Rhythms of a Family in a Machine World

I’ve been reflecting on what we’ve done that works — and what doesn’t. We’re at a point with our elementary-age kids where some patterns have held up, and I want to share them.

This isn’t advice. I’m not a parenting expert. These are the rhythms that work for our family. Steal what’s useful, ignore what’s not.

We didn’t start doing all of this at once. These built up over years. And when life gets busy, things get cut — you just pick the right order to cut them.

The Frame

Raising kids doesn’t mean putting your life on hold. The opposite. You bring them along.

I want to be honest about what makes this possible: I work 10 to 6, and my wife is a stay-at-home mom. She is the engine underneath all of this. I’m writing from my perspective, but I want to be clear — I can describe the rhythms, but I can’t fully describe what she does to make them work. The structure I see rests on a thousand decisions she makes every day that I’ll never fully understand. This is a partnership, and she carries more of it than I could put into words.

Not everyone has that setup — but I believe these rhythms can work in whatever situation you have. The shape changes; the intention doesn’t.

One night I came home discouraged. The kids always want to play, always want more, and it felt like there was never enough time. My wife said:

“It’s not quantity they’re after — it’s quality. Five minutes of real presence and they may want more, but that’s all it takes. Give what you have to give in a good heart.”

That reframed everything.

Kids learn to dream by watching you dream. They learn to work by watching you work. They learn to rest by watching you rest. The goal isn’t to optimize their childhood — it’s to live a life worth imitating, and let them see it up close. My kids come with me to Lowe’s for home repair projects. They tag along to search and rescue family training events. We do BJJ together. They’re not on the sideline watching my life — they’re in it.

Adventures don’t have to be complicated. A cruise with grandparents. A cabin trip. Disney, sure, but also: an afternoon with nothing planned. Boredom is underrated. It’s where imagination starts.

Against the Machine

There’s a saying in parenting circles: when you give a kid a device, that’s when their childhood ends. We believe that — but let me be specific. The problem isn’t screens. It’s algorithms. Social media, YouTube rabbit holes, infinite scroll — systems designed to capture attention and shape behavior. Letting a kid interact with those before their brain is fully formed is like handing them a drink at the bar. The dose makes the poison, and kids have no tolerance.

There is a family computer and a family Switch. No personal devices. The Switch works because it’s shared, it’s in the living room, and there’s no private infinite scroll. The kids don’t need a portal to the entire internet in their pocket — they need margin, boredom, and each other.

You wouldn’t let your kids wander every part of the city unsupervised. Some neighborhoods are fine. Some aren’t. Technology is the same. We’re not anti-technology — we’re against unfettered access. Math Academy is a nice neighborhood. The family Switch is a nice neighborhood. YouTube’s algorithm at 10pm is not.

Screens off by 8pm on school nights. Unstructured time most weekends. Not because we’re strict — because margin matters. And this is easier when you’re not doing it alone — our church community and BJJ gym are full of families making similar choices. Find your people.

Daily Rhythms

Learning Together

Everyone studies math. We use Math Academy (starts at 4th grade — there are other platforms for younger kids) — and I do it too. Not to monitor them, but because I’m genuinely relearning. Kids whose parents learn alongside them internalize that learning never stops. The platform has a 93% completion rate (vs 5% for typical online courses), and the same system works for adults and kids. 30-50 minutes a day, most days. Physics is probably next.

Reading Every Night

Bible and a storybook. Currently working through Wingfeather, Redwall, The Black Cauldron. Research from Ohio State found kids read to daily hear 1.4 million more words by kindergarten than kids who aren’t. But honestly, the stats aren’t why we do it. It’s the best part of the day — everyone together, winding down, entering a story. The AAP recommends print over digital. We agree. There’s something about a physical book.

The Right Kind of Screen Time

Not all screens are equal. There’s a difference between dopamine-loop trash games on a phone and a console game with a real story.

Pokemon on the Switch basically taught our middle kid to read. The deal was simple: you can play as much as you want, but you have to read every word out loud. He did. He’s still reading many grade levels ahead of his peers.

Console games with narratives — where you make choices, follow arcs, solve problems — are closer to interactive books than they are to infinite scroll.

Chores

Everyone helps out.

Only 28% of parents today require their kids to do regular chores, compared to 82% a generation ago.

We’re raising a generation of kids who’ve never been expected to contribute to the household they live in.

