This story goes back to the middle years of my design career, when I was still figuring out what it really meant to lead.

During a team meeting, my manager brought up a project plan he had asked me to draft. I had been busy and not started yet, and I definitely wasn’t expecting him to bring it up in front of everyone. My mind went blank for a second.

Then an idea came to me: the plan didn’t exist yet, and we were all sitting right there together. Why not turn it into a group brainstorm? We could collect ideas from the team, everyone would feel involved, and that’s good design thinking, right? I was pretty pleased with myself.

So I said I had actually been hoping to open this up for discussion, and invited everyone to share their thoughts. I took notes. It seemed to go fine.

After the meeting, as I was packing up to leave, my manager pulled me aside. “Got a few minutes? I want to talk about what just happened with the project plan.”

I assumed he wanted to add something. Instead, he got serious: “When that topic came up, everyone was expecting you to show some leadership. But that didn’t happen.”

I didn’t understand. I asked him to explain.

“I gave you ownership of this project. As the owner, you’re supposed to move it forward, and come up with an initial plan, something people can react to. When I asked about the progress, the team was expecting you to present your thinking so they could give you feedback. Instead, you turned it into a group discussion from a blank slate. It looked like you did not think about it yet and were hoping the group would do the thinking for you. So is this your project, or everyone’s project?”

My face went hot.

“I’ve been busy and haven’t had a chance to prepare anything. When you brought it up suddenly, I just thought since everyone’s here, why not brainstorm and get people engaged.”

He softened a little: “Not having started yet is completely fine. What I want you to understand better is what it means to lead a project, when to make the call yourself, and when to bring others in to decide together.”

Looking back now, my move was pretty naive. I genuinely thought I was being clever by turning an awkward moment into a collaborative one. But what I was actually doing was dodging ownership. That conversation was one of the moments that shifted how I understood leadership: it starts with showing up with your own thinking, even when it’s incomplete. It took time, but I think I eventually grew into that.

Later, in one of our regular one-on-ones, my manager walked me through four ways of making decisions: Command, Consult, Vote, and Consensus. The idea is that a thoughtful decision-maker picks the right approach for the situation, one that’s both efficient and fair.

These four approaches come from the book Crucial Conversations by Kerry Patterson, Joseph Grenny, Ron McMillan, and Al Switzler.

I found them so useful that I turned them into a sketchnote, mostly as a reminder to myself.

Command

This is when the decision is made by an outside force, either someone imposes it on us, or we hand the decision over to someone else and let them handle it. Our job here isn’t to decide; it’s to execute.

When we voluntarily give up the decision, it usually means we either don’t think it’s high-stakes enough to weigh in on, or we trust the other person to make a good call without us.

I grew up with a lot of Command moments: parents told me when and where to go to school, teachers told me how much homework to do. As I got older, more and more decisions became mine to make. And at work, how much say you have depends on your role.

As a UX designer, I make a lot of design decisions, and I rarely hand those over to others. But early in my career, at a small company, a senior leader looked at my design and said “it should be done this way.” I explained my reasoning. He said, “just do it my way.” I explained again. He got impatient: “Come on, help me change it,” and walked off. I felt completely deflated. He didn’t have a design background, and I had no choice but to follow the instruction.

If that happened today, I would know how to respond more effectively, and I would find other ways to validate my work.

Consult

The decision-maker gathers input before making a final call. It’s an effective way to get different perspectives and build support, without letting the process turn into a group decision. You listen, you weigh the options, you decide, and you communicate the outcome.

If you’re a designer, you probably already know this well. Many design teams hold regular critique sessions where each designer presents their work to be questioned and challenged: why did you design it this way? Why does the user have to click a button to do this? Why does this icon look like that?

The presenter brings the work. But they’re also the decision-maker. They choose what to show, what feedback to ask for, and what to do with what they hear.

Going back to the project plan story: that was exactly where I needed Consult. I should have drafted something first, even rough, then brought it to the relevant people for input, revised, gathered more feedback, and finalized. Instead, I skipped the first step entirely and hoped the group would do it for me. That’s not consulting. That’s passing the work off to the group.

Vote

A few options are on the table, everyone votes, the majority wins. It’s democratic. But does the majority always make the best call? Not necessarily. Voters might not all have deep knowledge of the problem, they can be influenced by all kinds of things, and if someone starts trying to persuade others to vote their way, the result can shift quickly.

That said, Vote is great when speed matters most, especially when there are a few solid options already laid out and you just need to pick one.

At work, I have mostly used it in design brainstorms to surface the most important themes, or to let the team vote on what to do for a team outing. Low-stakes, efficient, good enough.

Consensus

Everyone keeps discussing until they all genuinely agree. The upside: strong alignment and better decisions. The downside: it can take a long time, or end up with a result that nobody is really happy with.

Consensus is worth it when the stakes are high, the problem is complex, or when everyone needs to be fully on board with whatever gets decided.

As a designer, I use it constantly when working across teams: with product managers on design direction, with engineers on what’s actually feasible. I’ve learned to come into those meetings well-prepared, walk through things section by section, check in on questions along the way, and leave time for discussion. When it works, we leave aligned. When it doesn’t, I schedule a follow-up.

Once everyone has agreed, there’s no going back. If a consensus decision goes badly wrong, everyone shares the responsibility.

That’s also why I think it’s so important to speak up before consensus is reached. If I disagree with a direction but stay quiet, once the group agrees, that window closes. Bringing it up afterward looks like I knew all along but said nothing, then why didn’t I speak up earlier? My perspective might actually change the outcome. It’s worth saying out loud.

I still catch myself reaching for the wrong approach sometimes, like moving too fast when I should have consulted more people, or opening things up for discussion when really I just needed to make the call. But having these four options in mind has made me much more intentional. Before walking into any decision, it helps to pause for a second and ask: what kind of decision is this, really? The answer shapes everything: how I prepare, who I involve, and how much time we actually need.

Now, these four approaches feel more relevant than ever, because it also applies to how we work with AI. We started by using it as a tool, and now many of us collaborate with it daily. As AI becomes capable of thinking and acting on its own, what that relationship looks like is still being figured out by all of us. That's a choice we each get to make.

The snow was still falling when I looked out at our front path, completely buried, and couldn’t help myself, so I grabbed the shovel and went out to try clearing it.

I tried pushing the snow to the side, but got stuck almost immediately. The snow was so light and fluffy that it just filled up the shovel, and the snow piling up in front just pushed back. I was pushing against a shovel packed with snow and getting nowhere. So I gave up and went back inside.

A little later, my husband went out to clear the path. I watched him take quick, shallow scoops and toss the snow aside each time, never loading up too much. He cleared a big section pretty fast. Watching him, I thought, yeah, trying to push all that snow at once was not going to work. This is how I should do it.

The next day I went back out, copying his technique: scoop, toss, scoop, toss. I was going at it hard, but my hands got sore and my arms gave out pretty quickly. Out of options, I tried pushing the snow forward with the shovel instead — and it worked surprisingly well. That’s when I noticed: overnight, the snow had started to melt. It was denser now, with a thin layer of water between the snow and the ground that made it slide easily. Scraping it up took barely any effort, and pushing it along felt almost effortless too.

The snow had changed completely from the day before. If I hadn’t noticed and just kept shoveling the same way, I probably would have kept working until my arms worn out, taken a break, and started all over again.

Thinking about it after, I feel like a lot of things work this way. When we’re dealing with something, the thing itself might be quietly changing the whole time. Like that snow: fluffy one day, dense the next. The right approach shifts with it. Brute force can get the job done sometimes, but if we stay observant and stay open to trying something different, we might find there’s a better way.

One of my favorite podcasts is Wú Rén Zhī Xiǎo (No One Knows), a Chinese show that explores technology, society, and what it means to be human in a changing world. In the latest episode, guest Li Jigang, a Chinese AI explorer and product thinker, said something about education that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about: for as long as we can remember, education has been like water. Learning means having knowledge poured into our brains through a hose. But with generative AI, the old model of rote memorization is losing its meaning. What matters most in the future, he said, is finding our own spark. Finding a little match inside us that lights a flame: what we’re good at, what we enjoy, what we’re truly passionate about.

I immediately remembered studying English vocabulary as a kid: copying each word dozens of times, going over them again and again all day, falling asleep to audio recordings at night. That was what being force-fed felt like. Teachers, parents, even we ourselves held the hose, packed full of facts and formulas, and we opened wide and drank as hard as we could, just to get it all to stick.

So why does that approach fall apart in the age of generative AI? Because today’s large language models don’t just hold nearly all of human knowledge, they have great memory, remarkable creativity, and they’re faster than we’ll ever be. If the competition is still about who can store more water in their brain, humans will lose every time. Just as the Industrial Revolution handed physical labor over to machines, AI is now taking over mental labor.

So what’s left for us?

I use AI constantly, in both work and daily life. When I reflect on how I actually interact with it, I never just dump a task into a prompt and submit whatever comes back. I come in with a rough direction, let AI expand on it, take what it gives me, adjust, and go again. Several rounds. Throughout that process, AI is the tool. But I’m the one deciding where it goes.

That sense of “where to go” is what I think where human value lives. AI is powerful, but it has no desires, no preferences, no burning need to figure something out. It waits (at least for now) for a human to speak first. And where does that first word come from? It comes from knowing what we want, caring about the outcome, having our own judgment and taste. Those things, current AI doesn’t have and can’t replace. It can give us an answer, and if we ask for more, it’ll keep going, and that’s what it does best. But which answers are worth keeping, and which are just noise? That’s on us to figure out. If we don’t know where we’re going, all those answers won’t mean much.

So how do we guide our children in this AI age? Li put it this way: we adults need to be like fish who live in water and actually know the water is there. If we can’t see the environment we’re in, we have no chance of stepping back to understand how it’s shaping us.

