5 community norms every parent deserves
… but few of us have
I write a lot about how to build stronger, more connected parenting communities1. But communities have atrophied so much that many of us can’t even picture what they look like anymore. We might have a faint memory of it from our own childhoods, but the cultural shift towards individualism and isolation (and by that, I mean the isolation of spending most of our time only with our nuclear family) has been so complete that a thriving, interconnected village now feels like a fantasy.
Most millennial parents actually did grow up in healthier communities than the ones we’re raising our kids in, but when it comes to raising our own kids it seems like we’ve developed collective amnesia. Try searching stock photography for “families hanging out.” You’ll find endless images of nuclear families, alone in their homes (or, as in the middle image, child-free Gen Z-ers laughing in a field):
We’ve gotten so accustomed to isolation that it feels normal. But it’s not. And it’s certainly not healthy.
So today, inspired by Jonathan Haidt’s “4 new norms” for a phone-free childhood, I want to propose a set of 5 healthy community norms—a vision of what it looks like when parents demand connection.
One caveat before we dive in: I posted a note last week collecting ideas for this post, and one of the responses was that we shouldn’t talk about “norms” or “benchmarks” for community because (1) it might make lonely people feel bad and (2) community looks different for everyone.
On the first point: I don’t want people to feel bad, but I don’t mind if people feel, say, mildly pressured. Social pressure is how norms form! If everyone adopted just one of these new norms, that’s a real impact. (And if you’re going to feel bad about something, don’t make it this newsletter—feel bad about declining your friend’s dinner invite because you wanted to stay home and watch Netflix!)
The work it takes to prioritize community again—not instead of the nuclear family, but alongside it—won’t always feel comfortable, easy, or fun. But like many important things—exercise, ethics, education—the end result is so powerful and deeply important that, in my book, a little bit, or even a large bit, of discomfort is absolutely acceptable. Don’t we tell our kids all the time: “we can do hard things”?
As for “community looks different for everyone”—sure. But not that different. Too much individualism is what got us into this mess in the first place! Different communities might express these norms in different ways, but the principles are still pretty universal.
So, on to the norms!
The 5 community norms
1. You have the phone numbers of most of the parents in your child’s grade
Examples:
From
: You’re in at least one active group chat with neighbors/fellow local parents.Your child’s school provides a directory
It should be the most basic thing in the world: if you want to invite your kid’s new classmate over, you should be able to text their parents. But at most schools today, that’s surprisingly hard. The directories that were standard when we were kids have mostly disappeared, leaving parents to rely on notes in backpacks or sleuthing on social media.
Parent directories are basic community infrastructure—the on-ramp to carpools, dinners, playdates, and advocacy. Schools are in the best position to provide them, because the lack of a directory makes organizing to get one almost impossible for parents.
2. Another family is in your home at least monthly
Examples:
You invite another family over for dinner at least once a month, and accept invitations when you’re invited into other families’ homes
From
: You attend an event at your child’s school at least monthlyFrom
: You regularly run into people you know at the park or the farmer’s market
In person community > Online community. Digital groups (including WhatsApp chats of parents who you don’t see in-person for any significant time) are fine for coordination, but they’re no substitute for breaking bread together. The trust that forms when we enter each other’s homes is the foundation for carpools, sleepovers, and letting kids roam freely through the neighborhood when they’re old enough—which is why I think that having another family inside your home at least monthly is a good goal to strive for.
Of course, there are situations where this isn’t possible. My community, for example, includes many families who lack secure housing (folks live in trailers or improvised housing, or share space in multi-generational homes), so it works better for them to gather at the local park or the beach. If you have some reason other than mild social anxiety preventing you from having people inside your home, you can get meet up at a park, or a pizza parlor, or go for a walk … the point is that you’re finding ways to be among other families in person.
Schools have a role to play in this, too. They’re our last universal social structure, and they could be the place where parents start the relationships that form their village. Schools should set welcoming policies and aim for every parent to step onto school grounds at least monthly.
3. Spontaneous social plans happen at least weekly
Examples:
1 – 2 weekday afternoons where kids have no structured activities, and at least two big blocks of unscheduled time on weekends. If you’re not using this time for social plans with another family, kids who are old enough are ideally on their own, getting bored, finding other kids to play with
At least monthly, you ask for, and are asked, to take kids last minute so parents can get stuff done
At least one family you’re comfortable inviting over last-minute, without cleaning first
From
: Your kids can find neighborhood friends to play with most afternoons/weekends.
When you have a strong community, you end up having spontaneous get-togethers with other families on a regular basis: last-minute invites to come by for dinner, or meet up at the park.
