I never expected that some of my biggest health and life lessons after 40 would come from my kids. Like many of us navigating midlife, I’ve spent a lot of time reading about longevity, wellness, and finding meaning in the second half of life. But it turns out, some of the best reminders don’t come from books or experts—they come from the little humans right in front of me.
As a father in my 50s, I’ve been gifted the chance to see life through their eyes: the way they move, eat, play, feel, and live fully in the present moment. It’s been both humbling and inspiring. Parenting at this stage of life can be challenging, especially when trying to balance responsibilities, aging bodies, and the constant pull to be “productive.” But my kids keep bringing me back to what matters most.
In this post, I want to share some of the unexpected ways they’ve helped me reconnect with joy, health, and a deeper sense of purpose. If you’re over 40 and feeling a little off-track, maybe their reminders will help you too.
Slowing Down to Speed Up
One of the first things my kids reminded me—without saying a word—is that rushing through life isn’t the same as living it.
In the past, I often found myself caught in the adult mindset of always needing to do something. Whether it was work, planning, fixing, or improving, I was constantly in motion, yet rarely present. But when you walk beside a young child, you realize they don’t care much about destinations—they care about the journey. The stick they found, the sound of a bird, the shape of a cloud. Everything is worth noticing.
I remember walking through the forest trail near our home, trying to squeeze in a bit of fresh air before getting back to my to-do list. My son kept stopping to examine patches of moss or climb low branches, and I found myself getting impatient. But then I paused—and watched him. He was fully engaged, fully alive in that moment. No anxiety about what comes next. Just now.
It hit me then: in all my efforts to be efficient, I was missing life itself.
Since then, I’ve been trying to adopt a slower pace. To let go of urgency and reconnect with a sense of presence—whether it’s during a walk, making breakfast, or simply watching my son play. Ironically, when I slow down, I feel more energized. More focused. It’s like my body and mind were craving something my children naturally understand: living well isn’t about doing more—it’s about being here.
Rediscovering Movement Through Their Eyes
Before becoming a parent, I used to think of exercise as something structured—something I had to schedule, measure, and often push myself to do. But my kids reminded me that movement doesn’t have to be that way. It can be spontaneous, joyful, and surprisingly effective.
I’ve watched my son run full speed down a beach for no reason other than to feel the wind in his face. I’ve seen him squat, jump, climb, and roll without even realizing he was doing a full-body workout. There’s no “leg day” in his world—just play.
At first, I’d join him reluctantly. I’d tell myself I didn’t have time, or that I needed to rest. But as I started moving with him—walking more, playing more, even just crawling on the floor or climbing a small hill together—I felt something shift. My body responded. My joints loosened. My mood lifted.
It made me realize how much we, as adults, have overcomplicated movement. We chase the perfect fitness routine while ignoring the simple truth: our bodies are meant to move, often and in different ways. And it doesn’t have to be in a gym.
Now, I treat these shared moments as both bonding and a kind of natural training. I might not run marathons anymore, but I can run barefoot in the sand with my son and feel fully alive. That’s the kind of fitness I want to maintain after 40—one rooted in vitality, not vanity.
Eating Well Without the Stress
Food is one of those areas where parenting has challenged and changed me the most. Before, I was often caught between trying to eat “clean,” feeling guilty about indulgences, or overthinking every choice. But kids approach food with a kind of intuitive wisdom—especially when they haven’t yet been conditioned by diet culture or stress.
My son eats when he’s hungry, stops when he’s full, and gets genuinely excited about the simplest things. A sliced apple, a bowl of warm rice, or even just a handful of nuts can bring him real satisfaction. Watching that made me question why eating had become so complicated for me.
At some point, I realized I was turning meals into mental checklists—nutrients, calories, macros. But my son reminded me that food is about nourishment and enjoyment, not control. He doesn’t moralize food as “good” or “bad”—he just eats, and moves on.
We now often eat together during my intermittent fasting window, and I try to make those meals slower, more connected. Not only has it helped me be more mindful, but it’s also softened the pressure I used to put on myself around eating. I still care about nutrition, of course—but I now care just as much about how I eat.
Sharing food with my child has become one of my favorite daily rituals. No phones, no distractions—just the two of us, sitting down, laughing, chewing, and enjoying whatever’s on the plate. That, to me, is healthy eating.
Emotional Health: Learning to Feel Again
Becoming a parent in my 40s has opened up emotional layers I didn’t even know I had—or maybe ones I had quietly shut away over time. Kids have this incredible ability to mirror your emotional state back to you. You think you’re calm and composed, but they pick up on tension instantly. You’re distracted, they feel it. You’re joyful, they light up.
In many ways, my son has been a mirror for me. His raw honesty, his laughter, his tears—they’ve reminded me what it means to feel fully. No filters, no numbing, no pretending.
There have been tough moments, of course. Times when I’ve lost patience, felt overwhelmed, or didn’t know how to respond. But even in those moments, I’ve learned more about myself than I ever did in years of “holding it together.” I’ve learned that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s connection.