A number that stayed with me from a labor market report recently published by Anthropic: since ChatGPT launched, the rate of 22-to-25-year-olds entering AI-exposed occupations has dropped by roughly 14%. Not because they’re being laid off, but because companies have simply stopped hiring for those entry-level roles. The basic, ground-level work that young people used to do to get started? AI handles it faster and cheaper. Traditionally, that’s how they built experience and grew into their careers. But now, that path is quietly disappearing.

My kids are still very young. What the world will look like by the time they reach that age, I genuinely don’t know. But the qualities we’ve been trying to nurture in them — knowing what they want, thinking for themselves, not just going along with whatever gets poured their way — may matter even more than we originally thought.

How exactly to get there, honestly, I haven’t figured out. Have them talking to AI from an early age? Learning to code? Building structured thinking habits? There are too many possibilities, and I don’t know what any of them will actually lead to.

Li also said that society has inertia. An education system that’s run the same way for over a century can’t turn around overnight. There will inevitably be a transition period. Maybe that transition looks like this: kids spend their days inside traditional education, and come home to a family that’s already embracing change.

As parents, we go first, and gradually help our children see that when facing new tools and uncertainty, we can meet them with curiosity and our own judgment, rather than passively accepting whatever comes or outsourcing our thinking entirely.

We were born into an interesting time. From the internet to mobile, to AI, all in a few decades, fast enough to make our heads spin. Living inside the change, we sometimes can’t see the water we’re swimming in. Other times, we suddenly catch a glimpse of the wave pushing everyone forward. Some people ride it. Some slowly fall behind. Some are no longer in it at all. I hope my children and I will always be among those still in the wave.

Whether the flame inside them catches, and when, I don’t know yet. But at the very least, I want them to see that fire is possible.

Header image: I drew a little matchstick, which we are using to try to light the flame within.

Watching her knock down what she just built without any hesitation, eager to start over, a thought struck me: Isn’t this exactly what my year has been like? The order I thought I had established got knocked down, and I started over, moving forward. The biggest gift this year my life has given me was learning to see change as bringing new possibilities.

Baby number two arrived

This year, we welcomed our second child.

I still remember when our first was born - our life went through a “reset”. Before kids, our routine was pretty fixed: home, work, occasional outings. After our first arrived, we went to places we never visited before: sliding down big slides at playgrounds, seeing dinosaurs at museums, digging in sand pits… These were places we had passed countless times but never noticed. When I started seeing things from a child’s perspective, those ordinary places suddenly became interesting.

Before our second arrived, we had established a comfortable rhythm with our first. But bringing home our second was like dropping a pebble into a calm lake, “breaking” our familiar daily routine again.

This time, though, I didn’t feel anxious - instead, I felt calm. I knew this was another chance to “reset”.

For example, with one child, we only needed to think about communicating with her. With two children, we started thinking: how can we become a great team of four? We want our children to collaborate and support each other, not compete. So we’re now paying attention to how we talk to them, encouraging help and cooperation among family members rather than putting ourselves against each other.

In the future, our second will also take us into worlds we never imagined, just like the way our first took us to explore around.

Reconnecting with the “I am not good at coding” version of myself

If my children brought a “reset” to my lifestyle, AI gave me a new understanding of myself - or another kind of “reset.”

I studied computer science, was a good student, but never liked programming. This was a major reason I decided not to become a programmer and switched to UX design. For a long time, I thought spending hours writing code was something I would never do again. I even gave myself a label: “I’m not good at coding.”

But these couple of years, with AI’s help, I actually completed some small coding projects. This surprised me. What surprised me even more was discovering I actually enjoyed the process.

I realized that the foundation I built years ago became useful in this new era. The code that used to give me headaches, with AI’s help, now lets me quickly build out ideas from my mind. And that foundation gives me a baseline to judge the quality of what I build.

This feeling is wonderful - like picking up an old toy I had tucked away in a corner and discovering it has new ways to play. It also made me understand that I’m not stuck with any professional label. Those possibilities I thought I had given up have always been there, just waiting for a new opportunity to be picked up again.

Just like my toddler knocking down the block tower and shouting “More!”, I’m rebuilding things I once thought I couldn’t build.

Moving forward

Looking back at this year, I feel fulfilled.

From welcoming our second child, to picking up coding again, to daily interactions with the kids, these moments that seemed to “break the order” were actually helping me “reset” myself - letting me face the unknown with a more open mind, exploring areas I thought didn’t belong to me.

I’m certain that whether as a designer or as a mother of two, my core hasn’t changed - I’m someone full of curiosity.

Now, when my children point to an unknown path ahead and ask me something, I don’t rush to give answers. Instead, I’m more willing to hold their hands and say: “I don’t know either, but we can try together and see.”

Just like that fallen block tower - it’s okay if it falls down, we can build it again, and each time it’ll be different.

2026 is coming, and I’m looking forward to seeing where those unknown changes will take us.

Early in my career, I received my first 360-degree feedback review. Many companies use this kind of feedback mechanism where the manager, colleagues, and people from other departments all share their thoughts about our work.

My manager went through the feedback with me one by one. There was one comment I remember clearly to this day: “She is a doer, not a thinker.”

I remember feeling so hurt in that moment. Tears nearly fell, but I held them back. My manager told me not to take it to heart, but I couldn’t help it. In my mind, it felt like being called someone who just does things without using their brain.

The feedback was anonymous, so I had no way to know who said it or why. Maybe they explained their reasoning, but all I could focus on was that conclusion. It stung deeply. As a product designer, there was so much thinking in my design process—how could someone say I didn’t think?

I didn’t brush off this comment. Instead, I took it to heart and kept questioning myself because of it. And so, it troubled me for years.

I kept asking myself: Was I really just someone who acts without thinking? Did I never think things through carefully enough?

Perhaps because I was the only designer on my team at the time, with no mentor to help me work through these questions, I had to figure it out on my own. That loneliness made it linger even longer.

The truth is, I am someone who takes action. I actively think of ways to approach problems. When learning something new, I like to run little experiments, build something first, then reflect and summarize.

But I also noticed that some colleagues had a very different way of thinking. They could quickly identify the core of a problem and immediately lay out a clear framework. For a long time, I thought that was an ability I could never reach.

I realized I worked better by listing things out. When facing a problem, I would gather specific examples and cases, lay out possible solutions, and then pull them together into a framework. It seemed like the opposite of how they thought.

For a while, this made me feel less capable.

It wasn’t until later that I truly understood: it wasn’t that I couldn’t think—we just had different paths of thinking. We all have methods that work best for us. There’s no point in forcing ourselves into someone else’s approach. You can’t force a square peg into a round hole.

I also discovered that because my method starts from details, I notice things others might miss at first. Gradually, I was no longer “the person who just gets things done.” I began bringing together product, design, and engineering teams, connecting different voices. My bias for action wasn’t a weakness anymore. It became a strength.

As these realizations deepened, that old comment would occasionally resurface in my mind, but I had already made peace with it: I love taking action. I just needed to learn to communicate my thinking process more clearly. When I’m working, I am thinking. I just don’t start with a fully formed framework. I’m more of a builder. I clarify my thoughts through the process of doing.

Looking back now, maybe that colleague wasn’t trying to label me at all. Maybe they were just saying I needed to make my thought process more visible. But because it was anonymous 360 feedback, I had no chance to understand what they actually meant. So I interpreted “doer not a thinker” as “you don’t think,” and it was me who let those words trouble me for years.

I’ve realized that labels often aren’t forced on us by others. We accept them and let them stick ourselves. When we lack confidence, a single comment can grow into a definition in our minds, and we use it to doubt ourselves, to limit ourselves.

Looking back, I was so hurt because I too easily believed what others said about me, treating it as the complete truth about who I was. But the truth is, what others see and say about us is only based on one small glimpse they get.

It’s like an iceberg. What we show others is always just the small part above the water, while so much more of who we are stays hidden below. And even that visible part, different people standing at different angles see different sides of us.

More importantly, there’s no such thing as the “one right way” to work.

Sure, I still sometimes admire people who can instantly grasp the essence of a problem and lay out a clear framework. But now I understand: everyone’s experiences are different, what they’ve learned is different. Why should I force myself to be just like them? Besides, what works for them might not work for me. If I can gather examples, experiment, and then pull together a framework, that approach works just as well.

Now, when I sense myself starting to take someone’s feedback as a label, I catch myself much faster. I’ll think about why they might have that impression, but I won’t doubt myself or rush to change. Each person only sees one side. I can consider it, but I won’t be defined by it.

Reflecting on this experience, I understand how deeply labels can affect someone—especially someone who isn’t yet confident in themselves.

That’s why, in raising my children, I pay special attention to making sure not labeling them. Instead, I let them discover themselves through trying, through finding their own way.

Everyone’s growth path is different. Don’t let others’ labels define you.

This is what I want to say to my younger self, and what I want to pass on to my kids as they grow.

I asked, “What can we do about it?”

She answered, “Clean up,” and started putting the toys back one by one.

In that moment, I had several options: tell her “clean up now,” help her do it, or get upset. But I chose to ask her a question and let her figure it out herself.

Similar situations happen often. When milk spills on the floor or something drops, she calls for us. I often resist the urge to tell her what to do directly and instead ask, “Oh no, what should we do?” She usually responds with “wipe it” or “pick it up.”

I’m not saying directly giving answers is wrong, but I’ve found that guiding through questions helps her think things through and reach her own conclusions. Over time, she’s forming habits: pick up what drops, wipe up spills, clean up scattered toys. These actions come from her, not from my commands. As she grows older, especially when facing challenges, she’ll think about what she can do rather than waiting for someone to tell her the answer.

The book Humble Inquiry talks about how those in positions of authority need to be careful about directly commanding those without authority. I think this especially applies to parent-child relationships.

When children are young, we can use force to make them comply. But if parents constantly say “you should do this or that”, children become dependent, feeling they don’t need to think for themselves. Plus, this “should” type of expression easily triggers defensiveness—the first reaction is often to resist the command rather than accept it.

I’ve noticed that if I say “you should put the toys away,” my toddler might say “no” or drag her feet. But if I say “wow, so many toys on the floor, it’s so messy. What can we do?” she’s much more willing to clean up.

