Category: Motherhood

This is the face of a Mom. A Mom who was excited to sit down for a family dinner.

A Mom who cooked the food her family loves because she had the time to that day. A Mom who was looking forward to a family dinner together because her husband was home in time that night.

A Mom who said “Okay, time for family dinner!” only to be inundated with complaints of “No I don’t want family dinner! Not family dinner! We want to watch something!” from both her kids.

A Mom who decided she didn’t feel like forcing her kids to sit at the table & have a nice dinner together. A Mom who took their plates straight to the TV & turned on a show in silence. A Mom who took her husband’s plate to the computer where he was finishing dictations from the day. A Mom who never said a word & sat down at the table by herself. A Mom who got up to get something to drink & turned back around only to find her 5 year old son sitting across from her spot.

At the table. ⁣

With the TV show still on in the den, he’d come over without her saying a word about it. And they started a family dinner.

Then little sister came over. And then Dad said “If we’re doing a family dinner, wait for me” and paused all his work & came over, too.⁣

This is the face of a Mom who excused herself and went to her bathroom & bawled her eyes out. The face of a Mom who had been on the verge of crying because she felt so unappreciated but who ended up crying because she felt so loved.

The face of a Mom who got that family dinner.

Mamas, when you feel like you’re failing & under appreciated (which you are), or like your kids don’t listen or respect you, or like you give everything to everyone (which you do)…

Know this: Your Momming is enough. And it’s sticking with them even when you think it’s not. And you are enough. More than enough actually. They’re lucky to have you.

And they know it. Even if they don’t always show it. ♥️

(which they should, but they’re only human)

By the way, family dinner has always been one of my favorite things. Ever. It was when I was growing up and it still is now that I’m a grown up. And, family dinner is important.

(Like super important).

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In the 4 years since starting C’MON MAMA, I’ve only “introduced” myself once. I don’t talk too much about myself on here mainly because C’MON MAMA is less about ME and more about US.

We’re all different but we’re the same. And living different versions of the same thing: Motherhood.

But, here goes nothing.

Hi, I’m Mama. 👋🏼 Just like you.

And here are 5 things about me you probably didn’t know:

1. I wasn’t in a sorority in college, but I was president of our National Chemistry Fraternity chapter, and my official title was Grand Master Alchemist. Yes, I was cool. 😎

2. I studied BioChemistry & Psych in college & was full steam ahead for medical school until I had an awakening & abruptly changed my mind. After years of setting myself up for a career in medicine, that decision unnerved virtually everyone around me…except me. Somehow I was sure.

3. Following that about-face I had an amazingly fun run as Jessica Biel’s stand-in & stunt double. It was fun, crazy, exciting & I met all kinds of people, childhood crush included. I got to work with Academy Award winners & music phenoms & lots of amazing people in between. Those experiences brought some amazing connections & opened some incredible doors.

4. I decided to move away and walk through those doors, so I sold everything I owned, rented out my house, signed a lease far away, and packed my car. Then, when I was just a few weeks out from moving, I met my now-husband. I pretty much fell in love with him on the spot. I totally had that “the one” feeling…and I’d been engaged before & never had that, so I knew it when I felt it. I was torn, but I knew I could always move a few months later & see what those adventures held for me…and I knew if I left right then I’d always wonder about him. I stayed. He asked if I wanted to unpack my car so I could actually see out of the back (it was fully packed for a cross-country move), and I said no because if we unpacked my car then I’d be moved in. He said, “Exactly.” So we did and that was that. It turns out it (and HE) was the best decision of my life. 11 years & 2 kids later, I’ve never looked back.

5. I’ve always been a major overachiever with huge dreams & plans. Before I had children, I was struggling trying to figure out what I was going to do and what my mark on the world would be. I’d quit my job in preparation for my big move, so after I met my husband I felt kind of out of place in my life for a minute in terms of what I was doing. It took me a second to find my footing again. But then, I became a Mama, and that answered everything for me. No, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I AM one of those mothers who is defined by Motherhood. And I’m okay with that. Actually, I embrace it. I know exactly what I’m doing now. I know who I am. I know the importance. MY importance. And I know my mark on the world.

Turns out I have 2 marks on this world. And I’m proud as hell of that.

So that’s a little about me. Thank you for joining me on this ride. The wildest, craziest, sweetest ride of all. 🥰

Anything else you want to know?

I lost my cool & yelled at my kids.

Like really yelled.

To be fair, my cool had been hanging by a thread for far longer than it should’ve been able to. Like all you Mamas, I’m tired, overworked, & burned out. This pandemic life is hard. I’m simultaneously living some of the sweetest, most beautiful days of my life right alongside some of the most exhausting, trying days of my life. There really aren’t any breaks and there’s really no backup. It’s just us. Which frankly is how I love it, but it’s also what’s wearing me out.

As I helped my kids clean up their rooms, I snapped and yelled at my kids. Louder than ever.

I don’t ever really YELL at my kids and I feel like I am exceedingly patient(ish) in my Motherhood. So when I just let it rip, they were pretty shocked.

And then after yelling at my kids, I shut the baby gate so no one could follow me and ran to my room and just cried. I cried because I was frustrated. At them and at myself. I cried because I was tired. I cried because I regretted yelling. I cried because they’d hurt my feelings by just making every single thing so difficult when I give them the world day in & day out. And I cried because the tears just kept coming, so I let them.

I overheard my kids talking as I tried to pull it together. My youngest went & apologized to my oldest for screaming at him & me. We’ve been working hard on apologizing & also on her not screaming (it’s her go-to emotion), so that was Validation #1: Our kids listen to what we’re trying to teach them, even when they act like (& SAY—she’s sassy, this one) they’re not.

I heard my oldest tell her thank you for the apology. Then they said “I love you” to each other. Validation #2: Our kids love & respect each other.

Then my son told my daughter to go back to her room because he thinks that’s where they’re supposed to be. Validation #3: Our kids follow directions, even when we’re not there to enforce them.

Meanwhile, of course I was listening to all that sweetness & just crying my eyes out.

I felt guilty for yelling at my precious kids, even though they’d driven me to the absolute edge with their fussing, complaints, and not listening—the list could go on.

I finally pulled it together(ish) & went back to see them.

My daughter heard me coming and said “Mama, I know you’re disappointed in me. I’m sorry for screaming and not cleaning.” She hugged me. Validation #4: Our kids have good hearts.

She commented about how I had a lot of “tearses” and then asked if I could help her go to the bathroom, because she’s 3 and also #momlife.

Then I walked in my son’s room. He had cleaned his entire room. By himself. Because he knew that’s what I had wanted from them. What I’d been trying help them with. He’d organized his desk just like I do. He’d made his bed like I do. And he was waiting patiently for me. Validation #5: Our kids really do model what we do & how we do it.

I burst out crying. If I wasn’t already overwhelmed by the emotions that washed over me after yelling at my kids, I sure as heck was now.

That precious little boy—my boy—waiting patiently for his mama to come back after she yelled & ran away from them.

That brave boy who said he cried because his heart felt “crumbled,” but then he realized he knew how to make it “turn red and pink again”—by cleaning up his room by himself & making Mama happy. (I mean, omg. My Mama heart is in pieces.)

That empathic little boy who hugged me & held me as I cried. Who soothed me just like I soothe him. Who kissed me. Who told me exactly what I always tell him—“Sometimes we just need to cry & get all the tears out, & that’s okay. You can cry as long as you want & as loud as you want.”

And guess what? I did.

I cried (or I guess I should say I kept crying). In front of my child. That’s something I never really do.

Then that little boy stood up & said—once again, verbatim what I say & do with them—“Let’s shake it off.” And he started to shake. And then I started to shake it off, too.

And when we opened our eyes from shaking like crazy, I couldn’t help but laugh. Because I was so in awe of this little being who had just walked his Mama through a total meltdown—the only true one he’d ever seen her have. (Did I mention he’s only 5?)

The same way I walk him through his meltdowns, and my daughter through hers.

Validation #6: It works. The way I love them works. And that love feels good.

That day my son made me feel how I make my children feel when I walk with them through the hard moments. He helped me catch my cool after I’d lost it, just like I do for him and his sister.

He eased my guilt over yelling at my kids, just like I ease theirs when they lose control of their emotions & yell at me or each other.

He made me feel better.

In some ways, I’m kind of glad I lost my cool & yelled at my kids. It helped me find something else that I must have really needed: Validation.

That I’m doing a good job. And that the way I “mom” is working.

Because for a few minutes that day I got to feel what my own version of “momming” feels like, and it felt good.

Validation #7: I’m a good Mom. I’m raising kind, smart, loving—and LOVED—children.

And next time they get overwhelmed with their emotions & scream or complain or fuss or cry or just have an epic meltdown, I’ll remind myself of the time I—a full grown woman—did the same thing.

Have you yelled at your kids?

(I mean like really yelled because yelling “put your shoes on!” doesn’t really count) How’d yall get through it?

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a SAHM? Or a Mom of young kids? Are you raising a black son? Are your kids completely ridiculous sometimes, too?

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As another Mother’s Day has come and gone, scrolling through any social media platform can be painful. For some, it’s a painful reminder of their mothers in heaven. For others, it’s a painful reminder of the longing they feel to be mothers themselves.

But for me, it’s a painful reminder that I am a daughter of an unloving mother.

Society turns a blind eye to the idea that there are, in fact, unloving mothers.

It seems taboo to be alienated from your own mother. To have an estranged mother. Even more so when you’re a mother yourself. When you become a mother, you innately begin to understand all your mother sacrificed for you, the love she held, the hardships she faced. Right?

But what happens when one’s idea of motherhood doesn’t fit the narrative? What happens when motherhood doesn’t come with love, compassion, or empathy?

There are mothers who can’t love.

For the longest time, I thought my mother’s behavior was just alcohol abuse. At some point during my teenage years, I thought maybe a personality disorder. Her sister was schizophrenic so I was aware that something could be hiding underneath the surface.

I used college as my “exit ticket.” I chose the college that was farthest away while still being considered in-state tuition. The distance may have been the best thing for me. I met people from different walks of life. I met my husband who comes from a healthy, loving, family. It wasn’t long before I started picking up on the fact that my family wasn’t “normal.” I knew I had a “strained” relationship with my mother, but it still felt like something else was off. Turns out what I knew as “normal,” was actually abuse.

It didn’t matter how old I was, or what life event was happening… it was always overshadowed with so much pain. Once I became pregnant with my first child, everything changed. I guess it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My eyes were finally open.

I had grown up with a revolving door of disappointment and betrayal. The lies and deceit that followed the death of my father at 15 didn’t open my eyes. Being a pawn to an abusive stepfather didn’t open my eyes. Having my mother ruin my credit before I even knew what credit was didn’t open my eyes. But once I knew I was about to be a mama, my eyes were wide open.

I was accustomed to having a manipulative mother, but now that I had a baby on the way, it just felt different.

