As I watched my 11-year-old daughter settle into her seat in First Class the other day, I couldn’t help but smile—and pause. She knows this routine like it’s normal. Meanwhile, I didn’t step foot in First Class until I was 37. At her age, I didn’t even know it existed.

And there she was, effortlessly buckled in, ordering snacks like a seasoned traveler. It hit me: her “normal” looks nothing like mine did.

I used to joke, “Dang, our girls are so blessed… whoever they end up with better buckle up—they’re gonna be high maintenance.”
And if I’m being honest, for a while, I believed it.

I have watched them grow up surrounded by opportunity and adventure—the kind I could only dream about. They’ve had experiences and resources I never did. And sometimes, I’d catch myself wondering if we were overdoing it. Were we raising girls who might grow up expecting the world to cater to them?

As parents, we’re always walking a tightrope—trying to give our kids everything we never had, while still teaching them to be grounded, grateful, and resilient.

My husband and I have this conversation often. We want to give our girls the world and help them understand that the world owes them nothing. That everything they’ve been given is a privilege, not a promise. But that’s a deeper conversation for another day.

Let me give you a quick example.

Not long ago, we were traveling from Texas to Colorado for a gymnastics meet. Our flight kept getting delayed—until, finally, it was canceled around midnight. So, we packed up the car and drove to Dallas at 1 a.m. to catch another flight that could get us there on time.

We rolled into the Dallas airport around 5 a.m., and the agent told us there were only four seats left on the 5:30 flight. We took them and sprinted to the gate.

Once on board, I put my oldest daughter in her seat, then walked a few rows back to get my youngest settled. Her seat? A middle seat. No window. No screen. Nothing to distract her from the chaos of the morning. As I was making my way to my own seat in the very back, she looked at me, confused:
“HEY! Where’s my window seat with the TV?”

In that moment, it hit me: In her few times flying, her daddy had always made sure she had the window seat and her favorite shows queued up. To her, that was flying. That was the standard.

And honestly? That’s kind of how their life has been. Daddy caters to their every whim—and I can’t even be mad about it. That man treats me like a pampered queen, so of course they think that’s the norm.

For a while, I worried we were setting the bar too high. Would they ever find someone who treats them as well as their dad does? Would they expect too much? Would they settle for someone who looks good on paper but doesn’t show up emotionally?
(Welcome to the black hole of intrusive mom thoughts I live in daily.)

But here’s what time, perspective, and watching them grow has taught me:

We’re not raising high-maintenance girls.
We’re raising independent women.

We’re raising girls who are unapologetic about going after what they want.
Who know how to take care of themselves—mind, body, and soul.
Who understand that happiness is an inside job, not something borrowed from someone else.

We’re raising girls who know they don’t need anyone to save them, support them, or define them.
They will have no problem booking the flight, upgrading the seat, and handling the turbulence, literally and metaphorically speaking.

And when they do choose someone to walk through life with, it won’t be because they need them. It will be because they want them.

So yeah… whoever they end up with better buckle up.

These girls will expect a lot. Not because they’re entitled, but because they’ve been raised on healthy love, high standards, and even higher dreams.

And now, when I think about their future partners, I don’t feel sorry for them at all.
I feel excited.

Because our girls won’t need anyone.
But when they choose someone that person will be the lucky one.