This feels so much easier and more natural than having to plan everything out weeks in advance. But it only works if people in your community actually have time to hang out—if they aren’t over-scheduled. And unfortunately, over-scheduling is often the status quo.
Intensive parenting aims to fill every hour with practices, tutoring, and enrichment2. Community-minded parenting deliberately protects unscheduled time—reserving time and energy for the casual, last-minute invitations that often end up being the most joyful part of a week.
Having space in your calendar also means you are available for the sort of last-minute help that creates a deeply integrated community––if everyone knows you are likely at travel soccer all weekend, they won’t bother to ask if you can take their kids while they run an errand.
4. You have at least 4 non-relative families you can reach out to for help with zero anxiety
Examples:
Each child has at least three non-family adults whom their parents trust for care
When you fill out those school forms about who is allowed to pick up your kid, it’s at least five names long
From
: you trust a neighbor a spare keyFrom
: your kids know whose house they can go to if they’re locked outFrom
: a friend can pick up your child in an emergencyFrom
: You trust friends to bring your kids’ to birthday parties and school functions, and do the same for others
In a thriving community, kids aren’t raised only by their parents—they’re surrounded by alloparents: trusted adults who look out for them and provide different perspectives. Anthropologists tell us this is how humans have always parented: not in isolation, but in networks.
5. Care is shared across households
Examples:
From
: There’s a steady stream of tangible, specific offers that make it comfortable to accept help or ask for help when it’s neededFrom
: you are willing to be slightly inconvenienced to provide similar assistance to your community when askedFrom
: you ask for help when your family needs itFrom
: You have at least one or two contacts in your phone that you could reach out to for last-minute child/pet care in a pinch. (ie I need to take my toddler to urgent care; could you hang out with the baby for an hour or so?)From
: You have contributed to or created a meal trainFrom
: You rarely buy new kids’ clothes because of ample hand-me-downs, and carpools are easy to figure out for kids’ practices and eventsFrom
: You have someone you could call if you a) need to borrow a cup of sugar; b) need a ride to the airport; c) need last-minute childcare help
Parenting is too big of a job for two people. When families distribute care across households—through carpools, meal swaps, drop-off playdates and more—there’s less work for everyone. And the work that remains often doesn’t feel like “work” at all: cooking dinner for your own family night after night is a chore. Sharing a meal with another family is a delight.
This is probably the most important item on the list. All the other tenets of a healthy community, like being able to get in touch with other parents, seeing other families in-person, etc, are all in service of being able to give and receive help.
Parents are so afraid to ask for help or even to accept offers to help. But in my experience, most people actually love getting the opportunity to help someone. It feels amazing to be of service. And even when I’m inconveniencing myself by helping another family, it makes my life feel more meaningful to know I’m part of an interwoven web of care.
Now that I’ve written this whole post, it occurs to me that the simplest and maybe most important way to tell how healthy your community is:
You can ask for help without feeling guilt, stress, or anxiety …
… and people happily step up for you.
If you can do that, you’re almost certainly on the right track!
My focus is parenting communities, especially for parents of kids age 4 - 14. But if that’s not you, you’ll still find lots of great ideas here to adapt to your situation!
Or makes parents feel like that’s what they should aspire to even if they can’t afford it.



This essay is brilliant. Inviting readers to share examples of what it looks like to have a village is such a smart, community-building idea. It not only helps define what a “village” truly means but also creates one in the process — connecting people through shared stories and ideas.
Even more valuable is seeing real, practical examples from other people’s lives — things we can try ourselves. Genius.
I especially love your insight:
“Parents are so afraid to ask for help or even to accept offers to help. But in my experience, most people actually love getting the opportunity to help someone. It feels amazing to be of service.”
Yes! So true. I wish everyone understood this to their core. There’s only one road to a genuine village — through the act of offering and asking for help.
As an example, whenever I feel I need a bigger village, I start offering and doing things for others — usually in an intense batch mode. I’ll bake three batches of cookies, chat with my neighbor over the fence, send my kiddos with little cookie care packs, call a few people to catch up, visit an aunt or cousin (always with the kids and cookies), and invite a family over for a playdate — and, of course, more cookies.
I share this for anyone who feels overwhelmed by the idea of “driving” the offering every day. You don’t have to. I do it in bursts — then, inevitably, the next month I’m met with offers, help, connection, and a deep sense of belonging. We can drive it once, then cruise for weeks just by participating.
I think a lot of us have forgotten that asking for help isn’t a burden. Asking for help is an invitation into someone's life, into meaningful connection.. It means: you belong to me, and I belong to you. That makes the difference between just living near people and actually living with them.