She hated the name we picked. She wanted my baby to look just like her. She refused to attend my baby shower, claiming she was in the hospital for cancer treatments. None of our relatives knew about this mysterious cancer. None of her friends knew. I called every local hospital in her area, all of which had zero record of her. The lies began to snowball. She claimed she only had 6 months to live. Once I stopped returning her calls, her claims of 6 months turned into 3 months.

Turns out, it was all a lie. Every bit of it made up to turn the attention away from the baby and onto her. This wasn’t the first time. Any big life event (my graduation, bridal shower, wedding) all had to be overshadowed by HER life crisis.

I will never forget the day the doctor told me I was having a little girl. I cried… and they were not tears of joy. The only thing I could think was “How am I supposed to raise a little girl when I had such a terrible example to go by?”

I made the choice to completely cut my mother out of my life. It wasn’t easy but I knew that the remainder of my pregnancy didn’t need the additional stress. I was so crushed by the lies and deceit. It was time to do some serious soul searching.

I started researching books on daughters with estranged mothers.

I desperately needed someone to relate to…something to let me know I wasn’t alone. My friends and my husband’s family tried so hard to be supportive, but they simply couldn’t relate. Finally, I stumbled upon a disorder known as Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). Let me preface this by stating, I am no doctor. However, a lot of what is described by NPD really struck a chord with me. I started ordering books by clinical professionals, particularly books aimed toward daughters of Narcissistic abuse. I was completely floored.

I spent months reading these books. Months putting together pieces of my childhood that I had locked away in a closet. There was just so much abuse that came to light upon reading these books. John Newton’s Amazing Grace couldn’t fit more perfectly. “I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

You see, it wasn’t me.

All the abuse, the lies, the manipulation, the gaslighting. It wasn’t me. There was never anything wrong with me. I wasn’t unlovable.

Despite my revelations, childbirth was approaching, and I was apprehensive about giving birth without a mother figure. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in 4 months. I had my husband, who is the most amazing man and best supporter I could ever ask for. But society tells you “you need your mama.” That just wasn’t something I could handle. I wanted my baby’s birth to be about her and not overshadowed by my mother’s attendance. Plus, I wasn’t in a place where I was ready to forgive her quite yet.

About a week before my baby was due, I wrote myself a letter. I reminded myself of all the abuse, the heartache, the betrayal. And I reminded myself that I didn’t need her. I was going to be enough for my baby. I didn’t want a moment of weakness to undo the incredible progress I had made in my soul-searching journey. I was finally at a point in my life where I understood and accepted my past and how it had shaped me, but I also strived for a much brighter future.

And then it happened—my baby girl was born.

Everything changed.

My daughter is now almost 3 years old and every day I look at her and think, “I am so thankful God gave me you.” He knew exactly what my heart needed. There’s no way I could ever treat her the way my mother treated me. There’s no way I could never NOT put her first.

As the daughter of an estranged mother, I worried I wouldn’t know how to bond with her—but she’s truly my best friend.

The more open I am about my past has also opened other doors. A distant college friend has transformed into my best friend. Why? Turns out our mothers are so identical that it’s almost scary. Choosing not to be silent about my experience has led me to one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.

I’ve also grown incredibly close with my mother-in-law (I’m blessed, I know). She was in the room the day my daughter was delivered, and she loves my daughter so unconditionally that it makes my heart sing. I have also found solace in finally having a healthy mother figure of my own. I know not all mothers-in-law are pleasant, but I hit the jackpot with mine.

Society tells you: “You need your mama.” For those of us with abusive & unloving mothers, I’m here to tell you: you don’t.

I’m also here to tell you that motherhood can be truly triggering for those of us who come from abusive childhoods.

My daughter is the best thing I’ve ever done. She’s the highlight of my day. But there are moments when I feel so overwhelmed, so tired, so “touched-out” that I can hear my mother in the back of my head. It’s tormenting. I hear myself responding in the ways my mother would have and an irrational anger rises in me. I know most moms have these moments, but for those of us who grew up with unloving or estranged mothers…it hits deeper. We know what it’s like to feel unloved. We get hit with that irrational anger followed by the fear and guilt of “what if I end up just like my mother?” Even just the mention of my mother can send me to a dark place. It’s a work in progress.

So mamas, listen up. You do not have to sacrifice the state of your mental well-being to hold space for someone who brings you nothing but pain.

And you won’t be like your unloving mother. Even when you hear her in the corners of your mind… you. are. not. her.

But mostly…. you’re not alone. Society frowns on being alienated from your mother, and I find that it feels like such a lonely club to be in when it doesn’t have to be.

You are exactly what your child needs. You will break the cycle. You will show your children unconditional love.

None of us are perfect. We all have our days.

But being a daughter of an unloving mother doesn’t make you any less worthy of being a mama.

And your babies are blessed to yours.

Suggested reading for anyone who may be struggling:

• It’s My Turn: How to gain freedom from a manipulating and self-centered parent by Tina Fuller
• Will I Ever Be Good Enough?:Healing the Daughter’s of Narcissistic Mothers by Dr. Karyl McBride Ph. D.
• Mothers Who Can’t Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters by Susan Forward
• You’re Not Crazy – It’s Your Mother: Understanding and Healing for Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers by Danu Morrigan

This was a guest post written for C’MON MAMA by one of the amazing Mamas in our community. She wishes to remain anonymous, but she wanted to reach other Mamas who may have lived a similar story. We are honored to amplify her voice and perspective.

If you’re interested in writing for C’MON MAMA, contact us. We’d love to hear from more amazing Mothers like this brave Mama.

Did you grow up with an unloving mother? Do you have an estranged mother?

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a SAHM? A BOYMOM? Have you ever been mom-shamed?

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Turns out the perfect guy does exist. Just ask a BOYMOM.

Trust me, she will tell you. She’ll tell you that her little boy is the perfect guy.

And she’ll be right.

Because little boys are the dreamiest.

Everyone always talks about how much little boys love their Mamas. To be honest, I kind of thought that was just something people said when they find out you’re having a little boy. Like you might be disappointed that you’re not having a little girl, so they tell you how much little boys love their Mamas to make you feel better.

My first child was a little boy. He made me a Mom. A #BOYMOM.

When I was pregnant, everyone under the sun would tell me “Ohhhh, little boys sure do love their Mamas” whey they found out I was expecting a baby boy. I didn’t really believe them, but it didn’t matter because I was overjoyed about having a baby & already excited to join the famous #BOYMOM club.

But 6+ years into being a BOYMOM, I can tell you that they’re right. Little boys really do love their Mamas.

In a way that only little boys can.

And 6+ years into being a BOYMOM, I can tell you something else, too:

That little boy of yours is quite honestly the perfect guy.

Little boys are the most innocently romantic creatures on the face of the earth. I don’t know when they lose that, but my 6 year old son has the most tender heart I’ve ever encountered.

As wild and crazy as we #boymoms see our little dudes act, we also get to see them abruptly stop in the middle of a raging game of chase to kiss our forehead—before taking right back off & not missing a single beat.

There’s really no such thing as the perfect guy, unless you’re talking about your young son. Because in that case, the perfect guy really does exist.

Every #boymom has found the perfect guy. He’s her little boy, and he’s what dreams are made of…

Because…

He’ll tell you you’re beautiful when you take your hair down from your daily ponytail…or mom bun. Even if it’s a hot mess.

He’ll notice when you wear different earrings—he’ll know that they’re new & that he’s never seen them before.

He’ll find his sister’s tiny pony tail holders on the floor and propose to you with them.

He’ll pick every flower he can find just for you, and tell you to put them in a vase to keep them safe.

He’ll tell you he’ll always take care of you and always be yours. (and you’ll believe him even though he’s decades behind you)

He’ll put your face in his (often sticky or filthy) hands and look into your eyes in the sweetest way you’ve ever experienced.

He’ll tell you the totally uncensored, unfiltered, unsugarcoated truth. For better or for worse.

And he’ll somehow do it tenderly. Like the time I had a raging eye infection and he told me I was still beautiful even though my eye “looked super smushy.”

He’ll ask you to snuggle with him regularly.

He’s big on the PDA. And never afraid to show it. He doesn’t care who’s watching.

He’ll have a favorite outfit you wear. And he’ll always tell you how much he loves it when you wear it.

He’ll hug you so hard that you’ll know he means it, yet so soft that you’ll know he’s trying to be gentle.

He’ll pick up every leaf he finds on the ground and give it to you as a little token of his love.

He’ll think you’re gorgeous even when the rest of the world acknowledges the hot mess you really are.

He’ll idolize you. In a beautiful, healthy way.

He’ll go from being a total wild child to the ultimate snuggle bug the second you reach your arms out.

He’ll constantly bring you the special rocks he finds.

He’ll actually gasp—out loud—when you get dressed up. (Ahem, men—take note.)

He’ll tell you he’ll miss you during the night when you tuck him in, because the morning when he gets to see you again is too far away.

He’ll notice how soft your shirt is.

And your fingernail polish. He’ll always notice when you change your polish.

He’ll make you bracelets out of play-doh and pizza dough. And you’ll wear them like they’re made of diamonds because, well—they might as well be.

He’ll hold your hand. Tightly. For the world to see.

And he’ll hold you when you cry. Even when he’s a little kid. He’ll comfort you like you comfort him.

He’ll want to protect you even when he’s a quarter of your size. And he’ll be so confident about it that you’ll almost believe he can.

He’ll want you to be the villain so he can be the superhero (over & over & over), and then when he’s finally exhausted from saving the world he’ll ask, “Can you be Mama again now?”

He’ll make you feel more loved & adored than you ever thought possible.

He’ll make you so thankful that you get to be a BOYMOM. Because there’s really nothing quite like it.

He’s your son, and he’s perfect.

Whew, little boys will make you swoon.

And sweat. And run. And keep you on your toes.

But boy oh boy will they melt your heart.

Romeo’s got nothing on a little boy. 💙

BOYMOMS know:

If you want to find the perfect guy, just look to your son.

Are YOU a #BOYMOM? What do you love most about it?

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a SAHM? Or a Mom raising a black son? Have you ever been mom-shamed?

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I’m a cautious, smart mom and my child choked. And it was my fault.

I didn’t lose him. Thank God I didn’t. But it was as real as real comes, and it was terrifying.

It was textbook choking. He was silent. He didn’t make a peep. He wasn’t coughing. He wasn’t gagging. He wasn’t flailing his arms. He was still. He was quiet. And he had an expression on his face that I’ve never seen on that precious little face before.

That’s how I knew it was real.

The sound of my sister’s voice. I knew. The way she said my name. It was quiet but it was different. Just hearing her tone, I immediately knew something was wrong with my son. I looked at him. I knew. There was no sound. I knew. His eyes were big and there was a look of worry. Helplessness, panic and worry. I knew.

My child was choking.

I shifted him forward in his chair and hit his back very hard several times.

I looked at him. Still no sound, still the same look in his eyes.

I felt the panic and the “Oh my god that didn’t work” wash over me.

I stood him up and slammed my hand into his back as hard as I could. Over and over again.

I didn’t know what else to do. And at the same time I knew the next thing I had to do was bend him over the chair in front of me or try the Heimlich.