When guiding through questions, the key is staying curious about how my child will respond rather than having a preset answer in my head. For example, when we discover it’s raining outside and I ask, “It’s raining. What can we do?” she might say “wear a hat,” “splash in puddles,” or even “stay home.” If I just tell her “put on rain boots and get an umbrella,” not only does she lose the chance to think, but I also miss the opportunity to understand what’s on her mind.

More importantly, when we ask “what do you think we can do,” we’re not just treating her as an independent person capable of thinking—we’re building trust between us. When a child feels her parents respect and believe in her rather than commanding and controlling her, she’s more willing to cooperate and more willing to seek help when facing difficulties instead of hiding problems. Even though my toddler is still very young, this respect leaves an impression, letting her know she’s capable of solving problems.

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Honestly, this approach takes constant practice. When we are in a rush, saying “hurry up and put on your shoes” is definitely faster. When she’s not doing something well, it’s hard not to just give her the answer. But we do our best to immerse her in this environment of independent thinking. For example, when she doesn’t like eating vegetables and gets a bit constipated, we ask, “How can we make poop softer?” At first, she might just repeat what we’ve said—“drink water, eat vegetables, soft poop”. Gradually, she would start thinking and understanding why these ideas and which of them work best for her, and act accordingly. This is a long-term process that requires patience, giving her time to think and try. That matters far more for her growth than saving a few minutes.

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I had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days because of my C-section procedure. On the morning of surgery, I was sitting in bed getting fetal heart monitoring when I noticed a whiteboard across from me. At the top, it said “Huddle Board,” and below that it clearly listed my name, my husband’s name, the attending doctor, and other information.

Seeing the word “Huddle” made me smile—that’s what we call our team meetups when we’re developing software!

Looking back now, this whole C-section process showed me how an efficient system works, with my surgery being like one project running inside this bigger system.

How the system works

My surgery went really well, and my recovery has been smooth so far. If I think of this surgery as a project, it worked so well because this hospital has built a well-trained, efficient system. Each medical person plays different roles in this system—nurses might handle several rooms at once, midwives have other jobs during regular hours, anesthesiologists work with different departments, but when there’s a C-section surgery, they all smoothly switch into their specific roles for this project.

It’s just like an efficient software development system. Tasks move from planning to design to development to testing, and each stage has someone clearly in charge. My C-section procedure worked the same way: from getting ready for surgery to the actual operation to recovery afterward, each stage had different people in charge who worked efficiently together.

Stage one: Getting ready for surgery

The main people in this stage were scheduling staff, obstetricians, and nurses. Someone called me to set up meetings with the obstetrician about different delivery options; someone sent me detailed preparation instructions, explaining exactly how to clean and sterilize before surgery; someone else scheduled the surgery time.

On surgery day, I showed up at the scheduled time and immediately had a nurse come greet me—she was my main contact person for this stage. She took me to a room that was already set up and started monitoring my baby’s heartbeat and checking my condition. This room was just for pre-surgery prep and watching patients for two hours after surgery; recovery happened in a different room. The division of work was really clear.

That Huddle Board really caught my attention. As a patient lying in bed, all the information I needed right away was written clearly where I could see it easily.

Stage two: The surgery

The surgical team included the obstetrician, anesthesiologist, nurses, and a midwife. Before surgery, each of these key people came to talk with me one-on-one, switching from their other jobs in the system to focus on my “project.” The anesthesiologist was especially thorough since we were meeting for the first time. He carefully explained what would happen and what risks were involved. I’ve noticed that healthcare in America works this way: they clearly explain the pros, cons, risks, and chances of different options, but the final decision is mine, as the patient.

During surgery, I was awake the whole time and could hear them talking to each other. The anesthesiologist kept calling out updates about my condition, and nurses gave real-time feedback on different measurements, making sure I stayed stable throughout. I really liked this open communication.

Stage three: Recovery

After surgery, they moved me to a postpartum room, which had two whiteboards. The side of the bed still had a large Huddle Board clearly showing basic information about me, my husband, and baby. Right across from my bed was another whiteboard where I could see immediate information: my current nurse’s name and important check-up and medication schedules. Since I needed to take several pain medications at different times, the nurse would write down medication names and timing, so I could easily keep track.

The main people in charge of this stage were postpartum nurses, who checked on me regularly and took care of both me and my newborn. The room also had necessary equipment, such as blood pressure monitors, pulse oximeters, and computers, so nurses could check my condition and record everything directly in the software system.

As someone receiving care from this system, I found the whole postpartum experience very thoughtful. Most of the time, I needed to stay in bed because I couldn’t move around much. For things like changing the baby’s diaper, I could use the call button on the bed to ask for nurse help; I could also order and eat meals right from bed, which was really convenient.

Before I left, a nurse did a detailed check, including making sure we were using the newborn’s car seat correctly. She gave me thorough instructions for taking care of the baby and my own recovery. More importantly, she clearly explained what situations would mean I needed to call a doctor or go to the emergency room, and all follow-up appointments were already scheduled. This meant for several weeks after going home, I didn’t need to worry about organizing these things.

Smooth handoffs between staff

During my hospital stay, because nurses work in shifts, I worked with over ten different nurses. What was amazing was how smoothly I communicated with each one.

I noticed that nurses did standardized verbal handoffs. While I didn’t see this process directly, several nurses told me things like “the previous nurse told me your situation is…” which showed that verbal handoffs are a really important part of this system.

Besides verbal handoffs, electronic records are also key to how efficiently the system works. This information isn’t just in the hospital’s internal system, I could also see each nurse’s notes about me through the hospital app on my phone. I really liked this transparency.

Tools that support the system

Besides these professional and efficient medical staff, the physical equipment and software tools are also important foundations that support how the whole system works. For equipment, each room had blood pressure monitors and pulse oximeters ready to use, so nurses didn’t need to bring them each time; for software, each room also had computers where staff could log in with their IDs and record patient information directly.

The software they use is made by a company called Epic Systems, which built electronic medical information systems for hospital staff and matching websites and mobile apps for patients. Epic’s system isn’t just for recording—it supports information flow throughout the whole medical system, letting each project (patient) move efficiently through the system. In this system, nurses’ notes get stored in a database that I as a patient can also access through my account. Some information, like medical history and vaccination records, also gets shared with other medical institutions, making it easy for connected facilities to reference when analyzing patient conditions later.

Thoughts on generative AI applications

With generative artificial intelligence making big changes across industries, I’ve been wondering where it might be useful in complex medical systems like this.

AI applications in these systems could work in different ways: some might only affect specific processes, while others might impact how the whole system operates. But I think when considering AI applications, we need to think systematically, looking not just at direct improvements but also considering possible effects on other processes. For example, how to help systems better predict and allocate resources, or how to make information flow more smoothly between different stages. This could include giving analysis and alerts to doctors and nurses based on patient conditions, or helping with backend staff scheduling when monitoring data shows problems. While I was in my room, the nurse taking care of me had to quickly check on me and then rush off because another patient had high blood pressure. If AI could analyze the overall situation ahead of time and help coordinate staffing, the whole system might work even better.

However, in healthcare, any automation has to be completely accurate. I’ve had automated systems get my baby’s vaccination appointment times wrong, and I had to call to fix it—this kind of mistake is totally unacceptable in medical systems.

What this taught me about systematic thinking

My C-section went so smoothly not because any particular stage was amazing, but because the whole system worked well together. Everyone was professional and efficient, knowing exactly what to do and when, and understanding how to work with others throughout the system.

This experience really showed me the power of an efficient system. As a user experience designer, I need to remember that any design is part of a bigger system, requiring me to think about what comes before and after it and how it works with the whole setup. This reminds me to think from a higher level when designing, making sure users have good experiences at every point in their journey.

A few times, she came over asking, “What are you doing, Mommy?” I told her, “Mommy’s washing your underwear.” After watching me several times, she wanted to help too, always trying to grab the underwear while I was washing. So I started walking her through each step: wet the underwear, put soap on it, then rub it with my hands.

One day, Dad was supervising potty time when she had another accident. He put the soiled underwear in the sink and stepped out briefly. When he came back, there she was, standing on her little stool, carefully soaping up the underwear.

“What are you doing?” Dad asked.

“This is soap for washing underwear,” she said seriously.

“Do you know how to scrub?”

She picked up the underwear with her tiny hands and started scrubbing back and forth.

Dad was thrilled: “You’re so awesome! Mommy and Daddy never did things like this when we were little.”

She has surprised us in so many other ways too. When she was really little, she started helping us unload the dishwasher, brush the dogs’ teeth, put the dogs in their crates, and even try to wash herself. Every time she does something like this, we make sure to praise her.

My husband reflected, “She’s becoming exactly how we praise her to be.” He shared how his own mother would always tell people “my son is wonderful” - and he grew up to be the person she said he was.

Kids can tell when praise is genuine. Consistent positive recognition helps them develop a self-image: I’m worthy of praise, I should feel proud of myself.

There’s something in my culture about staying humble, like pointing out what needs improvement matters more than celebrating what’s good. It’s like looking at a half-full glass - many people automatically see what’s missing, while we try to first notice what’s already there.

This mindset helps us be more patient with our daughter, and also kinder to ourselves and each other. We notice our own wins, our family’s strengths, and our child’s progress - and we’re generous with recognition.

Of course, when she really doesn’t do something well, we focus on problem-solving. If something breaks, we think about how to clean it up and prevent it next time, rather than dwelling on the mistake itself.

How we act as parents really shapes our kids’ growth. This is the first environment they experience after birth, and our attitudes deeply influence how they see themselves.

These little people are trying everything for the first time. When we approach what they do with patience and positivity, we’re sending a clear message: you’re accepted, your efforts matter.

How we see our children quietly shapes who they become.

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As my daughter approaches three, she’s becoming increasingly opinionated. Gone are the days when she’d wear whatever we picked out—now if a piece of clothing isn’t the right color, she flat-out refuses. Sometimes we have no choice but to negotiate: “Do you want the red one or the blue one?” If she rejects both options, we let her have some space to cool off.