The Harvard Grant Study — 85 years of longitudinal research — found a strong connection between childhood chores and adult happiness. A separate study at the University of Minnesota followed kids from age 3 to their mid-20s and found that the single best predictor of young adult success was whether they did household tasks starting at ages 3-4. Not grades. Not activities. Chores.

We’re not rigid about it, but the expectation is clear: this is a family, and families share the work.

Weekly Rituals

BJJ + Burger Night

Thursday is jiu-jitsu. After class, we get burgers. They stay up a little late. The burger is non-negotiable. The celebration matters as much as the training.

Something physical is non-negotiable in our house. What that something is — that’s up to the kid. We discovered BJJ, and all three love it now. But that wasn’t instant. My daughter hated it at first. She committed to trying seventy-seven times before quitting. By the third class, she was hooked.

Why BJJ specifically? A randomized controlled trial found 12 weeks of jiu-jitsu significantly decreased emotional symptoms and hyperactivity in kids. A separate study showed BJJ practitioners had decreased aggression over time, while MMA practitioners showed increased. The discipline is real, but so is the confidence. Jocko Willink — who pushed his kids too hard early — now says the key is to make it fun. The activity should feel like play first, discipline second. Follow the child’s lead. We’ve found the burger helps.

Movie Night

Friday is movie night. Homemade popcorn — Franklin’s butter, Flavacol, the whole ritual. We rotate between classics and whatever they want. Sandlot. Star Wars. Pirates of the Caribbean (the eldest now uses “I’m sending you to Davy Jones’ locker” as a threat to her siblings, which I consider a parenting win).

The point isn’t to curate some perfect film education. It’s the rhythm — same night, same popcorn, same couch. Predictability is underrated. Kids thrive on structure they can count on. So do adults. The reason these rituals work isn’t the content — it’s that they’re always there. Thursday is BJJ. Friday is movies. Sunday is church. The rhythm holds even when the week doesn’t.

Church

Sunday we go to church. Faith is important to our family. I want to share what I believe with my kids, and I want them to see it lived out — not just talked about. Others will share their beliefs as they grow. That’s fine. But I want them to have something to stand on. Something bigger than algorithms, peer approval, content consumption. I want them to know how what we believe can be used to navigate a big, scary, exciting, wondrous world.

A Day of Rest

Sunday is also a day of rest. After church, we slow down. No agenda, no productivity. The sabbath principle is simple: you weren’t designed to run seven days a week. Rest isn’t something you earn — it’s built into the rhythm. The kids see us stop, and they learn that rest is part of the design, not a failure of it.

Allowance

Honestly, we’re hit or miss on this.

The research is interesting: some studies suggest tying allowance to chores undermines intrinsic motivation. Kids naturally want to help, and paying them can make it transactional. Other research shows earning money teaches work ethic.

The compromise most experts recommend: baseline chores are unpaid — that’s just being part of a family. Extra work (washing the car, deep cleaning) can earn extra money.

We’re not consistent here. Ideally, there’s a small stipend for basic responsibilities and opportunities to earn more. But I’m not going to pretend we’ve nailed it. Work in progress.

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These rhythms aren’t perfect. Some weeks we miss movie night. Some mornings the Math Academy streak breaks. Some Sundays we’re tired and church feels like a slog.

That’s fine.

The point isn’t perfection. It’s intention. It’s showing up more often than not. It’s building a life where your kids see you learning, working, resting, believing — and they’re right there with you.

I know what holds people back. You’re afraid you’ll lose your career momentum. Lose your identity. Lose the version of yourself you’ve worked so hard to build. I get it.

When I lost my brother, I thought I’d lost my identity as a brother. That role — gone. Permanently.

But it came back in ways I never expected. My parents had another child later in life. At church, I found myself drawn to men who needed a brother figure, and those relationships became some of the deepest I have. And with my own kids, being a father turned out to be an evolution of being a brother — protecting, teaching, showing up, walking alongside.

The identities you’re afraid of losing don’t die. They transform.

You don’t stop being ambitious, creative, driven. You become those things with witnesses. Small ones who are learning what it looks like to build a life on purpose.

Be bold enough to imagine a life where you can be who you are and have kids. There is sacrifice — real sacrifice. Less sleep. Less money. Less of whatever “freedom” meant before. Your body is tired. Your patience runs out. Some seasons are just survival.

But you can still be who you are called to be. And it is fuller for being a parent. The sacrifice doesn’t hollow you out. It fills you up in places you didn’t know were empty.

They’ll figure out their own dreams in time — because they didn’t just watch you chase yours. They ran with you.