I’ve never actually done the Heimlich. I know what you’re supposed to do but I wouldn’t say I know how to do it.

I’d lost my voice a few days earlier so I couldn’t even scream for help. I needed my sister to yell for a doctor or nurse.

My mind was racing a million miles an hour. And yet it was like everything was happening in slow motion. Slow enough for my mind to process the gravity of what was happening even as it was happening.

I was still beating his back as hard as I possibly could. I wasn’t worried about hurting him. I was worried about saving him.

Finally, I heard him cry my name through a weak sob.

I pulled him into my arms. I couldn’t breathe. Oh my God, I could’ve lost my child. Losing a child—or them losing me—is my biggest fear in the world. And I almost had.

My child choked.

I’d managed to get it up. Or out. Or at least shifted it so he could breathe.

I had done the first thing I could think to do. I don’t know if it was the right thing. Yes, it worked, but what if it hadn’t?

I send my regular babysitters to get trained in CPR & the like, but I hadn’t gone myself. It had been “on my list” for a long time. But I hadn’t done it. How arrogant of me to think I’d know what to do just because I’m the Mother.

I’m vigilant with their safety.

I use “leashes” in huge public settings. I’m scared of them running into the road. I’m terrified of kidnapping. I have them in survival swim lessons.

I worry about what they eat. What’s in the food I give them. How it impacts their growing bodies.

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I’m the Mom who cuts my kids’ grapes vertically every single time. And when those grape halves look too big, I cut them again. (**I finally bought this grape cutter, and it is THE BEST. Wish I had bought it years ago. It does a 4-way vertical slice, which is key. It’s super fast to use & I can even do it one-handed. My kids LOVE to use it, which is honestly a nice help. And unlike a lot of others, this one can cut way more than grapes. We use it for strawberries, cucumbers, olives & so much more. Get it now. Trust me.) 

I’m also wary of whole bananas. Ice. Hot dogs. Peanuts. Popcorn. The list goes on…

I don’t like my children to eat with a sitter when I’m not there.

I’m careful. But still, my child choked.

I’m smart. But still, my child choked.

I’m a good Mom. And still, my child choked.

And it would’ve been my fault.

I made the mistake. I’m the one who thought a peanut M&M would be okay. I made that call.

We were at the theater. I don’t let my kids eat popcorn because it’s one of the main choking hazards for young kids. And yet I somehow thought peanut M&Ms would be okay.

I thought it would be okay because I’m careful. And because HE is careful. He chews. He tells his little sister to “take bites.” He is an excellent listener and a cautious child. So I thought it would be okay.

I had even momentarily hesitated and thought about it. And I ultimately decided it was okay.

I was wrong.

In one instant, everything could have changed. And I was almost completely helpless to save him. I’ve never felt so powerless in my entire life.

Even a medical professional might not have been able to save him if I hadn’t been able to. There are no guarantees.

Yes, I know “anything can happen to anyone at anytime.”

But that’s not what this is about. This is about me as a Mother making a mistake that could’ve cost my child everything. A Mother who loves her children more than she could have ever dreamed. A Mother who guards them with her life. A Mother just like you.

I’m just trying to say—it can happen to any one of us. Even the “careful” ones.

I took a CPR class the first chance I got. I hope with my entire being I never feel that helpless again.

And as careful as I am, I can be more so. I hesitated about the peanut M&M. My mom gut questioned it. And my mom brain or heart or who knows what overruled it.

Such a tiny little thing could’ve destroyed my entire world. I’m sharing this so others can think twice. And so we as parents can make sure we are as trained/prepared for an emergency with our children as we can be.

I wasn’t.

I wasn’t trained. And I sure wasn’t prepared.

I’m not afraid to say that I’m a great Mom. I am. But I almost failed my child. And in a way, I did fail him. Because I guide what is “okay” for him to do, eat, watch—you name it. He looks to me. And I thought it was okay. So, so did he.

He recovered quickly so we stayed at the show that night. He’d been so looking forward to it. The second I tucked him in and shut the door that night I just sobbed and sobbed. I went into our bedroom and told my husband what had happened. That our child choked. I couldn’t stop crying.

I was carrying the shock that I could have lost him. And the guilt that it was my fault that my child choked.

And I was carrying the weight of wanting to tell everyone in the world so it wouldn’t happen to them, yet not wanting to tell anyone because the heaviness of it was too much to repeat. It was the closest call of my life.

The day after it happened I called my sister to make sure it was as real as it felt. She told me it was. And that it had been shocking and she’d gone home and taken a long shower and cried and thanked God over & over that he was okay. I asked her to tell our mom and sister what happened because I couldn’t bear talking about it yet.

A few days later I spoke to my son about it. He remembered it. He remembered being scared and he remembered that I really hurt his back. No, he hadn’t been playing or jumping up and down or being silly. He’d been sitting calmly waiting for the show.

My child choked not because he was moving around or playing at the table or being silly or talking with his mouth full.

The truth is he choked because I gave him something I shouldn’t have. It’s important to remember that it can happen in any circumstance.

Years later, I am still reeling from this. That experience has shaped much of how I parent.

Sure, I may be more careful than some other Moms. I’m okay with that. I’m confident enough to tell another parent or even my kids’ school that my kids can’t have popcorn. I’m concerned enough to ask the hard questions of my kids’ school & teachers: Are they CPR/BLS Trained? Every year? I’m wary enough of my children choking to ask that my parents & anyone who watches them be trained.

We also regularly talk about choking safety and eating safety at home—all the time, actually. And how we can all be more careful. They notice that their friends may eat different things than they do or eat food cut up differently than theirs (or not cut at all), and they are confident enough to not let it phase them. That’s why talking about it with them is so important.

I remember talking to my husband about how inadequate I felt that I had no training on how to save my choking child. About how I was going to take a CPR/Basic Lifesaving Skills class immediately. He’s a surgeon. He told me the Heimlich is very effective. I asked “How effective?” His answer: “About 85% of the time.” My mouth dropped. I blurted out, “That’s it?! That’s all? That’s not good enough!”

Did you know that a child dies from choking every 5 days in the US? I didn’t. My child choked. He could’ve been a statistic.

So what can we do?

We can educate ourselves about the main choking hazards for children. (*Keep in mind that my son was 4.5—just because your child isn’t 2 years old anymore doesn’t mean he or she can’t choke.) We can take the life-saving skills classes & know what to do. Heimlich is one of the ways to save the life of someone choking. There are others. Like the back blows I did. And CPR. And we can make sure our babysitters and schools and day cares are trained.

We can make sure we don’t take any of it lightly. Because I can assure you, if your child is choking, it will feel anything but light. It will feel like the heaviest terror you can imagine.

Think of it this way:

It’s like preparing for the biggest test of your life—don’t you want to be as prepared as possible? Especially when it could mean life or death?

I let my kids eat popcorn until I read a post a Mom wrote about almost losing her 2 year old son to a piece of popcorn. I let them eat nuts until I read a Mother’s article about how her child choked to death on an almond. Reading those things breaks my heart into a million pieces but also makes me even more aware.

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A post shared by C’MON MAMA (@cmon.mama) on Jun 16, 2020 at 12:08pm PDT

Mamas, I’m not trying to guilt you. Or mom-shame you. But I might be trying to scare you.

Scare you into getting the proper training and scare you into thinking twice. About the lollipop in the car (guilty). About the hot dog or piece of ice. Or maybe the spoonful of peanut butter. Or the latex balloon.

Because your child could choke.

Even if you’re a careful Mama, like me.

—

Update: I took a CPR/Basic Life Support (BLS) class. I cannot recommend it highly enough. I know it’s tough to find the time. I know it’s tough to find the money. But, the peace of mind it gives you is worth every penny & every minute. You will not regret it. I cannot believe I didn’t do this sooner. I feel so much more secure in my Motherhood. Do it. Look for a class in your area asap. We can raise our kids, we can mold & teach our kids, we can love our kids…but we also need to know how to save them when we can.

Has your child choked or have you ever had a choking scare? Do you have any pointers? Tell me more in the comments.

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a Stay at Home Mom? Or scared to fly since having kids? Do you have Mom Burnout? (I did, so I found a cure)

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The quality of that picture matches the quality of the night: rough. But the message of the picture matches, too: love. Love…and a little grace.

My kids completely unraveled me a few nights ago. First in the not-good-I’m-about-to-lose-it kind of way, and then in the OMG-I-couldn’t-possibly-love-them-more kind of way.

My husband was working late that night and I was going it alone with 2 kids who were being completely ridiculous.

They were struggling. They were tired. They weren’t listening.

They were starving. And they were complaining about every little thing.

I don’t like corn dogs.

Actually I do like corn dogs, but just not those.

I don’t want yogurt because I don’t want something cold to eat.

I meannn, Oh. My. God. We all know those days.

After a dinner that was anything but enjoyable, we went to take the dog out, and they lost a toy in a bush outside. It was dark out so I needed a flashlight to find it. Well, we had approximately 0 working flashlights in the garage so I managed to find a headlamp (ha) & then they both fell apart because of course they both wanted to wear it.

As I worked to unmelt the meltdowns our dog got loose…and did I mention it was dark outside?

I didn’t want my dog to get lost or hit by a car and I needed to really be able to search—quickly—for him. If you’re a parent you know that kids are never quick when you need them be. It’s kind of a like a law or something.

And since my kids had already been fussing & complaining & just generally ridiculous (kids are something), I put them in timeout in the garage so they would be still & in a safe spot while I looked for our dog. I knew they wouldn’t budge. I threw on the headlamp, ran around calling for him like a maniac, found him, drug him to the bushes so I could find their toy, found it, took a deep breath and ran back in the garage only to be faced with two kids absolutely crying their little eyes out.

And I do mean bawling.

They were terrified. Terrified because I’d left them sitting there while I went outside to search for our dog. Terrified because they were worried about me out there in the dark by myself. Terrified because they were worried about themselves in the garage all alone. Terrified because they were worried something had happened to our dog.

They were—in a word—a wreck.

My 6 year old half-asked and half-begged, “Can we still get a hug in timeout?”

My heart dropped. As low as it could possibly go.

In my hurry to try and find our dog before he got too far away, and in an effort to keep my kids somewhere safe & contained, I’d basically said “sit down, don’t move, I’ll be back” and ran out into the night. In their eyes.

But in my eyes I’d basically done the impossible—single-handedly. Found my dog, kept everyone safe, & found the toy that started the monumental downward spiral of the evening.

We did not see it the same way. Any of it.

“Can we still get a hug in timeout?”

That hit me so hard.

I ran over, scooped them up, and held them on the rough garage floor while they got it all out.

And let me tell you, that took awhile. They had a lot to get out.

Kids have big feelings. HUGE ones. Probably even bigger than ours as adults because the world hasn’t desensitized them to anything yet. And I love that about kids and honestly I hope they never become desensitized to any their feelings.

But sometimes in all their complete & total unreasonable-ness we forget that they are literally trying to learn how to navigate this great big world.

Heck, I’m the grown up and I’m still learning to navigate it. And sometimes I get overwhelmed, too. And sometimes I’m ridiculous.