As her thinking becomes more independent, these moments requiring negotiation are happening more and more. Two recent incidents have given us better insight into what kids this age are going through.

1. The blanket battle

She has one blanket on her bed and another on the rug next to it. One day, despite having a slight cold, she insisted on sleeping on the rug. Since sleeping on the floor would only make her cold worse, we removed the blanket from the rug.

She had an instant meltdown. When we told her the blanket was in the wash, she immediately ran to the laundry room door, determined to get it back. After much back-and-forth, I tried a different approach: “Actually, I haven’t washed it yet. I can give you this blanket, but you need to sleep in your bed tonight—sleeping on the floor will make your cold worse.”

She was reluctant but still wanted that specific blanket. When she wanted to move it to her bed, I said, “If you want to switch it, you’ll have to do it yourself. You can’t expect Mom and Dad to help you rearrange blankets every time.”

She said helplessly, “I can’t pull it.” Her logic was actually quite clear: she couldn’t do it herself and needed our help.

But since we weren’t willing to do it, that opened up room for negotiation. We eventually reached a compromise: she would sleep in her bed, and I would spread the other blanket on the rug.

2. The breakfast standoff

Another morning, running short on time before dropping her off at school and heading to a doctor’s appointment, I heated up a red bean bun for breakfast. But our stubborn little one kept insisting: “I want scallion pancake.”

When I explained there wasn’t time to heat the frozen pancake, she had a complete meltdown. Finally I said, “Mommy has to see the doctor and can’t wait for you. You’ll stay home with Daddy.” Then I left. When I returned home later, I found her quietly playing with toys next to her dad, in a pretty good mood.

Dad filled me in on what happened: “She sat at the dining table by herself, calling out to anyone who would listen, and when she realized no one was responding to her protests, she climbed onto the table, ate the red bean bun, drank her milk, then came over and stuck to me.”

Sometimes giving kids a cooling-off period is necessary. When she’s overly emotional, she can’t hear anything beyond what she wants, but when no one responds to her “protests,” she’ll often figure out how to solve the problem herself.

When emotions are running high, kids need to calm down first—otherwise they won’t listen to anything. As parents, we’re much more level-headed than our children, so we can use different strategies to help them process their emotions before attempting real communication.

Tag-teaming as parents is crucial. When the same person handles these situations repeatedly, frustration builds up. My husband and I take turns during these moments—stepping back helps restore our patience.

Understanding the characteristics of each developmental stage is also important. When she’s developing independent thinking skills, it’s natural for her to stubbornly stick to certain ideas, like insisting on using a specific water bottle. Sometimes if it doesn’t matter, we let her have her way, but when we can’t accommodate her demands, we need to find other ways to guide her, for example talking different topics to distract her, keeping her little brain too busy to focus on the original demand, then guide her in a different direction.

We’ve noticed these negotiation moments are becoming more frequent—especially as we try to respect her growing independence. While it doesn’t always go smoothly, we usually manage to find a middle ground where both sides can compromise a little.

But I never do.

She can’t read yet, so all lyrics are just sounds she picks up from listening. She sings with such joy, and I think that happiness matters more than getting every word “right.”

During dinner once, she watched me put two pieces of apple in my mouth and said seriously, “Mama, don’t put two pieces in your mouth.” I laughed and replied, “Mama’s mouth is big, I can eat them together.” She said “Oh.”

She had established her own “correct” way of eating apples - one small piece at a time, chewing slowly. When she tells me or daddy we’re doing something “wrong,” we tell her, “You have your way, and we have ours.”

I think being obsessed with what’s “right” is actually dangerous. Once we decide there’s only one correct way to do something, we create rigid standards that constrain not only ourselves but also how we judge others. Some children completely melt down when they write a letter wrong, get upset when they put shoes on the wrong feet, or refuse to try again after falling off a scooter. Parents usually comfort them with “it’s okay” and offer to demonstrate the right way, but children often become more resistant. Behind this might be the child feeling pressure that they “must get it right.”

I also have the urge to correct my daughter, but I try to hold back. Children have their own rhythm - if she hears songs enough, she’ll naturally adjust over time. I’m more curious about her interesting “mistakes” than rushing to give the right answer.

For example, she sometimes says “woof” instead of “wool” because she knows woof is the sound dogs make. In her world, these two words are the same.

Many standards we consider “correct” happened to be defined by certain people at certain times. Letters must be written this way, songs must be sung that way - these rules might matter to those who made them, but they don’t necessarily apply to little ones still exploring the world.

Since she turned eighteen months, my daughter’s desire to do things independently has grown stronger. Our approach is simple: if she wants to try something herself, we let her, and ask “Do you need help?” If she says yes, we help; if not, even if she gets a little frustrated, we resist the urge to jump in.

As parents, helping her get things done is easy for us. But some things she can only learn by trying herself, failing a few times, and practicing over and over. That’s how she gets real satisfaction. She does not have to get things “right” the very first time.

I remember growing up with “following the prescribed path” as the default life route: get good grades to be a good student, go to college for a good future. But life actually has many paths. Just like organizing clothes - some people like throwing everything together and finding things like treasure hunting; others prefer folding everything neatly. Finding what works for you is enough; no need to worry about what’s more “correct.”

Thinking of my daughter lost in her own version of songs, swaying happily - that’s enough. Enjoying the process is more interesting than chasing the “right” answer.

Before going on maternity leave, I started communicating with relevant colleagues about project handovers two months in advance. Several important projects were at critical stages, so I created a detailed handover checklist that included project progress, meeting notes, design file links (both the latest versions and all historical versions), meeting recording folders, and more. Whenever the colleague taking over couldn’t attend project meetings, I would record them, upload the recordings to our shared folder, and send a message through Slack to remind them to check the meeting notes and recordings.

Additionally, as the user experience designer representative, I attended a bi-weekly meeting. However, the final meeting conflicted with one of my important projects, and I couldn’t attend. Since I was going on maternity leave afterward and our team was already short-staffed, no one else could cover for me. Instead of simply saying “I can’t make it,” I emailed the meeting organizer, copying my manager, to let them know that my manager would be the point of contact for any follow-up questions. The meeting organizer replied: “Thanks for letting us know—you keep us informed, as you always do.” My manager also picked up the thread, saying that she would organize follow up meetings to learn about their needs.

Being thoughtful is important at work. I can’t just think about my own situation—I need to consider my stakeholders. Otherwise, if I leave a gap, how would they know who to contact?

Looking back at these experiences, I’ve come to realize that proactive communication is an essential workplace skill.

What is proactive communication?

Proactive communication isn’t about talking more—it’s about actively sharing key information at the right time and in the right way. It involves three aspects:

• Advance notice: Before starting something, let relevant people know your plans

• Progress updates: During the process, promptly sync on progress and any issues encountered

• Results feedback: After completion, actively report outcomes

My husband is also excellent at proactive communication. His manager once described him this way: “I always know what he’s working on.” This sounds simple, but it reflects the true value of proactive communication.

Communication in cross-team collaboration

Cross-team collaboration is probably one of the most complex communication scenarios in the workplace. I encountered this situation when I first joined my current company.

I joined a team working in a domain completely unfamiliar to me, and I started in May but needed to deliver a redesigned system interface by December. This project involved four different backend engineering teams, each responsible for different modules, while I, as the designer, needed to integrate these modules into a unified user experience.

The frontend and backend coordination was somewhat chaotic at the time, and the project lacked proper management. If I didn’t take the initiative to coordinate, this project would likely spiral out of control. Think about it—if I had just focused on my own design work without communicating with other teams:

• I might have discovered at the end that my design couldn’t be implemented because the backend APIs didn’t support it

• Each team would develop at their own pace, and by integration time, nothing would align

• No one would know the overall progress, and project delays wouldn’t be flagged in advance

• Worst case scenario: come December, we would end up with a patchwork half-product

So I proactively took on the role of a part-time project manager. Besides quickly learning the technical knowledge in this field, the first thing I did was meeting with the key project leads (product manager, engineering manager, frontend tech lead) to understand their progress and challenges. I then organized several brainstorming sessions to have them “dump” everything in their heads about how users would use our product and the workflow steps.

After that, I discovered they hadn’t established clear module delivery timelines, so I organized another discussion session. I created a timeline working backwards from the launch time: if we needed to deliver in December, what needed to be completed in November and October, all the way to the current month. During the discussion, I shared my screen the entire time so everyone could weigh in on any timeline item. I also learned which modules I needed to track while designing and which code freeze periods to avoid.

I also suggested weekly check-ins so everyone could stay aligned on task progress according to this timeline. Later, the frontend engineer team made a tracker for their task schedules based on this timeline, helping us maintain better consistency in user interface delivery.

This proactive communication and coordination really worked. We delivered the project on time and with high quality, and in subsequent improvements, the system design held up well with excellent extensibility. Years later, when one of the engineering managers and I were chatting and this project was mentioned, he said: “You saved our project back then.”

Hearing this made me happy, but I wasn’t surprised—when I delivered high-quality work and proactively took on communication and coordination responsibilities, I began building trust within the team. And once this trust was established, its impact was far-reaching. In engineering-focused tech teams, user experience designers can easily be overlooked, and I often found myself excluded from important meetings. But through proactive communication and high-quality delivery, I gradually moved away from being marginalized. Recently, an engineer (I’m no longer on that team) reached out to me, saying they were reorganizing their technical documentation and thought I might have some insights, so he sent me the document to review. I realized that once I had established influence, even after leaving that team, people would still think of me and actively seek my input.

Communication in managing up

“Manage up” means a person should not only manage themselves well but also “manage” their supervisors. This might sound strange, but it makes perfect sense.

Generally, a manager oversees at least 3-4 people, and in large companies, possibly more than 10. They simply cannot know what each person is specifically working on. If employees don’t proactively report, managers can only judge their work based on impressions. Worse yet, when problems arise, they might be completely unaware until it’s too late to remedy the situation.