I used to think that as the adult, I had to always be strong, always in control. But now I see the power in showing my child that it’s okay to feel sad, to be frustrated, or to need a moment to breathe. That it’s okay to say, “I’m having a hard day,” and to let him see me navigate that with honesty.
Healing emotionally—especially in midlife—often means unlearning what we were taught and relearning what our children instinctively know: emotions are part of being human, and expressing them openly leads to strength, not shame.
Living Fully: The Magic in the Moment
Before I had kids, I thought I understood mindfulness. I’d read books, tried meditation, even practiced breathing exercises. But it wasn’t until I spent time simply being with my son that I really grasped what presence looks like.
He doesn’t care about yesterday or tomorrow. He doesn’t worry about emails or errands. When he builds a sandcastle, chases a butterfly, or tells me a long story about a cloud shaped like a dinosaur—he’s there. Fully. And when I join him in that moment, I’m reminded of something I often forget: life isn’t happening later—it’s happening now.
There was a time not long ago when I sat on a bench near the beach while my son played in the sand. I was checking my phone, half-listening, half-distracted. Then he called out, “Dada, look at this!” I looked up and saw nothing extraordinary—just a little shell in his hand. But his face was lit up like he’d found treasure. So I got up, walked over, and knelt beside him. We spent the next ten minutes marveling at that tiny shell and everything else around it.
That one moment shifted my whole day.
Kids have this innate ability to find magic in the mundane. And the older I get, the more I realize—that’s the key to living fully. Not chasing something new or extraordinary, but noticing what’s already right in front of us.
After 40, when so many people are focused on what they’ve missed or still want to achieve, it’s liberating to rediscover joy in the little things. My son shows me that every day.
What I Want Them to See in Me
As much as my kids learn from me, I’ve come to realize that I’m learning just as much from them. And maybe that’s what parenting in midlife is really about—it’s not just guiding them through the world, but letting them shape the kind of person I’m still becoming.
I often ask myself: What do I want my children to remember about me when they grow up?
Do I want them to remember someone who was constantly stressed, glued to a screen, always chasing something and never quite happy? Or do I want them to see someone who, even in his 40s and 50s, kept evolving—who prioritized health, embraced joy, and found meaning in the everyday?
I want them to see a dad who moves his body not just to stay fit, but to feel alive. A dad who eats well, not from fear, but from love—for life, for energy, for shared meals. A dad who isn’t afraid to say “I’m struggling today,” and also one who says “I’m so grateful we have this moment together.”
My kids remind me daily that it’s not too late to become the person I want to be. And that by choosing to live more fully now, I’m not only improving my own life—I’m planting seeds in theirs.
I want them to know that growing older doesn’t mean growing dull or disconnected. It can mean becoming more yourself, more grounded, more present. That’s the version of adulthood I want them to see.
Final Thoughts
Midlife has a way of pushing us to reassess everything—our health, our goals, our time. And while books, podcasts, and research all have their place, I’ve found some of the most powerful lessons come from simply being with my kids.
They’ve reminded me to slow down, to move with joy, to eat without guilt, to feel without shame, and to find magic in the everyday. Most of all, they’ve reminded me that it’s never too late to live fully—and to model what a meaningful, vibrant life can look like after 40.
If you’re reading this and feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or just a little disconnected, take a moment to notice what the younger people in your life might be showing you—whether they’re your kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, or even students or neighbors. Their way of being is a powerful invitation to reconnect with our own vitality.
Because sometimes the greatest motivation to take better care of ourselves… is knowing that someone small is watching—and learning from the way we live.
What have your kids—or the kids in your life—taught you about living fully?
I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to share them with me on Facebook or X (Twitter). Let’s keep the conversation going there!
FAQ: Living Fully After 40—Lessons from Parenthood
1. How can having kids help you stay healthy after 40?
Kids naturally encourage movement, play, and being present. Whether it’s going for a walk, playing on the floor, or preparing meals together, these everyday moments can help you stay active and mindful without the pressure of a formal routine.
2. What if I don’t have children—can I still apply these ideas?
Absolutely. The message is really about reconnecting with a sense of wonder, play, and presence—which you can rediscover through time with nieces, nephews, students, or even your younger self. Kids just tend to remind us of those things more easily.
3. What’s one simple thing I can do today to live more fully?
Put your phone down and be fully present during one small moment—whether it’s a meal, a walk, or a conversation. Look around. Listen deeply. That kind of presence doesn’t cost anything but has a huge impact on your well-being.
Related read:
Biohacking Longevity: Simple Strategies to Optimize Your Body & Mind After 40
The Power of Daily Habits: How Small Actions Lead to Big Changes After 40
Morning Routines After 40: Start Your Day for Success and Longevity
Letting Go of Perfectionism: A Key to Longevity and Well-Being After 40
Work With Your Body, Not Against It: How Ultradian Cycles Boost Focus and Vitality After 40