Sometimes I can’t get decide what I want to eat. Sometimes nothing sounds good. Sometimes I’m too tired to make a decision on what I want to watch & we end up watching 2 hours of movie previews because I couldn’t pick one. Sometimes I get hangry and lash out for no reason. Sometimes I’m worn out and impatient when I shouldn’t be.

I’ll be the first to admit that I can be completely absurd sometimes, too. And you know what? I usually have grace with myself when I am. (and I certainly ask for grace from those around me. ahem, *looking at my husband because the hanger/tired struggle is all too real & he handles MY meltdowns with ease*)

The point is, when I’m out of wack, I give myself some grace.

So I can at least offer the same to my kids.

And no, I’m not excusing their less-than-stellar behavior. They got put in timeout and we didn’t end up having the movie night we’d planned. Honestly it was kind of a terrible night. And stressful for all of us.

But I didn’t withhold any amount of love as we worked through the insanity. I hugged them, I held them, and I let them cry it all out.

Then I threw them in the bed as fast as possible because boy did they need it. And so did I.

I made sure to end the night by snuggling and singing to them. They needed extra love. And honestly, I needed to give it.

Because the only thing that could make me feel better & save me from an epic guilt trip was giving them that extra love—to try and erase the shit show that we’d just stumbled our way through.

We all took a few deep breaths together and agreed to a fresh “restart” the next day.

As they each fell asleep, my older child said he was “just too exhausted” and my younger child said she was “actually not exhausted at all.”

Typical.

Want more on Motherhood? —>

Have you ever yelled at your kids? (like really yelled) Do you agree that Sometimes TV is Exactly what Our Kids Need?

Want to see the face of a Mom who just wanted a family dinner? (I’m sure you can relate)

Are you a SAHM? Or a Mom of young kids?

Like this post? Join MAMA’s email list to get more like this. All things MOMish—the MOMents + MOMfessions, & all the Mama Must-Haves!

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Yes, Mom-Shaming is a thing. And yes, it might be a little bit out of control.

But maybe not in the way you might think.

I’ve been a mother for 6+ years now.

And in that time, I’ve seen Moms shame other moms for everything under the sun. But then I’ve also seen the same Moms who were mom-shamed start mom-shaming those other Mamas right back. Did you get all that? Because that’s a whole lot of shame.

We’re not all the same. We don’t all like the same food. We have different favorite drinks. Some of us are homebodies and some of us are social butterflies (or vultures, depending on who you are). Some of us are beach babes. Others are mountain chicks. Some of us wear makeup and some of us don’t. The point is, we don’t even all pick the same kind of gum, why on earth do we think we would all pick the same way to parent?

When mom-shaming first came on my radar, it went kind of like this:

A “snobby” mom who would only feed her kids organic food, nothing processed, no refined sugar, thought formula to be sub-par, made her own baby food, etc. etc. (I think you get the point) would mom-shame a mother who didn’t do all those things, and make her feel like she wasn’t as good of a mom because she “obviously” didn’t care about her kid’s wellbeing.

That was complete BS, of course. And still is.

But not every mother who feeds her kid organic was like that then and they aren’t all like that now. Some does not equal all. I feed my kids organic. I don’t judge you for not.

The weird thing is that over the years I’ve seen mom-shaming evolve into something different. The mom-shaming I see the most now is the polar opposite of what I first saw. Now I see mothers shame other moms for doing all those same things I listed above.

“Oh you feed your kid organic?……Cool, we go to McDonalds.”

That kind of thing.

“You breastfed your kid?……Yeah, I hated it. I wanted to have a life.”

Hand me some aloe because that was a burn.

It’s almost like I’m witnessing a contest to see who can be the coolest, most laid-back, IDGAF Mom out there. And that’s such a weird title to vy for.

And here’s the thing. These moms are just as bad as the original “holier than thou” mom-shaming mamas.

There’s no difference. Both are still mom-shaming other Mothers.

And both should be ashamed.

I fall somewhere in the middle of those two mama caricatures. Yes, I want the absolute best for my kids. I want to feed them the best, I want to nourish their growing little bodies, and I don’t want them stuffed with hormones or fillers or antibiotics (from the food they consume or from their doctors). But I also love Chick-fil-A (and they do, too), I vaccinate, I always want the antibiotic for backup in case we can’t kick whatever it is. I’m currently worried my kids are getting way too much sugar even though I continue to offer them treats. We don’t drink juice. I buy the expensive milk. We go to Krispy Kreme and Dunkin’ Donuts. We eat mac & cheese & ice cream some nights and a meat & 2 veggies & a grain other nights.

In short, I do the best I can. I don’t think I do it perfectly. I mean, I know I don’t. And I am learning everyday. I’m learning how to better care for my kids. Learning what is good and bad for them. Learning what matters and what doesn’t in the big scheme of things. And I’ll never stop.

I don’t want to be made to feel bad for any of it.

It doesn’t make you a superior Mom just because you only buy—and can afford to only buy—the “healthiest food” for your kids.

And it doesn’t make you a cool Mom to not give a shit about their food either.

And if you boast about either of those things, it just makes you a mean Mom.

While we’re at it, there’s a hugely important factor in surviving Motherhood. And that’s a sense of humor. I’m not sure how you could be a parent without it. In fact, I think the quickest way to find a sense of humor is probably to have kids. Parenthood elevates you and humbles the hell out of you all at once.

But, having a sense of humor and making fun of other Moms and how they parent are not the same thing. Don’t get those two confused.

Laughing together about the absolute insanity of raising little beings is one thing. Laughing at parents who do it differently than you is another.

Mom-shaming a Mother for caring too much is every bit as bad as shaming a Mom for caring too little.

It’s like there is this popular breed of mama right now that is non-judgy in a way that makes them judgy.

Hating a hater doesn’t make you a lover.

Bullying a bully doesn’t make you good person.

And mom-shaming a mom-shamer doesn’t make you a better mom.

A double negative might make a positive in math, but this is real life. And it doesn’t work that way.

I don’t want to be mom-shamed for letting my kids have too much sugar.

Or for not letting them have juice.

And I don’t want to be mom-shamed for only buying organic.

I don’t want to be mom-shamed for breastfeeding my children for 18 months and 14 months.

And I don’t want to be mom-shamed for loving breastfeeding.

I don’t want to be mom-shamed for going on date nights and having babysitters regularly. (Pre-Covid, obvi. RIP date nights. Hope to see you again one day.)

I don’t want to be mom-shamed for being a stay at home mom.

And I don’t want to be mom-shamed for not letting my kids sleep in my bed.

Or for holding them for a 3 hour nap when they beg me to stay.

Don’t mom-shame me for being religious about nap time. That time is sacred & saves me from mom burnout.

And stop mom-shaming me for identifying most as a Mother. Of course I freaking identify as a Mother. It’s my heart + life + job + responsibilities + world rolled into one. How could it not define me?

Stop mom-shaming me for traveling and leaving my kids at home. Or for being too scared to fly and leave them behind. I’ve done both.

Or for being too enthusiastic or caring too much about something in my kid’s life.

Don’t mom-shame me for potty-training my kid later than you think I should.

And don’t mom-shame me for letting my kids play with the phone at the table after they’ve finished eating and we still haven’t gotten our entrees.

Or for not letting them play with the phone. I get to make those decisions. Me.

Don’t shame me about screen time. Sometimes watching TV is exactly what kids need.

And no more mom-shaming for not volunteering for every single thing at my child’s school or for not wanting to be in charge. I want my time & energy to go toward my own kids above anything else. I’m selfish that way.

I don’t want to be mom-shamed for loving motherhood. And I mean really, truly, unabashedly loving it. To the point that I even love the sticky child handprints all over my house. Yes I still have a life outside of Motherhood. But my favorite part of my life is Motherhood. No shame in my Mama game.

I don’t want to be mom-shamed for worrying too much about my children.

Or for watching them too closely on the playground and creeping on total helicopter status.

Or for okaying a piece of candy that my child choked on. (Yes, this happened, it was my fault, & the most terrifying moment of my life.)

And definitely don’t mom-shame me for kissing their boo boos. I have a select number of years that they will even let me do this. If they want me to kiss their booboo you bet your ass I’m going to smother them with kisses and make it all better. Because I can. Because at this point in their little lives Mama can fix it. And while I can fix it, I’m going to fix it. Yes, I know they’re alright. You really think I don’t know when my kids are okay and when they’re not? It doesn’t matter to me if “it’s just a scratch” — I’ve probably got 10 years tops of kissing booboos. I’ll kiss every one I can. My child can still be brave and tough and want Mama to kiss his booboo.

So, stop mom-shaming me for making my kids too soft.

Or for making them too hard. For not believing in tough love. Or for being stricter than you think I should be.

There are many different types of mom-shaming. And all of them are wrong.

(Oh, and for the record: When someone says the whole “The days are long but the years are short” thing to you, they’re not mom-shaming you. They’re giving you some solidarity & perspective. Take it.)

Have you ever been mom-shamed? Tell me more in the comments.

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a Stay at Home Mom? Want to see the face of a Mom who just wanted a family dinner? Were you a Dog Mom first? (me too) Do you have an estranged Mother?

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Something hit me hard a few nights ago. I was overwhelmed, tired, not feeling totally like myself…and I just couldn’t kick it.

One of my fave shows was premiering for the season that night, and I gave myself the break to sit down and watch it. I laughed & sat still (and snuggled with my husband) for a mere 22 minutes and IT FELT GREAT.

And more than that, I felt so much better afterwards. I felt lighter & a little renewed just by sitting down & watching something totally mindless & funny for a few minutes.

And it dawned on me that THIS is what it must feel like for our kids sometimes, too. We get so caught up in the whole screen time debate & trying not to overdo it on screen time that we might forget how good it feels to just sit down & watch TV sometimes.

To laugh. To veg out. To sit still.

It feels good.

In fact, I bet it feels as good to THEM as it does to US.

Because sometimes our kids need to veg out, too.

In many ways, childhood is to kids what adulthood is to us—though I know we never look at it that way. But it really is. Childhood is their reality just like adulthood is ours.

Childhood is fun & freeing & exciting…and exhausting & overwhelming. They get overworked and tired, too. And they get stressed. Yes, even our little ones.

Honestly just sitting down & watching that one show that night helped turn my entire mood around. I enjoyed it and dare I say I needed it. But the truth is, I did.

So what if instead of pushing our kids to do something “worthwhile” all the time, we sometimes just let them do “nothing?” What if we let them totally veg out?

And here’s the biggie—what if we didn’t feel bad or guilty about it?

That night I asked my husband to scoot closer so we could snuggle. He did, and it made me feel better.

And something about that hit me hard, too.

Snuggling with my hubby made me feel better…exactly like it makes my kids feel better when I pull them close after they ask me to snuggle them.

So, what if when they asked us to snuggle them, we sometimes just stopped what we were doing and oh, I don’t know—snuggled them?

It sounds so simple, wonderful & easy…and yet I find myself seldom just sitting down to chill out with them.