How exactly does managing up work? Simply put, apply the proactive communication model mentioned above:

• Before doing: Tell them what you’re going to do

• While doing: Tell them what you’re currently doing

• After doing: Tell them what you’ve completed

This way, managers can stay informed about their team’as work status without having to micromanage like a parent.

I have a 30-minute one-on-one meeting with my manager every week, and I always prepare my topics in advance in a shared document. When the meeting starts, if he has something to discuss, he goes first; if not (which is most of the time), we go through my prepared items one by one. This way, I’m essentially driving our conversation rather than passively waiting for his instructions.

Also, when facing work challenges, I proactively seek help from my superiors. For example, we once worked on a metrics report that was very useful but extremely labor-intensive—the first time I led two other designers through it, the three of us each spent about four weeks on average, and we all had other projects to work on. This was unsustainable long-term.

So I held a discussion session with the other two designers to document all our pain points in creating the report. Then I met with my manager and skip manager to discuss options to simplify it. As a result, the next time we created the report, we successfully cut three weeks. While not huge, it was a step closer to being sustainable. If we had just powered through the second time, we could have completed the report, but I knew I would have felt extremely frustrated during the process. Rather than endure those feelings, I chose to proactively seek change. As it turned out, we spent less time and achieved good results.

Why is proactive communication important?

Behind proactive communication is actually a sense of ownership. When I treat projects as my own responsibility rather than “tasks assigned by the company,” I naturally want to be part of the big picture and ensure all components run smoothly. This mindset shift is important—from “I’m only responsible for my part” to “my part also affects the success of the entire project.”

This ownership mentality is what drives me to proactively coordinate timelines with various teams, thoughtfully plan maternity leave handovers in detail, and challenge existing workflows for team efficiency.

I’ve found that lacking proactive communication leads to:

• Work achievements being overlooked and efforts going unrecognized

• Fighting battles alone when facing difficulties, missing opportunities for help

• Inefficient team collaboration with duplicated work and frequent misunderstandings

• Being marginalized during organizational restructuring or project adjustments

This is very different from school and family life. In school, teachers provide guidance; at home, parents offer reminders. But once a person starts working, their career development becomes entirely in their own hands. By proactively taking charge of communication, I can build influence within projects and better control my career trajectory.

Moreover, as AI tools become more prevalent, many technical jobs might be replaced, but soft skills like communication cannot be fully replaced by AI. In countless situations, work still requires human-to-human communication to move forward. These soft skills are incredibly valuable—they not only help us do our jobs better but also enable us to build our own influence at work. And this influence is one of the most precious assets in our careers.

I remember shortly after we got married, I slipped and broke a stack of bowls. When the crash echoed through the room, I froze completely. My husband rushed over and his first words were: “Don’t move, be careful not to cut your feet.” Then he crouched down with me to clean up the pieces, without a single complaint or word of blame.

Over all these years, every time I’ve messed something up—burned a dish, ruined rice, broken something—his reaction is always “let’s just cook it again” or “it’s fine, we’ll eat it like this.” I’ve tried to remember, and I really can’t recall him ever criticizing me for these things.

Now it’s my turn. When our daughter spills water everywhere, I show her how to mop it up; when glass breaks, I demonstrate how to clean it safely. No complaints, no blame, just calmly solving the problem.

I hope that in her memory, the first words she hears after making a mistake will always be concern, not criticism—that she won’t fear facing failures and mistakes, but will bravely take responsibility.

Watching our daughter grow day by day, seeing her start to treat the world the way we treat her, I often think about how these seemingly insignificant daily moments are actually shaping a person. Just like how my husband has influenced me over these years—quietly, yet so profoundly.

Time flies so fast—we’ve been married for so many years now. The rhythm between everyone in our family keeps getting better and better. I’ve become more confident, brave, and steady. I can say with certainty that since becoming an adult, my husband has been the person who’s influenced me most in becoming who I am today.

About my husband

My husband and I are different in so many ways. I’m generally someone who follows plans and sticks to routines. My path growing up was pretty typical—good at school, especially quiet as a child, and generally what adults would call well-behaved and pretty obedient. His path was completely different from mine: his experience boarding at school from a young age developed his independence and incredible adaptability. He’s principled yet spontaneous, with unexpected ideas always popping into his head.

At first, I wasn’t used to these differences at all—I thought he was way too unpredictable. But the longer we were together, the more I started to find this “unconventional approach” really interesting. When my plans got thrown off by his sudden ideas, though I had panics at first, we would often end up seeing completely different possibilities because of it. Gradually, I not only adapted to this rhythm, I even started looking forward to what new ideas he would bring. His way of thinking began subtly influencing me, making me more willing to try things outside my plans.

Sometimes I think he’s like a relaxed leopard. A leopard on the savanna appears to lounge lazily in the grass, but once it spots its prey, it leaps up and pursues that target with complete focus. When my husband has a clear goal, he puts all his energy into pursuing it. Whether it’s studying, changing careers, work, or home projects like replacing the air conditioner, expanding rooms, dealing with wasps, fixing plumbing, or taking care of our daughter—he puts his full attention on each thing he wants to do and always gets it done. I really admire this about him.

[Image: Husband fixing the garage door]

Recently, he noticed I was relying on my memory for taking vitamins and medications, sometimes getting frustrated when I forgot. So he developed a medication reminder iPhone app that’s convenient and simple—I use it every day now. Inspired by him, I also made a little app for our daughter to play with.

My husband’s devotion to family has deeply influenced me too. I used to be quite a workaholic, working to the point of neglecting everything else, not really understanding how he felt about things. But he’s really good at considering my feelings and puts our relationship and family needs first.

I remember years ago, my company division was acquired and my position was eliminated. Since I was on a work visa, I had limited time to find another job and had to focus completely on job searching. After more than a month, I finally got a job offer—I was both relieved and exhausted. I told my husband I really wanted to relax and go to Disney World.

At the time, my husband was approaching finals and had exams coming up, but he didn’t hesitate to say we should take a break and go. During our Disney trip, he brought his computer along, playing with me during the day and doing assignments at night. As for his classes during those days—he skipped them all. Missing so much class did affect his grade in one course, but he chose to support me when I really needed it.

After we had our daughter, he switched from a job that required daily office attendance to a fully remote position, giving him more flexible time and better coordination with family activities.

There have been so many moments like this in our life. Sometimes I tell my husband how grateful I am for his support. He always laughs and says, “What else would I do? Of course I would.”

Gradually, I caught up with his pace and learned to shift my attention from being completely focused on work to our little family. I started supporting him better, and we began taking better care of each other’s thoughts and feelings, finding a rhythm that really works for us.

60-60 marriage

We’ve never had a strict “you do this, I do that” arrangement. Overall, our division of labor is pretty equal, just not clearly defined—basically whoever’s available handles it. He cooks delicious food and takes care of most of our lunches and dinners. For breakfast, since it conflicts with his work schedule, I usually just throw something simple together.

A long time ago, he told me his life philosophy: when you’re walking through the house and see something that can be done easily, just do it without making a big deal about telling the other person you did extra or helped them out. For example, if one of us sees clean dishes in the dishwasher and has time, just put them away. If we’re both tired, we’ll leave it a bit longer until we feel like doing it—no big deal.

In the workplace, we emphasize clear responsibilities, individual accountability, and measurable performance. Everyone has their own job description with clearly defined duties, and there are year-end performance reviews to see who accomplished which KPIs. This management approach works well at work—it ensures projects move forward smoothly and prevents people from passing the buck.

But marriage isn’t the workplace. If you bring that “fair division of labor” and “performance evaluation” mindset home, it actually makes the relationship tense. Imagine if we had to write a “household responsibility list”: husband handles trash, plumbing, active play with kid; I handle laundry, organizing, arts and crafts with kid, then sit down monthly to review who did more or less—how exhausting would that be?

Family life is full of variables—sometimes someone gets sick, sometimes work gets crazy busy, sometimes the kid is particularly fussy. If we had to stick strictly to “divisions of labor,” we couldn’t flexibly handle these unexpected situations. More importantly, much of the “work” in a family can’t be quantified: whose hugs are warmer? Who tells more interesting bedtime stories? Who says more healing words when the other person is down? These can’t be measured by KPIs, yet they’re the most important things for family happiness.

I came across an article about “60-60 marriage,” which said couples don’t need clearly defined divisions of labor in marriage. What’s important is both people actively doing more for the family rather than insisting on “fair” divisions. If one person keeps track of what they’ve done and expects the other to do equivalent tasks to be fair—so each contributes exactly 50%—then naturally both will start keeping score of who’s contributed enough and who hasn’t, which easily leads to conflict. However, if both people have the mindset of doing a bit more for the family—each contributing 60%, even just a little more than 50%—life becomes easier and both become more understanding, willing to do more for each other and the family.

After reading this article, I was really struck—so there really is a name for this! We’d been doing exactly this all along, no wonder our relationship feels so easy. At lunch he’ll ask what I want to eat and go out of his way to make it for me; at night when I’m brushing my teeth and see he hasn’t brushed yet, I’ll squeeze toothpaste on his brush and hand it to him. I think our daughter has picked up on how Mommy and Daddy interact—now at the supermarket she’ll grab bags on her own to help us carry fruit.

With caring for our daughter, we continue this “whoever’s available” approach. When he’s free, he plays with her; when I’m free, I do. We don’t keep track of who spent how much time. Unless our little one is particularly clingy with one of us, then the other person makes an effort to spend more time with her. We each have our own ways of being with her: I do crafts, draw, and play with toys with her, while he takes her to parks and hiking. These different approaches aren’t right or wrong—they’re all good.

This probably explains why we didn’t need a nanny or helper when our daughter was born—this household was never just one person doing all the work. Before she was born, we made tons of dumplings and buns together and prepared lots of meals that just needed reheating. The moment our baby was born, he immediately learned from the nurses how to do everything from swaddling to diaper changes to feeding. After we came home, when I couldn’t move around easily, he basically handled all the baby care.

Now our daughter, under our guidance, is gradually becoming independent and self-reliant. From eating independently and sleep training to making decisions on her own, this gives us great confidence facing the arrival of our second baby.

