outlining a full trip itinerary as we head to Italy as a family for my niece's wedding. She had been working on it for at least a month, doing all the research on what would be fun to do. There were choices for every family member, based on what she thought we'd like.

It was detailed, thoughtful, and honestly kind of amazing.

She then proceeded to arrange all the train tickets for our day trips to Rome and Cinque Terre, and to make dinner reservations for all the must-eat hotspots.

And I just sat there thinking… who is this child?

Because the truth is that I didn't know if this season would ever come.

I hoped. I prayed. But during those hard teenage years, I sometimes wondered if we'd ever be close again—or if the version of Maggie I loved so much as a little girl was just gone forever.

Turns out, she wasn't gone. She was just becoming.

And maybe you can relate to that feeling.

Maybe you have a teenager who's pulling away right now, or a relationship that feels harder than it used to be. Maybe you're wondering if things will ever get better, or if the person you used to love spending time with is gone for good.

I'm here to tell you something I wish someone had told me during those hard years:

It won't always be like this.

The story's not over yet.

Morgan Harper Nichols once said, "Be patient with people. Some flowers bloom late, and some seasons take longer to shift." Along those same lines, Gretchen Rubin reminds us that "the days are long, but the years are short."

In other words? Just because someone is hard to love in one season doesn't mean they'll stay that way forever.

We talk a lot about how hard parenting is when your kids are babies or toddlers, but we don't always talk about how brutal it can be when they're teenagers—when they pull away, roll their eyes, and make you feel like the least cool person on the planet.

It hurts. Especially when you're doing your best to show up for them, and it feels like they couldn't care less.

But here's what I’m still learning: People change. Kids grow. And sometimes—just when you've made your peace with the distance—they come back in the most unexpected and beautiful way.

So if that's where you are right now, don't give up too soon.

And my challenge for you this week is this: Think of the person in your life who's hard to love right now. Maybe it's your teenager. Maybe it's a sibling or a friend or even your spouse.

This week, choose to believe that the story isn't finished yet.

Give grace. Hold space. And stay open to the surprise of who they might still become.

Live with purpose, friend, and have a joy-filled week.

xoxo, Ruth

P.S. This will be my last newsletter for a month, as I will be traveling until the end of August (first with my family in Italy, then two weeks with my sister around Europe for our epic sister adventure. Be sure to follow along on Instagram if you want to see updates!)

P.P.S. I loved hearing all your responses to my “What’s your culinary school?” email last week! I’m so glad to know I’m not the only one who sometimes dreams about the path I didn’t take.

This week’s podcast episodes…

What’s cooking in my kitchen…

The latest from my Instagram…

Instagram is my jam! If you’re there too, I’d love to connect with you—find me at @RuthSoukup or @ruthsoukupbiz for online business tips!

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