I usually turn on the TV for them to watch so I can take care of other things. I rarely put it on to watch with them. But when I do, they absolutely LOVE it.

Kids are mini versions of us. Sometimes what feels good to us might feel just as good to them. TV. Comfort food. Snuggles. Laughing.

So much to think about. But I’ll think more about it later.

Because right now I’m going to call my kids over to the couch & turn on a show.

Or 10.

And I’m not going to feel guilty about it.

And I’m going to make a point to snuggle with them for some of it.

Because the days are long but the years are short.

And because they need it as much as me.

All of it.

How do you feel about screen time?

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a SAHM? Have you been mom-shamed? Want to see the face of a Mom who just wanted a family dinner? (I’m sure you can relate) Can your kids be totally ridiculous sometimes, too?

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I’m a Stay at Home Mom and I love it. And I mean love it.

I didn’t expect to.

I had no clue I’d love being home all day with my little ones. But I really, really do.

Motherhood as a whole is so many things. It’s beautiful and impossible and perfect and overwhelming and hilarious and never-ending. It’s glorious and insane all at once. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and yet way more than you can handle.

Honestly, Motherhood is a way of life.

And being a Stay at Home Mom?

I think it’s the best job in the whole world. Now that I know what it’s like to be present for all the daily moments with my children, I couldn’t not be there for them. I would sell everything I own to keep this job. It’s not for everyone. And that’s okay. It’s more than okay. But, it’s totally for me.

Yes, your days can sometimes feel like you’re the star of Groundhog Day. It can feel monotonous. Sometimes you feel like you’re on a hamster wheel you can’t seem to get off of but then when you finally you do get off it, you miss it.

It’s a special and unique thing to be a Stay at Home Mom. There’s much more to it than meets the eye. And ear.

Because at the end of the day—

It looks like healthy and happy kids and a still-standing house.

It sounds like “It was good, how was yours?” when your spouse asks how your day was.

But oh, there’s so much more.

A fellow Mama recently asked me, “Do you work inside or outside of the home?” BOOM. That Mama gets it. She didn’t ask me if I stayed at home. She asked me if I worked at home. I hugged her. And I almost kissed her.

I’ll yell it from the rooftops and I bet every Mother out there will yell back in agreement with me—raising & caring for children is a full-time job.

And this isn’t a debate about Stay at Home Moms or Career Moms (both are rockstars).

This is about the sheer amount of love, energy, work and patience it takes to raise children. The fact is, whether you’re staying at home and taking care of your children or you’re going to work and they’re in school or daycare, someone is taking care of them. All day long. So, I’ll say it again—it’s a full-time job.

With overtime.

Hours. Not pay.

And despite the insane amount of energy & effort it takes to keep these little human beings happy, healthy, thriving & growing, a funny thing happens when someone asks us this one simple question:

“What’d you do today?”

Huh.

That’s like the most loaded question ever.

You don’t know what to say.

But why? Why don’t you know what to say?

Why is it hard for a Stay at Home Mom to answer that?

I’ll tell you why.

You don’t even know where to possibly begin.

Because when you’re a Stay at Home Mom, there is a strange dichotomy of feeling like you have gotten nothing done while simultaneously feeling like you are doing everything.

And you’re right. On both accounts. Because while you are checking very few things off your “to do” list, you’re also keeping actual human beings alive and all the wheels in motion for whatever they need to be in motion for. So the truth is, you’re getting everything done while somehow also getting nothing done. And that’s an odd thing to come to terms with.

“What’d you do today?”

You want to say “Everything.” You want to recount every moment & detail of work you did the entire day just to prove (mostly to yourself) how much you accomplished, but you’re way too exhausted to do that (from all that hard work, duh). You want to share every magically sweet moment and milestone, no matter how big or tiny, but there were a million and you don’t even know where to begin. And you want to say you basically achieved the impossible in taking care of all the people and all the things.

Or maybe you want to say “Nothing.” Because all you managed to do that day was reheat your coffee 11 times and hold your fussy baby, maybe it feels like you did nothing. Maybe because you let the kids watch movies all day so you could pay some bills and clean the house you feel like you weren’t on your Mom “A” game that day. Maybe because you didn’t do anything measurable it feels like you didn’t do anything important.

So 99% of the time a Stay at Home Mom’s answer to “What’d you do today?” sounds something like this:

“I took care of some things.”

Or my go-to: “I TCB’d.” [Took Care of Business]

And God forbid, sometimes you might even answer: “Not much.”

BUT THAT IS A LIE.

Because that’s not the full story. That’s not even like the Epilogue of the story. That’s more like one sentence in a 37,682 page book.

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Well guess what?

You can’t judge a Stay at Home Mom’s day by it’s cover either.

Because what it looks like and what it sounds like don’t give even close to the full story. And honestly, unless you’re living it, even hearing all the details of the day is still just the Cliff Notes version.

It looks like children who are okay and a home that is miraculously in one piece.

It sounds like “I ran some errands & got some things done I’ve been trying to do.”

But here’s what a Stay at Home Mom’s day—and life—really is:

It’s waking up as your Supermom alter ego and turning that fierce & loving Mama spirit all the way up when you hear that first peep from your child. No matter the time.

It’s protecting little humans that realistically spend a good portion of every day actively testing the boundaries of life and death and doing 117 things an hour that are guaranteed to end in a booboo.

And then it’s kissing and “fixing” those booboos that you saw coming 20 miles away.

It’s keeping little (and big) tummies fed and full and happy.

It’s trying your damndest to sort out fads from real nutrition and buy the healthiest stuff possible for your kids. Feeding them and feeding you probably looks totally different. I’ll snack on Combos from the gas station any day of the week, but you better believe my kids are eating Annie’s snacks because I feel like those are healthier and if you mom-shame me or tell me they aren’t I’m going to cry right here right now because I’ve been buying that stuff for 6 years.

It’s being “on call” all day, every day, for the rest of your life. Just like physicians get calls around the clock from their patients when they’re on call, the same goes for Mamas. Our children can (and will) call on us anytime of day or night and we will answer and be there for them. (BTW, my husband is a surgeon and in 6 years of Motherhood I’ve totally gotten more middle-of-the-night calls than he has.)

It’s laundry.

And the irony of this never-ending pile of laundry is that your own clothes make up the smallest portion of it. Your spouse & kids are the real culprits. Probably because you wear the same thing most days. (Just me? Cool.)

It’s also knowing which clothes need to be hung & which ones can go straight in the dryer & which ones have stains you’re working on. I bet no one else in your house knows how to sort it correctly. I’m not Type A, you are. (Actually I’m not Type A anymore—that is one thing Motherhood has definitely changed about me—but that is for another post.)

It’s tickle fights and sword fights and playing chase and hide-and-seek and building towers and acting out stories and drawing masterpieces. It’s whatever those tiny minds and bodies need.

It’s keeping up with everything in the history of the world. Dates for kid stuff, dates for adult stuff, dates for family stuff, and dates for stuff that has nothing to do with you but everybody still gives to you to keep up with. Moms are like universal human calendars that update constantly and sync to everyone else.

It’s getting to be there for all the moments. When someone says, “I wish I was there for that” you smile because you were there for it. And that feels amazing.

It’s being a referee in the background of every single activity every single day if you have more than one child.

It’s keeping tabs on what food you’re out of, what food you’re almost out of, and what food is about to go bad so you need to eat it first.

It’s braving the grocery store. And then putting all those groceries away. And doing the stuff Moms know to do, like washing the fruit.

It’s listening—to the chaos and the silence. Because seasoned Mamas know that silence is not always golden and sometimes chaos is the sweetest sound.

It’s changing out the coffee pot carbon filters that no one else even knows exist. (I love coffee, obvi.)

It’s making your children feel like they are the most important and special thing in the world as often as possible. Because they are, no question, but making them feel that way is the important part.

It’s remembering the dog’s birthday & being a Dog Mom, too.

It’s potty-training.

It’s some of your biggest fails and biggest successes in succession day after day…after day after day.

It’s answering questions from the mind of an inquisitive child every other second. The most popular question is “Why?” followed closely by “But why?”

It’s not losing your patience when you can’t seem to put the “Why?” question fire out.

It’s sensing when Grandma would benefit from a loved up FaceTime call with the kids.

It’s balancing outdoor fresh air time and indoor cozy time.

It’s weighing the guilt and sanity that comes with too much screentime.

It’s knowing what time you need to do every single thing to make it in time for nap and bed time.

It’s getting to be the recipient of the best love in the world because you’re the one with them. This is my favorite part of being a SAHM.

It’s noticing your child’s nails are too long and sharp and trimming them.

And it’s knowing when you need to Q-tip those tiny ears of theirs. (I know some people don’t believe in Q-tips because wax can be protective, but I am not one of those people. RIP wax.)

It’s knowing when the sheets need to be changed. Not just on your own bed, but on the kids’ beds.

It’s not getting to take a sick day when you’re, well, sick…and it’s taking care of everyone else on theirs.

It’s appreciating the perfect imperfectness of it all.

And it’s being okay with messy and real—in your life and in your home. And perhaps even embracing it—right down to your child’s sticky handprints.

It’s soothing little souls throughout the day when this great big world is just a bit too much for them.

It’s paying attention to which toys your children still play with and which ones they haven’t touched in months.

Then it’s stealthily getting those toys out of the house and to Goodwill without your kids noticing because it’s 100% guaranteed that if they see that toy in your hand they will desperately have to keep it even though it’s been sitting in front of them every day for ages & they haven’t touched it once.

It’s understanding when your babies need discipline and when they need a little extra love.

It’s loading & unloading the dishwasher continuously. Forever and ever. The End.

It’s knowing the bottle and sippy cup parts need to dry fully before putting them back together.

It’s somehow magically understanding that adorable toddler talk when it seems no one else in the world can.

It’s noticing when they’ve outgrown something and mentally noting when they’ve almost outgrown something.

It’s making your child feel like they have your complete, undivided attention when your mind is in a million different directions. You feel that scattered mind of yours but you try your hardest to make sure they don’t.

It’s never truly having a day or night off. Because let’s be honest, even if you are away from your children, they’re always still on your mind. Someone should warn us that once you become a parent you have your own personal cloud flurry of worry (cue Olaf) for your precious babies at all times.

It’s juggling the absolute sweetest moments of your life with some of the toughest ones.

It’s knowing that the “days are long but the years are short” are the truest words ever spoken. And embracing that.

It’s being a teacher who is expected to be an expert in every subject under the sun from Language to Math to History to Humanity to Etiquette to PE to Reading to Home Ec. to Arts & Crafts.

And let’s not forget you’re also the cafeteria lady.

Oh. And the cook, too.

It’s a cycle of laughs and hugs and tantrums and kisses and pouts and holding your ground and raising the white flag that repeats all day long.

It’s the love. Oh, it’s the love.

Being a Stay at Home Mom is literally being everything and everyone to everything and everyone.

It’s being all-knowing. And all-doing. It’s basically being a Superhero.

