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Last week, I wrote from the heart, because anxiety has been a very regular topic in our house lately. This week, I did what I always do when life gets loud. I went back to the books.

Because while my instinct as a mom is to scoop everyone up, cancel anything remotely uncomfortable, and hand out snacks like I am running a small concession stand, the researcher in me knows that is not actually the goal. Also, my grocery bill would like a word.

Here is what the research reminded me of right away: Anxiety is not automatically a problem to fix.

Feeling stressed, worried, or anxious is a normal and even necessary part of child development. Kids are supposed to feel a little dread sometimes. Not “I cannot breathe and the world is ending” dread, but the “I do not love this” kind.

That manageable discomfort is part of how children learn to cope, persist, and grow. When anxiety is not overwhelming, it can actually help focus attention and concentration, and that can support learning.

In other words, a certain amount of nerves before the spelling test, the performance, the sleepover, or the new activity is not a parenting failure. It is often a sign your child is doing something that matters.

Unfortunately, child and adolescent anxiety has increased in recent years, especially since the pandemic. Some of that is influenced by genetics, because yes, anxiety can be inherited. A substantial part is also tied to bigger shifts such as instability in family life, changes in the social environment, and a real erosion of social connectedness.

Which means many kids are not just “a little nervous.” They are carrying more uncertainty than previous generations did, and it shows up in ways that can be easy to miss.

The tricky part is that anxiety in kids does not always look like anxiety in adults. If you are trying to determine whether what you are seeing is typical worry, a temporary stress reaction, or something more debilitating, it helps to know this.

Child anxiety often shows up differently than adult anxiety. Instead of saying, “I am anxious,” kids may become:

• more fidgety or restless
• more impulsive or moody
• extra clingy, especially younger children
• more likely to complain of headaches or stomachaches

Sometimes it looks like irritability. Sometimes it looks like defiance. Sometimes it looks like “I hate school,” when what they really mean is “school feels hard and I do not know how to say that.”

So what can we do at home? The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends starting the conversation when your child is calm. Not in the middle of the meltdown, not during the Sunday night spiral, and definitely not when you are both hungry. No one does their best emotional work while hangry.

You can let them know they have tools, and practice those tools before they need them:

• Practice deep breathing and muscle relaxation.
• Use positive self-talk, such as “I can try this,” instead of “I cannot do this.”
• Picture a safe place, such as their bedroom, a cozy corner, or a favorite outdoor spot.
• Face fears gradually with small, manageable steps, using gentle exposure over time.
• Praise brave behavior. The goal is to cope, not avoid.

I love that last line, because it reframes everything. We are not trying to eliminate anxiety. We are trying to build the skill of moving through it.

If you feel like what you are seeing is bigger than a moment in time, or if anxiety is getting in the way of sleep, school, friendships, or daily life, reach out to your child’s pediatrician. You do not have to diagnose anything at home. You just have to notice patterns and advocate early.

Because here is the truth I keep coming back to, as both a school leader and a mom.

Your child does not need a life with zero fear. They need the confidence that fear can show up, and they can handle it.

And if I am being honest, I need that reminder too. I would like to be the kind of parent who calmly teaches coping skills, not the kind who panic-Googles “Is this normal?” at 11:47 p.m. while standing in the kitchen eating their leftover crust of anxiety toast.

We are all learning. Together.