This is what box sliding should look like…
On Mother’s Day 2026, my partner and I took our three boys box sliding.
For those unfamiliar with this elite recreational activity, the concept is simple: cardboard box + steep grassy hill = fun.
Unfortunately, at one point I removed the cardboard box from the equation but continued the sliding.
The result was two broken ankle bones, a ride down the hill on the back of a quad bike, an ambulance trip, ten days in hospital, several surgeries, external fixators that made me look like Frankenstein’s less attractive cousin, installation of internal hardware, then finally a cast and home.
What followed was something I was entirely unprepared for.
The stillness.
For nearly eight weeks I couldn’t work, exercise, or distract myself with busyness.
Parenting and housework continued, because apparently children still expect food and clean clothes regardless of their mother’s ability to walk, but everything took twice as long.
Somewhere between elevating my leg and repeatedly confiscating objects being used as weapons by my children, I found myself thinking.
I’ve spent years consuming information about health, habits, psychology and self- improvement. I listen to podcasts, read books, and follow experts who all seem to have compelling evidence for how I could be living a better life.
The problem isn’t knowledge.
The problem is action.
I know alcohol isn’t helping.
I know I should meditate more consistently.
I know I spend too much time doomscrolling.
I know sleep, exercise and nutrition matter.
Like most people, I know what I should be doing. I just don’t always do it.
So I’ve decided to stop being a spectator and become the experiment.
Over the next few months, I’ll introduce (or subtract) one habit, lifestyle change or “protocol” every three weeks and document what happens. Not in a lab, but in real life: while raising three boys, recovering from an injury, trying to maintain a relationship, and navigating the general chaos of adulthood.
The first challenge is alcohol.
As I write this, there’s a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge waiting for me later. It’s already calling my name.
I’ve stopped drinking before. Gone months without it, in fact. But every time I start again, stopping seems harder.
So when the cast comes off, the wine goes away.
I’ll track what happens to my sleep, mood, energy, recovery and overall tolerance for the small people who live in my house and eat all the food.
Maybe nothing will change.
Maybe everything will.
Either way, I’ll report back honestly.
So that’s where we’re starting.
Recently broken.
Frequently tired.
Armed with an impressive amount of information and a less impressive amount of consistency.
Next week the cast comes off.
The wine goes away.
And the experiment begins.
Three boys. Zero alcohol. Wish me luck.
The aftermath…