But let’s be real—that’s a lot to tell someone in response to a 4 word question. So you don’t. But maybe sometimes it’s okay if you do. Maybe sometimes it’s okay to talk about all the Stay at Home Mom badassery you’re doing.

I didn’t know I’d want to be a SAHM. I didn’t know I’d love being a SAHM. But now I know how lucky I am to be a Stay at Home Mom.

And other Moms feel the same way.

I wouldn’t trade my Stay at Home Mom status or super powers for anything in the world…even though it can be completely exhausting.

But you know what?

I’m sure even Wonder Woman would be beat after a day as a Stay at Home Mom.

And I know Superman would.

Are you a Stay at Home Mom? Or have you been a SAHM? What do you think?

Want more on Motherhood? —>  Do you have Mom Burnout? Worried about your child choking? (mine did) Are you a BOYMOM? Curious about period underwear? (I tried it…MAGIC)

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Long before my children made me a Mother, I was a Dog Mom.

It was a 13 year love story. His name was Hershey Bear.

It’s true what they say about never getting over your first love. Mine was a dog, and yes, he made me a Mom.

I had more loves-of-my-life make their way into the picture over those 13 years, including my husband and my children. But nothing and no one changed my love for Hershey.

13 years is a long time. But it wasn’t anywhere near long enough.

I miss him something fierce.

We were partners in all of what life threw at us. The joys, the heartbreaks, the new loves & additions, the losses, the sicknesses, the happiest moments—all of it. We shared knowing looks & side-eye glances. We walked together when one of us wanted to walk; we ran when one of us wanted to run. And when he became weak & needed to be carried, my love for him helped me become superhuman & lift my 100lb “little” boy up. He would’ve done the same.

I was a Dog Mom. He was my Boy. And I was his Mom.

The really unique thing about a dog (and maybe any super special pet), is that they can be the love of your life, your baby, and your best friend all rolled into one.

That was Hershey.

I was Dog’s Best Friend. He was Girl’s Best Friend. I was Dog Mom. He was my little (big) boy.

I was his. And he was mine.

If you’ve been a Dog Mom then you know how real that love is.

I’m a “real” Mom now. I have a son and a daughter. Yes, it’s different than being a Fur Mama.

Of course it is. Of course being a Mom to my children is different than being a Dog Mom. But, in so many ways, it’s the same.

Hershey was my child. He was Man of Honor at my wedding. He walked down the aisle. I tucked him in every single night for 13 years unless I was out of town. I loved him goodbye every time I left the house. If I forgot I’d literally reverse back down the street to run in & tell him bye.

My family and friends have always laughed about how crazy much I loved him. My husband often joked he didn’t know who I loved more. (He might’ve been only halfway joking. 🤨)

Hershey was with me every single step of the way for 13 years. My love for him was so real and consuming.

As silly as it sounds, one of my worries about having children was that I would have less time with him. Less time to spend with him, and less time to spend on him.

He was right there with me when I went from being a Dog Mom to a Mom Mom.

He was gentle & patient with my first-born. My new little boy. He was easy & kind with my tiny baby despite being a behemoth of a dog. He never acted threatened, and if he acted anything less than perfect, I’d say “Hersheyyy” in that tone Moms have…& he’d listen. (Now that I have a 3 & 5 year old, I can confidently say I think dogs are better listeners.)

Two years later came my daughter. Shortly after she was born, we found lymphoma in Hershey. We fought for him—with him—and he fought, too. Hard. I’d take him to Firehouse Subs after chemo treatments. I made him a room in the garage when he was too weak to go up & down the stairs. I even put our extra baby monitor down there so I could monitor him at night. The monitor would scan both of my kids’ rooms & then Hershey’s room.

See? Dog Mom.

At night after we put our kids down, I’d lie down there with him. It would feel so good just to pet & hold him in the quiet without the chaos of family life with 2 toddlers. To remind him that I was still there & it was still us. While my little babies were safely tucked in their beds, my big baby was safely tucked in my arms. His Mama’s arms. ❤️🐾

As his health got worse, I’d retreat down there & stay longer. Sometimes I’d talk to him about life & my new babies & Motherhood. Other times I’d just snuggle him in silence. I told myself I was doing it for him, but the truth is it was probably just as much for me. He’d been the constant in my life well before I ever started a family of my own, and I think being with him was comforting & reassuring for me, too.

It’s not fair that our dogs don’t get to stay here as long as us. They are nothing but love and they deserve longer.

And it’s not fair that we don’t get to be Dog Moms longer. It’s a beautiful bond that could last a lifetime if given the chance.

I say all the time how I’d freeze my children forever right now if I could. They love me so much at this point in their little lives. I’m their whole world. Time goes too fast. I do think the days are long but the years are short. I wish I could stop time.

I also felt that way with Hershey, but for different reasons.

It hurt me to see him changing & aging right in front of me. I wanted time to stop. I wanted to have longer with him.

It was difficult watching him get older, wondering if he was okay, if he ached, if I was doing everything right, and if he felt loved enough. He was down a spleen & battling lymphoma like a soldier. He had terrible arthritis because of those long legs of his. And he had severe hip dysplasia.

It was hard to see him hurt.

As he got older, he struggled. Physically he became weaker, but his spirit only grew stronger.

Just like I kind of love the sticky little child handprints my kids leave all over the house, I loved Hershey’s paw prints. When I’d come home & see his wet or dirty paw prints on the floor, I’d be so touched. Because I knew the effort it took to get those prints there. The amount of will & strength it took my 100lb boy to get up & walk outside for a brief minute of fresh air before retreating back to his bed.

Years back I’d started taking him to therapeutic swimming to give his joints some relief. For over a decade, I’d saved my money to pay his vet bills, for all his bloodwork & medicine, to get him the right kind of food for his joints, and for the clencher—chemo. When I sold my Wrangler before having kids so I could get something safer, I was looking for two things—a comfortable, safe car for kids and a cargo area big enough for Hershey. (Oh, and heated seats, obvi.)

You know who does stuff like that? A Dog Mom.

I was fortunate enough to be able to do all that for him. I know that’s not always possible. I’m extremely grateful to have had such a loving husband who never questioned any decision I made regarding my first little boy. He never made me feel like Hershey was “just a dog.”

Because our dogs aren’t “just dogs.” And we aren’t “just owners.”

My dog is the one who made me a Mama all those years ago. He will always be the one who made me a Mama. A Fur Mama.

Nothing—no amount of time or space or human kids—can change that.

Once a Mom, always a Mom. Even a Dog Mom.

Make no mistake about that.

Are you a Dog Mom? Were you a Fur Mama first?

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This is my husband. He’s a surgeon. He constantly wears a mask for work. And has for 15+ years.

Why does he wear it? To protect his patients. To protect their opened up organs & wounds from droplets, coughs, sneezes, and general contamination.

In fact, every single person in the OR wears one for the very same reason. For us—the patients.

And if he’s operating on you, I’d be willing to bet you want him wearing that mask. You wouldn’t want him to cough into your body & cause an infection. Would you?

He wears masks for 12+ hours straight some days, only taking one off to put on another.

Before you say it, yes—the mask is also to protect him from any body fluids getting into his orifices. When he’s actively operating he wears goggles, too. And as his wife, you bet I want him to. Of course I want him to protect himself as much as possible.

He is just one of millions of people who wear masks for their job every single day.

Nurses, techs, construction workers, dentists, nail techs, hygienists, lawn care workers, janitors, painters, food servers, carpenters, exterminators, lab staff…to name a few. I’m sure I forgot many.

All those people aren’t wearing masks for no reason. They’re wearing them because masks offer some form of protection from whatever it is they may be doing—or whoever it is they may be seeing.

So when we rebuff masks as not effective, think about sitting in the dentist chair & having them breathe all over you.

When we argue that masks don’t protect the other person, think about having your body splayed open & your surgeon asking for an instrument & speech droplets falling right over that cut.

When we counter that masks don’t protect us, think of the person removing the asbestos or black mold from your house. Heck, even the painter wearing a mask to help shield the fumes.

And when we complain that we can’t breathe after wearing a mask for 2 minutes, think of the person in the blazing sun all day doing manual labor while wearing a mask.

And if it’s too hard to generalize things and you need a face to think of—you can think of my husband. That’s his daily masked-up face up there.

He’s not some kind of martyr for wearing a mask. He’s just doing exactly what he should. Just like all those others.

And the stance that wearing a mask increases CO2 intake to dangerous levels? Well 1st) that’s wildly inaccurate and 2nd) even if that were true (it’s not), maybe ask why it’s okay to let people in all these professions wear masks for hours daily? For years. Since people are suddenly so impassioned about it now, where has this mask activism been for others all these years?

Basically, we just need to think of others. That’s really what this all boils down to.

I mean, I’m thinking of myself, too—don’t get me wrong. And when I put masks on my kids I’m thinking about protecting them.

But for those people who don’t think masks provide any protection during this pandemic & don’t want to wear a mask to protect themselves, don’t. Wear it to protect the others.

We should think of the ones who have always worn a mask for us. And the ones who are putting on a mask now for the first time in their lives.

For us & for themselves.

And for the record, I do believe that wearing a mask during this pandemic helps protect everyone & curb the spread of Covid. But, I realize I’m not a physician or a scientist. I’m not aggregating and analyzing the data as it comes in. Are you?

So instead I base my decision to wear a mask on the fact that if there is even the teeniest, tiniest possibility that wearing a mask helps limit the spread of Covid and protect ourselves and others, that’s enough for me.

Because if those of us wearing masks are wrong, what’s the worst that happened? We wore a piece of fabric on our face for a few months?

But if those of us not wearing masks are wrong, what’s the worst that happened? We spread this virus & contributed to exponential infections?

I’ll take the fabric over the guilt.

No I don’t normally write about stuff like this, but nothing about any of this is normal. Now back to regular programming…

I usually talk about Motherhood —> Are you a SAHM? Have you yelled at your kids? (I did & what happened after shocked me) Are you a Mom raising a black son?

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Mamas, I know you’re tired of hearing “The days are long but the years are short” from everyone you encounter.

And their Mamas.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard another Mama say “If another person tells me ‘the days are long but the years are short’ I’m gonna…”

And I get it.

Kind of.

But not really.

I mean, I know that you’re tired of hearing it, but I don’t really know why.

Maybe because You. Are. Trying.

Trying so hard to keep it all together & make everything happen that needs to happen while still relishing all the MOMents & giving your children Quality Time (the real QT where you’re present with them & not in the background doing all the things for all the people all the time).

But Mamas, hear me out, because here’s the thing:

“The days are long but the years are short” is not meant to pressure you.

I repeat: It’s not meant to pressure you.

Those other Mamas who have some years on us tell us that “the days are long but the years are short” on repeat for one reason: BECAUSE. IT’S. TRUE.

They’ve lived what we’re currently living. They’ve been in our shoes. Actually, we’re in their shoes and not the other way around.

They’ve walked this walk. They were here first. They know how quickly it goes.

They’ve walked the walk. So they are allowed to talk the talk.

They know that the days can be some of the longest of your life. And hardest. And defeating.

