The time I got completely trucked on live TV during a Georgia game, my only real option was to get back up. Two players came flying off the field, leveled me, and the cameras kept rolling. There’s no pause button in live TV and no do-overs. I just have to stay calm and keep going.
Motherhood and live broadcasting have more in common than I ever expected. Both are completely unscripted. Both will humble you on your best day. And both require you to stay composed when everything is coming at you, even a hangry toddler. Live TV was a better preparation for motherhood than I ever gave it credit for. Here are 5 things it taught me about how to be a calm parent.
1. I can’t control everything, but I can control my response.
Live TV has handed me plenty of moments I didn’t see coming, including a post-game interview that many people saw on Monday Night Football and had a lot of opinions about. I had no control over the player’s response, but I had full control over how I showed up in that moment. I pivoted, stayed present, and finished the job.
Parenting little ones works the same way. When Jack has a full meltdown in the middle of a grocery store, I can’t rewind the situation and stop what set him off. But I can take a breath, get down to his level, and just be with him in it. That’s usually enough. He calms down faster. And I feel less frantic.
As moms, we can’t script motherhood. But deciding how we respond is the first step in figuring out how to be a calm parent.
2. I focus on what is instead of what isn’t.
There’s nothing quite like losing your earpiece during a live broadcast to teach you about staying present. When the feed goes dead, or I can’t hear my producers, I have two options: panic about everything I’m missing or lock in on what’s right in front of me. I learned to read body language, stay in the conversation, and trust what I could see.
The same thing happens at home. When Jack was running a fever and everything we’d planned just didn’t happen, I had the same two choices: stress about the missed event or focus on what was right in front of me—an extra snuggly little boy who just wanted his mom. Those slow sick days are actually some of the sweetest ones we’ve had because I was fully there for them.
As moms, the moments our kids remember are rarely the ones we planned.
3. I practice quick mental resets.
On NFL Live, I might have 90 seconds between segments. If I messed up a stat or a segment went sideways, I can’t carry that weight into the next one. The camera won’t wait for me to process my feelings about it. So I learned the power of the quick reset: deep breath, shake it off, refocus. Done. Dwelling on what just went wrong costs you the next opportunity. Every time.
It works at home too. Some nights, bedtime is a whole thing. Reese requests a dance routine from Josh and me. Jack has like a bazillion questions about dinosaurs. And they both want more water. When I start to feel myself losing it, I’ve learned to stop and take a beat before the next thing. That’s it. That’s the whole reset.
As moms, sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is just take a breath and start fresh.
4. I laugh at mistakes in real time.
I love a good blooper. I genuinely do. I don’t take myself too seriously at work, and when I say the wrong team name or completely trip over my words on air, I just laugh and move on. The moment I treat a mistake like it’s catastrophic, it becomes one. But when I laugh and keep going, so does everyone else. That’s true in a broadcast studio, and it is absolutely true at home with my family.
Cooking with my kids is a guaranteed blooper reel. The audio I cut from my cooking videos tells the whole story. Reese is singing at the top of her lungs. My wildman Jack is adding in extra shakes of spices—something inevitably spilling—and the dog is convinced it’s all for him. I wouldn’t trade it. When I laugh instead of stress, the chaos and cracked eggs on the floor just become part of the fun.
When we laugh at our mistakes, our kids learn to laugh at theirs.
5. I transition fast without overthinking it.
After halftime interviews, I have roughly two minutes to make it from the field to the concourse to host the halftime show. It’s a full-on sprint. There is no time to mentally ease into the next thing. I just go. I trust my prep and make the transition. I can’t hesitate or overthink it, or I’m toast.
Nobody warned me that walking through my own front door would feel like sprinting to the halftime desk. One second, I’m “Laura Rutledge, NFL Live host,” and the next I’m “Mommy.” There’s Reese twirling around, showing me her artwork from school. Jack needs a diaper change, and dinner is not going to make itself. I used to stand in the doorway for a second, trying to mentally switch gears. Now I just walk in the door ready for what’s next.
As working moms, we constantly sprint between roles. Learning how to be a calm parent starts with letting go of the graceful transition and just making it.
What’s one thing that’s helped you figure out how to be a calm parent?