Over time, whether in big or small matters, we naturally support each other. Especially when one of us isn’t feeling well or is going through a tough time, the other person ends up doing way more, but we don’t expect payback to be fair.

But we’re not mind readers—we don’t always know what the other needs. When he needs help, he tells me directly. If it’s something complicated, like when we were expanding our house, he would clearly explain how I could best help him. I used to not get this and would expect him to automatically sense what I needed. But now I’ve learned to communicate directly too, saying things like “I need to go nap, can you watch the baby for a bit” or “can you unload the dishwasher.” This way we have normal communication—help if you can, don’t if you can’t. No hiding needs and expecting the other person to guess your thoughts. I might have thought mind-reading was normal before, but looking back, that was such an exhausting way to live—why bother? What’s wrong with just saying what you need? Honest communication makes both of us way more relaxed.

Because of him, I’ve become more mature and independent

Through these years with my husband, I’ve realized I have a much more independent sense of self. Beyond having lots of space to do our own things, what’s more important is a shift in mindset.

Respecting each other’s boundaries

In getting to know my husband, I’ve gradually come to understand and appreciate his clear sense of boundaries. He really respects my independent personality and way of doing things, never trying to change me. For instance, I like making plans and following steps—he never says “you’re too rigid” or “just relax.” When I get hung up on small things for a long time, he’ll patiently listen to me talk it through, then offer some suggestions, but whether I take his advice is completely up to me.

At first, I’d try to “help” him become more organized, but this often created tension between us. Later I realized he has his own style and rhythm for doing things, and I have my own methods. Since he never tries to change me, why should I try to change him? We learned to accept each other’s styles and adjust when needed. This way of being together is so much more relaxed.

As our daughter grows, she’s also developing this sense of boundaries. We started having her sleep in her own room early on, telling her “baby sleeps in baby’s room, Mommy and Daddy sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s room.” Sometimes when she can’t sleep, she’ll come out of her room, and we’ll hear her little feet pattering back and forth. Sometimes her footsteps stop in front of our door, but she won’t just open it and come in—sometimes she’ll stand there for a while then walk away. We don’t proactively open the door either. Watching her like this, I feel like she’s learning to respect other people’s space while also trying to handle her own emotions and needs.

Come to think of it, my husband’s sense of boundaries is also kind of a family tradition. Because of his early experience boarding at school, he gained the autonomy his family gave him from a young age—they didn’t micromanage everything, giving him lots of space to grow. This gradually built up everyone’s sense of boundaries.

My mother-in-law treats us the same way now. Over these years, she’s lived with us for almost a year total, and never once interfered with how we do things, especially respecting our parenting approach. For some of our ways of doing things, as someone from an older generation, she has different views, but she chooses to look the other way. For example, when we were sleep training our baby, if it wasn’t out-of-control crying, we’d let her cry for a while before stepping in. During these times, my mother-in-law couldn’t bear to listen, but she understood it was a necessary process, so she’d put on headphones or just go out for a walk. She’ll share experiences from her generation with me, but never in a demanding tone telling me I should do things a certain way—it’s more like casual conversation. We can have peaceful chats about our different thoughts. If I disagree she’ll smoothly say “all roads lead to Rome” and we move on.

I think this is just how their family operates—trusting family members’ abilities and giving each other enough space and respect. So during her visits, I feel completely comfortable because I can be 100% myself.

No longer depending on outside validation

I’m naturally very organized, efficient, and detail-oriented, but in my early career right after school, I was often insecure and needed recognition from family and supervisors to feel valuable. When I didn’t get this recognition, I would feel like a total failure. Sometimes when I accomplished something, I’d tell my husband and he’d give me some encouraging words.

But he also once told me: “Your excellence isn’t built on other people’s approval—it’s like how a substance’s chemical properties are determined by internal factors.” That’s just how he is, not caring much about outside opinions, but it took me a long time to really understand what he meant. Through being with him and gaining more life experience, when I can do my best effort, I feel good about myself without needing to expect or crave others’ approval. This mindset has made me so much more relaxed.

I think this inner confidence has unconsciously passed to our daughter too. I remember one day at the park when she was climbing high, she suddenly said “I’m so good!” She wasn’t waiting for us to praise her—she was genuinely proud of her own achievement. Not only that, she often cheers for herself after accomplishing something: “I did it!” I’m so happy for her.

Learning to advocate for myself

Another thing I really admire about my husband is his willingness to stand up for himself. He worked in the service industry for a while, so he has high standards for customer service. When he encounters crappy service or people trying to brush him off, he’ll contact the service provider to protect his interests.

This was something I had almost never done before. I had all sorts of reasons for not wanting to: sometimes thinking “forget it, whatever you say goes,” not wanting to get into conflicts; sometimes not knowing how to respond and just staying quiet. But I don’t think this way anymore, because this is exactly about advocating for my own interests. If I can’t even make sure I get the service I’m paying for and just act all gracious about it, that’s actually not normal.

When I see him protecting his rights, I’m really supportive and admiring, and I hope someday I can always do the same without getting all worked up about it. I’ll admit, sometimes when I try to advocate for these rights now, I still feel a bit awkward, a bit pushy. But my thinking has totally changed: why should I just accept it? If I paid for a service, I need to understand what’s going on—if I don’t advocate for my own interests, who will?

This attitude is important in so many areas of life, from small things like being overcharged for something to bigger things like fighting for promotions at work or facing unfair treatment. I need to learn to do this myself and teach our daughter to do the same. This is a really important step in becoming independent.

Reflections

I increasingly love our life rhythm. Even with all the complexity of life and work, I can still maintain this sense of ease. This ease comes from clearly knowing where my life’s center is—family comes first, and everything else gets prioritized based on that. I have no doubt this can keep getting better and better, because as a team, we seem capable of accomplishing anything.

The most important thing for two people together is mutual support, protection, and admiration. When we admire each other, we can always think the best of each other and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes when we’re tired and don’t want to move, we just rest. When we feel like it, we tackle things together. People don’t need to keep themselves constantly wound up.

He truly deserves to be called the person who’s influenced me most positively since becoming an adult. We don’t have any grand long-term plans, but this flexible approach to life fills us with confidence. Living each day in this family, I feel like I’m always at my best, and that feeling itself is worth celebrating.

We also hope that through our subtle influence, our daughter will learn this relaxed yet steady approach to life.

Thank you for walking alongside me.

I found some old screenshots of apps I made during that iOS course. Looking at them brought back those painful programming memories:

I wasn’t expecting that after all these years, I would be able to build a small but complete iPhone app using Claude Code AI in just three nights — about 5-6 hours total. This app was made for my two-year-old to play with. She uses the camera to identify objects, and the app reads out what it recognizes. The app uses a small model for object recognition that’s quite limited with pretty poor accuracy, but she’s having a blast with it! She points her phone at our dog and fruits, carrying it around the house everywhere.

Watching my toddler play with this app was really interesting. I wasn’t sure if she would get bored or frustrated with the inaccurate object recognition — the same way I felt while building it. But to my surprise, she thought the mistakes were hilarious. For instance, when the app identified our little dog as a cat, instead of being disappointed, she burst into laughter and found it amusing. This made me realize that adults might think “Ugh, this recognition is so inaccurate, this app is useless,” so I totally didn’t expect her reaction to be completely different from mine. I guess that’s the value of user testing - sometimes users and product makers think very differently.

Building AI projects: taking small steps

Previously, I had experimented with ChatGPT, Cursor, and Visual Studio with AI plugins to build small projects like a simple web game, a Chinese character tracing React app, and a tic-tac-toe game on hardware. I experienced the amazing power of AI-assisted programming. This past year, AI programming tools have developed rapidly with comprehensive improvements in both technology and user experience. Recently, my husband has been enthusiastically using Anthropic’s Claude Code, so I wanted to try it too. This was my first experience with an AI programming tool that works entirely in the command line. It can fully control my project folder with incredibly high efficiency — I was blown away all over again.

I recently read advice from Andrew Ng, an AI pioneer, about building small AI projects, and it really clicked with me. He said that using AI to help with programming is now very common, so many ideas are much easier to implement than before. Don’t try to build something huge right away - start small, the smaller the better. Get it built first - we’ll feel accomplished, and if we want to modify or expand it, AI programming makes changes quite fast.

My app follows exactly this approach — its final functionality is small and simple enough. Open the camera, the app invites little ones to point the camera at different objects, then it automatically identifies items and displays the recognition results with confidence scores. Since she can’t read yet, I added Chinese-English voice switching and front/back camera switching. Just this simple little thing.

Actually, I initially wanted to make it more complex. If the object recognition part worked well, I wanted it to have conversations with my toddler, so she could learn about objects through interacting with the app, which would be more fun. But during testing, I found the small model YOLOv8 was really too limited - it can recognize at most around 80 types of objects. Many things couldn’t be successfully detected — it knew even less than my two-year-old daughter. Obviously there was no point making it more complex, let alone adding conversation features. As for switching to a different underlying model for more functionality, that’s for future versions.

I’m so grateful AI has made this process much more accessible and efficient, allowing me to quickly bring ideas to life. Using AI to build and test iteratively, discovering problems, then thinking about improvements — I really enjoy this process. I initially thought my idea of building an iPhone app was crazy, but I’m glad I tried. Getting it done in such a short time made me really happy.

The development experience

Regarding my specific development experience, Claude Code feels refreshingly different compared to traditional IDE programming environments. Although my interaction with Claude Code happens entirely in the command line without any other interface, I’m amazed by how deeply it understands my project files and how efficient it is. I allowed it to automatically code and save files, and also let it make any changes it deemed necessary in this project.

Below shows Claude Code listing its tasks and asking if I want to allow it to autonomously create folders. I chose the second option -- always allow:

Below shows Claude Code modifying existing code, marking the changes:

I didn’t look at the code throughout the process — I just told the AI my specific requirements, and it handled everything. If we think of this app-building process in terms of role-playing, I acted as the product manager and designer, while Claude Code was my software engineer completing all programming tasks. However, it can’t manipulate, Xcode the iOS programming environment, so I needed to manually add the project in Xcode, do necessary configurations, and feed AI error messages to fix the code.