But they also know that you’ll look back on these days and lust for them.

I know what you’re thinking. That you won’t lust for the meltdowns. You won’t miss the tantrums. You won’t yearn for the exasperated feeling you sometimes have now.

Ne neither.

Of course you don’t have to enjoy every second of Motherhood. That’s not what they’re saying. They’re simply saying that it goes fast and you’ll miss it. Yes, even some of the things you don’t think you’ll miss.

When another Mother tells you “The days are long but the years are short,” she’s saying it out of empathy. She’s not telling you to enjoy every minute. She’s simply telling you to enjoy it. That’s a big difference.

Those Mamas know.

They know the years fly by at light speed and one day you’ll find yourself practically begging your kids to need you like they once did. Or even just talk to you. Hell, even just hug you.

They know how quickly you will go from being your kid’s entire world to just a piece of it. Hopefully like a continent-sized piece. But sometimes you might end up being more like a country. Or a state. Or, gulp, a city.

And they know how much they wish they had sometimes just set the cleaning aside or microwaved Mac & Chz instead of really cooking (lbh, me most days anyway 🙋🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️) or not done the laundry or unloaded the dishwasher that very second AND JUST SAT DOWN with their kids.

Just sitting down with your kids is underrated. Or just playing with them. You should try it sometime. And so should I.

The days are long—so long—because we spend our days doing everything we possibly can to take care of our kids (hellooo mom burnout). But the irony of that is that even though we spend all our time on them, it means we often spend less time with them.

But I hear you. Sometimes we can’t just sit down. Sometimes we really do have to do stuff right then. That’s real life. And you’re right.

But sometimes we can. Yes it might add on 30 minutes at the end of the day when we’re already barely functioning, but sometimes it’s worth that. Sometimes 30 minutes of snuggling with your children is worth 30 minutes of folding the laundry after bedtime. Or 30 less minutes with your husband. Or 30 less minutes to yourself. And some days it’s not worth it, and you know what? That’s okay. It’s more than okay. But maybe some days it’s so worth it.

“The days are long and the years are short” is one of the most accurate things I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

Hammer. Nail. Head. (…you get my point.)

So I honestly don’t know why so many of us Mamas get bothered when people say that to us…and even resent it. They’re not mom-shaming us. They’re not patronizing us (unless her name is Becky or Janet and then chances are she might be because those 2 seem to be the ubiquitous Meme Mean Moms. Sigh, poor nice Beckies & Janets.).

Those other Mamas aren’t judging you. They’re simply telling us what they wish someone had told them. Or maybe what someone did tell them…but they didn’t listen. (Hello, us.)

And they wish they had. They wish they had listened.

I don’t get annoyed when another Mama tells me “the days are long and the years are short.” Or when I read it on a quote making its way all over the internet. Instead, I feel a little solidarity like—“Hell yeah, she gets it.”

Fist bumps all around. Or high-fives. Or hugs. (Depending on my mood and current emotional state, ha.)

I actually even appreciate when someone says it to me because it makes me pause—even if just for a second—and can shift my entire perspective.

It slows me down. I need that. You wouldn’t think a Mother needs little reminders to stop & just be with her own children sometimes. But I’ll be the first to admit that I do.

When someone does say the whole “The days are long but the years are short” thing we shouldn’t feel defensive. It’s not supposed to put pressure on us. Just the opposite actually.

It’s basically saying—Enjoy your kids. Give yourself a break & sit down for a minute & do nothing with your kids—for them AND FOR YOU.

Oh, and it’s also saying that the laundry & dust & dishes & bills will always be there…but your kids won’t.

I saw a quote somewhere that said we only get “18 delicious summers with our children” at home. That’s so not a lot.

Or that we only have a baby for a year, a toddler for 2 years, a kid for a few years, a teen…you get the point.

Those things stopped me in me tracks. But they didn’t make me feel pressured or attacked. They made me feel grateful for the reminders.

A lot of my fellow Mamas don’t agree with me about that. A bunch of you feel really offended or pressured when someone says something like that.

But noting that we have “18 delicious summers” with our kids at home isn’t intended to make us feel pressured to make every single moment of summer perfect. (And if we’re being honest, some of the best summer days are watching TV in pajamas all day because it’s just too hot outside. And I bet our kids think days like that are pretty damn perfect.)

I’m only 5.5 years into Motherhood and it’s already going too fast for me.

Is it so hard some days (ahem, every day)? YES.

And is it my favorite thing in the history of the world? ALSO YES.

“The days are too long and the years are too short” is maybe even more fitting. Because at the end of the day I’m beat to total Mombie Status & yet I already want more time with them.

It’s like that crazy thing about Motherhood where you can’t wait to put them to bed and as soon as you do…you miss them.

That’s insane, I know.

But Motherhood is a little insane. In the most beautiful way.

When a Mother tells you “The days are long and the years are short” try to hear her words.

And not get defensive or go on the offensive.

Because she’s not trying to pressure you. But she’s also not lying about the fact that your child won’t want you to hold them to sleep in a few years. It’s hard to imagine that because right now it’s almost Mission:Impossible to put your kids to bed in under an hour. But they know one day “Mama, I’m thirsty. Mommy, I need to go potty. Mama can we read another book? Will you hold me, Mommy? Mama, is a T-Rex bigger than a blue whale? But WHY? …..Mama, will you stay a little longer?” will morph into a simple “Good night, Mom.” (*I’m not crying you’re crying.)

*Okay, I’m full-on sobbing.

And if we’re lucky we’ll get an “I love you.”

As I laid in bed with my son for the longest bedtime ever the other night, I wished so much for him to hurry up and fall asleep so I could leave. As I thought about how I’d been in there forever and wanted to go do some of my own stuff he piped up, “Mama?” I pretended to be asleep. So he said it 2 more times. I finally answered “Yeah honey?”

He said “I’m SO happy. I’m just so happy because I love you.” Followed by the sweetest squeeze.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

For 25 minutes I’d been lying there thinking about how I wanted to escape to my room and about all the things I wanted to get done the next day, and he’d been lying there thinking about how happy he was that I was holding him and how much he loved me.

It wasn’t even like a shot of perspective. It was like a full-on IV drip straight to my veins.

They’ll tell you the days are long but the years are short. They’ll say that because it’s true. And you might feel affronted. But you shouldn’t.

You should take it with a heaping cup of salt. Because they’re right. And what they’re saying matters.

It’s basically advice from your future self. And your future self is right.

So soak it in.

Their words. Your children. Motherhood. All of it.

Because the days are long but the years are short.

That’s right. I said it.

Because I believe it. Boom. 💥

Does it bother you when someone tells you “The days are long but the years are short” or does it give you a little perspective?

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Dear Moms Raising Black Sons,

I’m a white mom raising a white son. I worry about him constantly. Because that’s what Moms do. I think about his safety, his health, and his happiness on repeat all day every day. Just like you.

All Moms worry. Well, good ones anyways. It’s one of the things no one really tells you about Motherhood: how much you’ll worry.

(Spoiler alert: A LOT.)

My son is young, so my worries for him now are about whether I make him feel loved enough, keeping him healthy, raising him to be kind & confident, and keeping him safe. The same worries every Mother has for her child.

As he gets older, I’ll worry about my son falling in with the wrong group of friends. Or getting made fun of or bullied. Or trying something he shouldn’t. I’ll worry about him being careless with his life.

In those ways, as Mothers, all our worries are the same.

But in other ways, they couldn’t be more different.

My worries for my white son will be the same as some of your worries for your black son.

But where my worries end, a terrifying set of worries begins for Moms raising black sons.

Worries I can’t imagine. Because I won’t have to.

Worries you shouldn’t have to imagine. But you can imagine them simply because you can’t afford not to when your son’s life is at stake.

When my son is 12 or 13 and leaves to go ride bikes with his friends, I’ll say, “Be careful.” And I’ll mean it. I’ll tell him that because cars might be going too fast and not paying attention. Or because if he falls he might hit his head. Or maybe because it will be getting dark out soon.

I’ll be thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Anticipating them before they happen.

I’ll be being a Mom.

What I won’t be doing is worrying about someone being suspicious of my son riding his bike just because he’s a white boy. I won’t worry about some resident calling the cops because they think he’s up to no good—for absolutely no reason. I won’t worry about my son getting followed by the police because a white kid stole a candy bar from a gas station & he “fits the description” just by being a white male.

But you will.

You’re a mom raising a black son, so you will be worrying about every single one of those things.

Because you know stuff like that happens. You know it happens because you’ve seen it happen. You’ve felt it happen. You’ve had it happen. To you. Or to yours.

I haven’t.

When my son is 17 and goes to a party, I will be a mess. Worried sick. Worried that he will get in the car with someone who has been drinking. Or that he’ll be hit by a drunk driver. That he will try drugs. Worried that he will be in a freak accident.

I will warn him to be smart and not drink or try anything. I will warn him not to get in the car with anyone. I’ll warn him to drive carefully because there may be drunk drivers on the road. I’ll warn him that he could be pulled over. And I will warn him that the cops could come and if he gets in trouble it could stay on his record.

I’ll be worried about all those things. I’ll be worried about my son.

It’s almost too much worry to bear. And yet we have to, because that is the nature of this thing called life. And it’s definitely the nature of this thing called Motherhood.

You’ll be worried, too. About all those things. You’ll be worried about your son, just like I’ll be worried about mine.

But you’ll also be worried about other things. Things that only Moms raising black sons have to worry about.

While I’m worrying about my son getting pulled over when a cop is suspicious he has been drinking, you’ll be worrying about your son getting murdered when they ask him to step out of the car. Which sounds—and is—completely outlandish, but it happens. While I’m worrying about the party getting busted and my son getting in trouble for being there, you’ll be worrying about your son getting killed during the bust because of what he looks like. When my son gets caught doing something he shouldn’t & takes off running, I’ll be torn up about him doing something that could’ve hurt him & I’ll be worried about him getting in trouble. You’ll be torn up, too, but you’ll be worried about your son running & getting shot in the back.

Many of my worries for my white son are the same as my fellow mama’s worries for her black son. We’re both Mothers, after all. And with Motherhood comes some of the most beautiful, strong solidarity you can imagine.

But I also realize my worries for my white son are a fraction of a mama’s worries for her black son.

A Mom raising a black son carries double the load of worry & fear for her son than I have to carry for mine.

Things I will never have to think twice about with regards to my own boy will be the very things she can never stop thinking about.

I can barely handle my own worries for my children. I’m not sure I could stomach even one extra worry, much less a whole other set.

But you do that daily. For no other reason than because your son has darker skin than my son.

That’s it. Just color. It’s nothing.

It’s nothing and yet it’s everything.

How can something that’s such a nothing change everything?

Because we have let it.

Dear Moms raising Black Sons,

I see you. I’m with you. But I know I’m not you.

And because of the extra worries and fear for your child that you have to live with daily, I wouldn’t want to be.

And that tells me everything I could ever need to know about racial injustice.

Want more on Motherhood? —> You know all about that #BOYMOM life, don’t ya? Are you a SAHM? Did you have an Unloving Mother? Have you ever yelled at your kids?