The image below shows me following Claude Code’s guidance in the command line (left) to modify configurations in Xcode (center). When I couldn’t find what needed to be changed, I opened a new conversation in the Claude.ai interface (right) to ask, and with its help I found the solution. Actually, I could have asked directly in Claude Code, but I didn’t want extra questions to interrupt the guidance text it was showing me, so I just used another AI interface.

I had some amazing experiences - I never knew I could drag images directly into a command line, but Claude Code supports this! I made screenshot problems and dropped them in, and it could read the text in images and solve the issues. For larger tasks, it automatically created task lists and executed them step by step like a very organized programmer. The image below shows Claude Code working through its tasks one by one. I took a break during this time and came back to check its work:

Below is Claude Code telling me the project is ready for iPhone testing:

The longest time I spent on this project was probably configuring Xcode correctly. Xcode has some very counter-intuitive design that still requires manual intervention. Just figuring out which folder directory to put the model in and finding various configuration locations was maddening, but fortunately I had my AI companion, and I eventually got answers to all these questions from AI.

What will the world my toddler faces look like?

Since having my daughter, I love observing her behavioral reactions in various life scenarios and her interactions with my husband and me. I often wonder if I can create interesting things for her to play with. This is one of my great joys in parenting.

I also think about what kind of world she will face in the future. What kind of environment will her generation grow up in? What tools will they have? What will they be able to create? Maybe in the future they’ll think building an app like this is a piece of cake, but today we’re still exploring together with Generative AI that’s only a few years old.

I used to hear people say “I’ve walked more bridges than you’ve walked roads.” Those experiences and knowledge might have their value to some extent and can serve as reference, but to me, that’s a way of viewing the world as unchanging. Every era brings many changes, and every generation has new opportunities and experiences. No one knows what the future world will look like.

This is why I’m so curious about the future and can maintain an open mindset for learn new things and self-growth. Maybe this mindset can help me maintain a closer relationship with my daughter as she grows up, staying closer to her heart. At the same time, I can better understand what the new future world will actually look like, rather than just clinging to “back in my day…” or always missing the old world.

Early on, she was scared of bath time. I had to climb into the tub with her and sit behind her while she played with her rubber duck. I would then rinse her off with the handheld shower, and by the end, I was always soaked.

When my husband took over baths, he did things totally differently. He sat beside the tub and chatted with her while she splashed around. When she was done playing, he rinsed her off and lifted her out.

I loved this approach. I started doing the same thing—sitting on the edge of the tub, making casual conversation: “Where’s that duck going?” She plays happily while I stay dry and relaxed.

This whole thing reminded me of feedback my old manager gave me: “You’re super reliable, which is great. But the problem is everyone always comes to you with their issues. When you become the person who fixes everything, you can’t step back, and no one else gets to develop their problem-solving skills.” It took me a long time to understand what he meant. Whether you’re on a team or leading one, doing everything yourself actually hurts everyone’s growth. It’s exactly like always washing the kid—they never learn to do it themselves.

Our family works well now because my husband and I tag in and out with parenting—whoever’s free takes over, instead of everything falling on mom.

For bedtime, my husband taught her: “If you can’t fall asleep right away, just close your eyes and rest. You can whisper to yourself or hum a little song.” Now she’s totally fine saying goodnight and settling in by herself, even if she doesn’t fall asleep immediately. On weekend mornings when we want to sleep in, she’ll wake up and babble to herself, giving us time to make breakfast before getting her up. When we’re not actively playing with her, she finds ways to entertain herself—singing, hiding under blankets, playing with her toys—instead of constantly needing our attention.

This independence develops gradually through everyday moments. My husband and I believe children are meant to forge their own paths. Our job isn’t to make them perpetually dependent on us, but to gradually equip them with the skills to navigate life without us. If we constantly think “my child needs me,” we’ll struggle to give them space to try things independently. But when we trust their capacity to grow and create the right environment for exploration, we’re often amazed by her capabilities.

Take something as simple as bath time—I assumed she needed our help because she was so young. But just by changing our approach, she began exploring independence on her own.

Sometimes what children need most isn’t more help from us, but more space to discover what they can do themselves.

For a while, we took the bump bump route almost every single time. Later, when traffic lights didn’t line up right or other situations came up, I’d tell her, “Sweetie, we can’t do bump bump today. Let’s try again next time.” Most of the time, she would be pretty okay with it.

But you know how toddlers are – sometimes when she’s cranky or really has her heart set on something, she’ll start pushing back. Even after initially agreeing not to take bump bump, right when we’re about to miss the turn, she’ll suddenly announce, “I want bump bump!” When this happens, I’ll say, “We can’t do it this time, so Mama will just pick a route.” Then we’ll drive past the plaza, and I’ll narrate our journey: “There’s the big grocery store, there’s the bakery, there’s the cake shop, there’s the clothing store, there’s the pharmacy.” She joins in with her sweet little voice, which is absolutely adorable.

Of course, We can’t always find a substitute activity. Sometimes we just have to say no. For instance, when she’s in the backseat demanding “Daddy look at me,” he’ll respond, “Daddy’s driving right now and needs to keep my hands on the steering wheel. I can’t look at you until we stop the car.” Sometimes she gets upset, but there’s nothing we can do – it has to wait until we’re safely stopped.

Food is the same story. When she really wants something, she’ll repeat it over and over. Like right before dinner, she might desperately want a pouch of apple sauce, and we’ll remind her of our established rule: “Mommy and Daddy said snacks come after meals. Apple sauce is a snack, so we eat it after dinner.” Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t – she’ll puff out her little cheeks and keep saying “apple sauce,” and she might even have a complete meltdown. That’s when we need to let her sit with her feelings for a bit.

What’s funny is that sometimes she’ll talk to herself: “Eat dinner first, then snacks.” She’ll repeat this to herself multiple times, but even after saying it, she’ll still want snacks before dinner. That’s just how it is – she’s little and doesn’t have much self-control yet. Honestly, don’t adults sometimes want to grab a little something before meals too?

Through all these daily moments, I’ve come to realize that toddlers are incredibly spontaneous in what they say. You can’t treat their words like a binding contract. Kids’ thoughts change constantly, and parents need to stay flexible. When I think about it, do adults always follow through on everything they say? Of course not. We find this perfectly normal when it comes to ourselves – we can rationalize our changes of heart. But little kids can’t clearly explain their reasoning yet, so it’s hard for us to understand what’s going on in their minds. They probably don’t have a clear reason – something just pops into their head.

So don’t expect little ones to automatically do what they hear or stick with every idea they have. If we actually demanded “you just said this, so you absolutely have to follow through,” that would be way too much pressure for them. Cut ourselves some slack, cut our kid some slack, and we will discover lots of interesting things along the way. Watching her grow day by day while we learn to become better parents – there’s something really beautiful about growing together like this.

She’s totally obsessed with cracking eggs right now. She recently figured out how to use chopsticks to scramble them, and she’s pretty good at it now. When I’m making breakfast and need eggs, I’ll ask, “Want to help with the eggs?” and she comes running.

Now she can crack eggs on the bowl’s edge, set the shells aside, and use chopsticks to beat the eggs. When she’s cracking them, she grabs the egg with her little hands and tries to poke her fingers through the shell to open it. She hasn’t quite mastered where to grip the egg to crack it cleanly, so sometimes she squeezes too hard and crushes the whole thing. She has spilled egg all over the counter more times than I can count, but it’s not a big deal. I just keep paper towels handy, let her wipe her hands, and fish out any shell pieces from the bowl. After that, she’s completely in charge.

I can totally hand off the whole egg task to her now—when she’s done, she’ll announce “All done!” and I’ll take over from there.

She has also started helping take care of our dogs. I brush their teeth regularly, and the moment she got interested, I started letting her watch. One day she really wanted to brush their teeth, so I let her try brushing our big dog’s. Her technique definitely needs work, so I hold her hands to guide her while we do it together.

Afterward, she puts the dogs in their crates, throws in their dental chews, and tells them “bye-bye, good night”. One day I watched her smoothly crate the dogs, lock them in, toss in the treats, and say goodnight—and I was genuinely amazed. These were all things I never imagined a two-year-old could do so effortlessly.

When I think about it, maybe this isn’t so surprising: kids grow by doing small things, over and over.

So many little tasks seem trivial to adults—things we can just bang out without thinking. Why hand them over to a little kid who’ll probably just make a bigger mess? But that’s exactly the point: all these big and small experiences add up to shape who they become and how they approach things later on.

We love watching her figure these things out. We do our best to stay chill about it—we don’t expect perfection or demand that everything be spotless. When you’re parenting and want to keep your sanity, you have to let go of the small stuff and let them try. Little by little, we’ve realized there are actually things we can hand over to her. Some tasks we just supervise, like feeding the dogs or getting them in their crates. Other things she can handle by herself, like scrambling eggs or washing fruit, which gives us a chance to tackle something else.

This way, she’s happy, we’re less stressed, and it feels like we’re onto something good.

I’m not one of those moms who saves all the good stuff just for their kid. When she’s eating something, I’ll ask, “Is that yummy?” If she says yes, I’ll say, “Mama likes it too. Can you give Mama a bite?” Sometimes she refuses and stuffs everything in her mouth at once, and I’ll happily watch her finish it all. If she’s willing to share a little with me, I happily eat it up.

At home, my husband and I also share treats with each other. He’ll offer me some of what he’s eating, and I’ll let him try what I have. Our toddler sees all of this.

Over time, she started sharing her fruit and snacks with us on her own.

When eating ice cream, she’ll hold it and say, “Baby half, Mama half.” I’ll split it in half, and we’ll eat it together with spoons. Sometimes when I don’t want any, I’ll say, “Thank you, but Mama doesn’t want ice cream today. It’s all yours!” She’ll happily eat the whole thing.

Once during dinner, as I was about to reach for some vegetables, she said, “Mama don’t move, this is for Mama.” Then she used her chopsticks to pick up some food and fed it to me.

Another time at the store, she had a small bag of fruit gummies. After opening it, she handed me the first piece, then gave one to Daddy.

What struck me was that I hadn’t asked her for any, but she just did it so naturally. I think it’s because sharing is just a natural thing in our family - not something that’s demanded, but something she learns from watching our daily life. That’s why she picked it up so quickly and naturally.

Watching her share with us like this feels way more effective than lecturing her about sharing.

One of the hardest parts of parenting is finding the balance between a child’s comfort zone and challenges: when to encourage them to be brave and try something new, and when to let them take a break? I’ve found that instead of struggling to guess where my child’s limits are, it’s better to help her tell us herself.

I’ve been in situations where I felt overwhelmed but didn’t know how to respond, so I pushed through anyway, enduring the pressure and ending up in a really tough spot. Fortunately, over the years I’ve learned to understand myself better and judge more accurately whether a situation is right for me.

Since it took me so many years to learn this skill, could I try teaching it to my child from an early age?

One time while playing with my toddler, I was tickling her here and there, and she was giggling away. But being tickled too much is definitely uncomfortable, and I noticed she didn’t know how to tell me to stop, so I taught her: “If you don’t want Mama to tickle you, just say ‘Mama no’ or ‘Mama stop.’”

The next time I tickled her, she actually used it. While laughing, she said: “Mama no!” I immediately stopped and praised her for telling me. Being able to recognize her feelings and express them was a really important step.

Later I realized that my toddler had always been expressing her boundaries in her own way - I just hadn’t realized I needed to “translate” these signals.

At the playground, when facing challenging equipment, sometimes she’d be curious and want to try, sometimes she’d stop halfway up, or back away and ask to be held.

I realized she was actually telling us her state all along, just using her own “language” - body movements, facial expressions, simple words. If she said “no,” I’d say “Okay, let’s take a break.” If she looked eager but hesitant, I’d encourage her: “Want to try? Mama and Daddy are here if you need help.”

Often, parents’ expectations can create invisible pressure on children. I do this too - when I see a gap between my child’s current state and my expectations, I think about how to “close the gap.” But if we’re constantly pushing children to meet certain standards, it’s easy to ignore their real feelings.

When children can express their own state, I actually worry less. She tells me when she wants to take on a challenge and when she needs to slow down. This makes things much easier for me too - no more struggling to guess and judge.

I hope she can gradually learn to tell family and friends what makes her uncomfortable, and apply this skill in different situations. I used to have trouble saying “no” - when faced with overwhelming challenges, I didn’t know how to express myself and always felt awkward about refusing others. Having this ability from childhood would probably save so much internal struggle.

I think the best balance between comfort zone and challenges might not be something we parents control for our children, but rather giving them the tools to express themselves and the experience of being respected. After all, no one knows their own state better than they do. What we need to do is perhaps just listen and trust their judgment.

These are just my thoughts right now. As my child grows, there will surely be new discoveries. Parenting really is learning as we go.

After a while, I asked again, “Would you like to take off your shoes and go in the water?” She said, “No.”

What happened next really struck me: she stood by the water’s edge with her little bucket and shovel, quietly watching others play in the water. I sat behind her, watching silently. Time felt so slow—maybe ten minutes.

Suddenly, she turned around and said, “No water.” I said, “That’s fine. Want to come sit with mama?” She sat with me for a bit, then went off to play in the sand.

In that moment, I realized: she was setting a boundary with me, and I chose to respect it.

Every child has their own personality. They won’t like doing everything, or sometimes they’re just not ready for certain activities. When a child clearly says they don’t want to do something, I think they’re communicating a boundary to the adults around them.

Some people don’t understand boundaries—when someone says no, they keep pushing anyway. But acknowledging boundaries is itself a form of respect.

I trust that she can make decisions that are right for her, without me forcing her to do what I think she “should” do as a parent. At the lake, I didn’t pressure her to get in the water or say, “Look, everyone else is playing—why won’t you?” If she doesn’t feel comfortable, then the activity has no meaning for her. Her decision surely had reasons.

Some might worry: doesn’t this kind of “respect” spoil children? Won’t it make them willful? Let me be clear: respecting boundaries doesn’t mean having no rules. Some things are non-negotiable, especially safety issues. Using car seats, holding hands when crossing streets, not hitting others—these aren’t choices. Boundaries exist within reasonable limits. We’re giving children the right to express their preferences within a safe, reasonable framework, not the privilege to do whatever they want.

We see this boundary-pushing everywhere: a child says they don’t want to eat something, and parents keep coaxing, “Just one bite.” A child acts shy in an unfamiliar environment, and parents force them: “Say hello to auntie! How rude!” When someone clearly says “no,” others continue to challenge it, seemingly trying to flip that “no” into a “yes.”

We all know changing others is difficult, so why do we keep challenging people’s boundaries? What if we could all acknowledge that boundaries exist? What if we accepted that some things don’t need to be done now, can be done later, or might never be done at all?

I used to not know how to respond when people challenged my boundaries, but I’ve become more aware of this recently. Now when I don’t want to do something, I say so clearly. I’ve become more confident, and I don’t want to say what others want to hear just to please them. I think this is especially important for my daughter—as a girl, she needs to have her own clear viewpoint and express it.

If we always say what others want to hear, people will think our boundaries are easily pushed, leading to more challenges. People who truly respect us know when to stop.

This respect starts with how we treat our children. Everyone is an individual. When we teach children from an early age to both express their own boundaries and respect others’ boundaries, we’re raising someone with more empathy and understanding of respect.

Though he said it lightheartedly, even joking that "this is why I'm often late to things—I'm always trying to change this or that," the phrase left a deep impression on me. I realized I've been unconsciously practicing this approach in my work and life. This mindset has helped me reduce a lot of internal struggle and anxiety by shifting my focus to action.

Choosing to "accept It"

Sometimes we can't change the situation and leaving isn't realistic, we need to accept it and adapt.

When I started one of my jobs, I learned that I was going to redesign a product that’s in a domain with highly technical complexity, launch a new version with almost no knowledge of the product, and an extremely tight timeline. I couldn't change the urgency, or the deadline, and leaving wasn't an option, so I chose to accept the situation.

Knowing I was going to be in this for several tough months, I focused on learning as quickly as possible, doing my work well and efficiently, and catching up with the team's pace. Through this process, I established my footing and helped everyone achieve our goals. Eventually, I succeeded and earned the team's trust.

I find myself "accepting the current state" frequently in daily parenting too. Since we're raising our child by just the two of us and want to keep things relatively relaxed, we pick our battles. For many small things, I just let her be, saying "okay, go ahead". We focus on the big stuff—safety and things we consider truly important. I've written quite a bit about our parenting approaches before.

Choosing to "push for change"

When we have the ability to drive change and believe it's worth the effort, we choose to change it.

I encountered this situation at work during a project where the people responsible insisted on releasing something with obvious user experience flaws—like technical terms users may not understand at all. This created several potential problems: users would need to spend a long time learning the product, or they might not find the right entry points to use it properly.

I communicated with them directly several times but kept getting pushed back —"We know these terms cause problems, but the team made final decisions before you joined. They can't be changed. If modifications are needed, we'll address them after launch." My fellow supporting designer and I escalated this to our design leadership. We then formed an action plan: despite the tight project timeline, we carved out two to three weeks to conduct research with internal target users, gathering data that confirmed users indeed couldn't understand these technical terms. We also gave the main project points of contact a heads-up about our research.

Later, at a higher-level design review meeting, when we presented our findings and data, the reviewing executive quickly agreed with our assessment, acknowledged that some terms were difficult to understand, and suggested alternative names. After that, those who had previously insisted "the terms can't be changed" completely shifted their attitude and actively contributed ideas during the brainstorming session I organized afterward. Ultimately, we were able to change the problematic terms before the project launch.

As the user experience designer on the team, if I had done nothing when I first noticed the UX problems, it would have meant silently accepting those flaws. That was unacceptable to me, so I pushed for change. I also realized that team members had varying levels of understanding about the importance of user experience, so I could do something to help improve their UX awareness. This later evolved into an almost annual tradition of UX knowledge sharing. Initially, I had to find the right moments to "squeeze in" these mini-presentations. Later, even after several team reorganizations, people started reaching out to ask me to share on this topic.

I think sometimes that desire to "make a small change" pushes certain things to happen, and in turn, these things push me to change even more. It's a really interesting cycle.

Choosing to "leave"

When the current situation is neither acceptable nor changeable, leaving might be the best choice. I've had a couple of experiences in my career that I still remember clearly to this day .

The first was when I had been at a job for over a year and felt I could no longer learn anything new there. Though I could have chosen to endure it for visa status reasons, I felt bored and unfulfilled, so I decided to leave.

Being a relatively new designer at the time, job hunting took me many months. I worked during the day and devoted my evenings entirely to finding new opportunities. After a long eight months, I finally found a job worth staying at for years, where I learned tremendously. Now I'm very grateful to my past self for making that decision to leave.

During another job hunt, there was a company that looked great on paper: overall good conditions and also could sponsor a green card quickly. However, when I interviewed there, the place felt lifeless. When I asked a senior designer why they stayed at the company, they said they thought it was stable and wouldn't lay people off. I was completely turned off by that mindset. I couldn't change a company I hadn't even joined yet, and I couldn't accept the company's state with peace of mind, so I turned down their offer. The next job I ultimately took was in an environment I absolutely loved, where I ended up working for a long time.

Reflection

From work to parenting to all aspects of our lives, when facing any situation, we might have internal standards. Sometimes we can adjust our standards to accept the current state, sometimes we want to change something to meet those standards, and sometimes we choose to leave.

Whatever choice we make, there's no going back, so even when there's internal conflict and struggle, I try to focus on the next action, letting those emotions go more quickly so I can look forward without distraction.

"Accept it, change it, or leave it."

I really like this simple summary.