Like this post? Join MAMA’s email list to get more like this. All things MOMish—the MOMents + MOMfessions, & all the Mama Must-Haves!

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Heads up: Check on your Mom friends with young kids, because THEIR quarantine life is hard, too. It may look like rainbows & cookies. But in between the magic, it’s hard. And maybe in a different way than yours.

I bet you can tell where I am in the picture above.

Yes, I’m in the bathroom.

And yes, I’m sitting on the toilet.

And if you’re a Mom with young kids, I bet you can tell me why I’m sitting there.

Because being a Mom with young kids is hard.

It’s totally & completely unrelenting. And sometimes escaping to the bathroom is the only way you can get a 2 minute break. And even then, it’s about 50/50 they’ll find you before you can take a breath.

(Breaking News: Dads aren’t the only ones who hide out in the bathroom. Mamas do it, too. Especially Moms with young kids.)

I recently realized that I’ve been doing myself a disservice. And I’d be willing to bet that you probably have, too. Especially if you’re a Mom who is quarantining with young kids.

I’m a Stay at Home Mom with 2 little kids. I’ve already talked about how surprised I was that being quarantined with young kids feels so much harder than just being home with young kids….home like I always am since I’m a SAHM.

For weeks, I’ve been feeling grateful & lucky that my kids are young so the pressures of school & curriculums & schedules & assignments don’t apply to them…which means they don’t apply to me, either. And I really am thankful for that. Because I can barely handle what’s already on my plate; I sure as heck don’t need another helping.

But here I’ve been thinking Moms with young kids have it so much easier than Mamas with kids who are older and thus are having to fill that school/teacher gap.

And in some ways, I think that still holds true.

But here’s what I didn’t realize at first: Social distancing with little kids is just as difficult—in a different, completely unrelenting way.

It took me about 5 weeks of being quarantined with my 2 young kids for that to hit me. But when it did, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’d a thousand times rather play superheroes or baby dolls or make chalk masterpieces with my kids than teach them calculus right now. No contest.

BUT there’s another element to this I’ve discounted and now I want to shout it from the rooftops for all of you Mamas with young children who are hanging on by the world’s thinnest thread some days like me:

Being a Mom with young kids right now IS extremely tough, just in very different ways than being a Mom with older children is right now (which is also extremely tough).

Newsflash: It’s not a contest. If it were, we’d all win.

So why is being a Mom with young kids so hard right now?

Because young children are completely, totally dependent on us. For food, for going to the bathroom, for getting dressed, for working through meltdowns over even the most minor of frustrations like trying to draw a T-Rex correctly. Or in my 3 year old daughter’s case, her epic meltdown because she “kept drawing her circles upside down.” And you can’t really reason with a 3 year old. When I explained that circles couldn’t be upside down because they were the same on all sides no matter how you drew them…well, let’s just say that did not help. Far from it, actually.

Young kids are bursting with energy. They want to play. Rough house. Tickle. Roll around. And just physically play. Sure they love vegging out in front of the TV, too. But then they want to DO SOMETHING.

They want to move and play. And not like dainty play. Like real play. Play play.

Their energy level is major, and the energy they require from us is major, too.

And young kids are demanding, whether they mean to be or not. Because even the most independent young child still needs us for stuff. To get something out of the panty or fridge. Or to go to the bathroom. To help pour their drink. To find something they can’t. And to fix…well, everything. Moms fix everything from booboos to block towers and a million things in between. Including broken little hearts over real stuff like missing their grandparents or friends. And over absurd stuff like the aforementioned T-Rex and circle fiascos.

The bottom line for Moms with young kids is this: they need us.

All day. Every day.

And that honestly is a lot different from older children.

Older kids who you can send to their room for hours when you just can’t Mom anymore. Older kids who want to be in their room by themselves anyway. (I am so not ready for those days. Not sure my Mama heart can take that.) Older kids who can fix themselves something to eat when they’re hungry. Or go to the bathroom by themselves.

Motherhood is hard. Whether your kids are 5 or 35, it’s hard. That part never changes. (just ask your own Mom)

What changes are the ways in which it’s hard. Moms with young kids have a different hard than Moms with older kids.

We don’t have to worry about our little kids falling in with the wrong group of friends or being exposed to something or someone dangerous online. We don’t have to make sure they don’t fall behind in school during this unprecedented closure of schools nationwide. And we don’t have to deal with teen attitudes and backtalk.

While Moms with older kids are doing all that, we’ll be playing with our tiny bosses.

Trying to come up with new things to do with them when there is literally nowhere to go & nothing new to do. We’ll be trying to help them cope with emotions much bigger than they are. We’ll be helping them go to the bathroom, all day every day. And we’ll be trying to find the time to go to the bathroom ourselves. And then when we do find a minute to pee in solitude because we go to the bathroom with a baby gate up so no one can follow us in there, we’ll be trying to drown out  “Mama Mama Mamaaaaaa” for those precious few seconds. We’ll be dealing with tantrums. Often over the most nonsensical things you can imagine.

We’ll be doing our hard while our fellow Mamas are doing theirs.

I’m not wishing any of it away. I’m fully aware our kids only need us like they do when they’re young for a few fleeting years. And that breaks my heart because I already feel the time slipping away faster than I want it to.

And I know most Mamas with older kids out there right now would switch places with us in a second. They’d jump at the chance to play pretend or make a chalk mosaic with their little kids. Or to have playing in the rain with their kids be the big thing they did that day. This time with our young children really is magical.

So, make no mistake: I wouldn’t trade where I am with my kids right now for anything in the world. I love this age and this stage.

I don’t want to trade it. But I do want to say it. Loudly.

IT. IS. HARD.

(Other Mamas think so, too. Promise.)

So check on your Mom friends with young kids. Because the quarantine life is hard for them, too. And no amount of bubbles & finger paint & bike rides can change that.

I’ve been writing a lot during this quarantine (because holy moly do I need an outlet!), so here are some social-distancing/quarantine-related things that I hope help make your isolation a little easier—or at least make you feel like you’re not alone:

A “Schedule Free” Approach to Social Distancing with Young Kids at Home

Why is Quarantine with Kids so much harder than LIFE with Kids?

Others have worn masks daily for years. Now it’s our turn.

Want more on Motherhood? —> Have you ever yelled at your kids? (like really yelled) Do you agree with me that Sometimes TV is Exactly what Our Kids Need? Or that the days ARE long & the years ARE short?

Like this post? Join MAMA’s email list to get more like this. All things MOMish—the MOMents + MOMfessions, & all the Mama Must-Haves!

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Why is quarantine with kids so hard?

Why does being home with them right now feel…so different?

I keep asking myself this. And here’s the answer.

Because, this isn’t just being home with your kids.

I’m a Stay at Home Mom and I’m always home with my kids. And yet this whole quarantine with kids thing feels completely different than our “normal” lives.

But that’s because nothing about any of this is normal.

Quarantine with kids isn’t just being home with your kids.

It’s being home with your kids with nowhere to go and no one to see and pretty much no one to talk to….except—you guessed it—your kids.

There is no school. No play dates. No playgrounds.

There are no aquariums, museums or jump places.

No restaurants.

There are definitely no date nights.

No babysitters. And for many of us, there’s not even help from Grandmom. Or other extended family members.

There are no errands.

I didn’t even realize how much joy (yes, apparently joy) and fulfillment running errands gave me until there were none to run.

It turns out that I like getting out. I like Target (I mean, obvi). And I even like the grocery store.

Who knew?

Social distancing with kids feels (and is) so much harder because not only do you have no backup or reprieve from Momming, but all of your normal places & activities are totally shut down.

And you’re wondering why quarantining with kids feels so hard?

I sure was. I was beating myself up over the fact that this somehow felt so much harder than my normal #momlife.

Like I said, I’m a SAHM so I was already used to being home with my kids all the time. And on top of that, I’m a total homebody by nature. I mean I loooove being home.

But, my kids and I love to do things together, too. Sure, we play at home all the time. But we also go on adventures together. That’s a big part of our lives. My kids are young (5 & 3), so adventures like going to “the donut factory” are big events for us (one of my mom hacks is calling Krispy Kreme the “donut factory”—try it sometime, they’ll love it).

We often go to different playgrounds to “mix it up.” And we go to the movies. Or we go to Target and hit up the dollar spot. We go to a friend’s house. Or my Mom’s house.

We stay, but we also go.

And now we can’t. That’s a lot different.

And it makes it harder. A lot harder.

It’s okay to admit that things are hard right now. Way harder than normal.

It’s like we’re living in a “Groundhog Day” reboot that we can’t seem to turn off.

And we’re all Bill Murray.

We need to stop asking ourselves why this is so much harder than normal & just own the fact that of course it is.

How could it not be?

What’s going on in our world right now is unprecedented. And all that unknown and fear seeps into every aspect of our lives.

Our only goal through this Covid-19 outbreak and quarantine with kids should be to make it through each day.

Because that’s enough.

More than enough.

I’ve been writing a lot during this quarantine (because holy moly do I need an outlet!), so here are some social-distancing with kids/quarantine-related things that I hope help make your isolation a little easier—or at least make you feel like you’re not alone:

“Schedule Free” Approach to Social Distancing with Kids at Home (we’re bucking the schedules & treating this like an early summer)

Check on the Moms with Young Kids (their quarantine life is hard, too)

Others have worn masks daily for years. Now it’s our turn.

Want more on Motherhood? —> Have you been mom-shamed? Do you agree that sometimes a little screentime is exactly what our kids need? (& we shouldn’t feel bad about that)

Like this post? Join MAMA’s email list to get more like this. All things MOMish—the MOMents + MOMfessions, & all the Mama Must-Haves!

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The mom burnout struggle is real.

Very real.

I’m sure every mama feels totally burnt out at some point. If not today, then yesterday. Or tomorrow. Or heck, every day.

It doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom if you feel like you might have mom burnout. It actually means you’re probably a rockstar mom, and giving way, way too much of yourself.

I’m only 5 years into Motherhood, and I’m not okay with being a burnt out Mama. Charred, I’ll take, but not burned.

I love Motherhood way too much to let it become a negative thing for me. I don’t want to be a super stressed, burnt out, busy mom. What I want is to be a happy mom.

We can either allow mom burnout to be our new normal or we can do something about it.

I’ve found a cure that has saved me from mom burnout. It’s made all the difference for me in my Motherhood and has helped keep me sane, happy & present even when I’m being pulled in a million different directions by a million different things and a million different people. Or by 2 small yet very demanding people. Same same.

Doing this one thing has made me more patient with my children, my husband, bills, life, the dog and more when they’re singing the never-ending “Mom, Mama, MAMAAAAA” song on repeat. Because I really do love that song. It’s actually my favorite one. But when I’ve been jamming to one song on repeat for a bit, at some point I might need to take a breath before blasting it again.

This is the one thing I wish I could tell every Mom—whether she’s a Mom-to-be, a new Mama, or a seasoned Mother—to keep her from feeling that almost inescapable mom burnout.

So what is it? Here goes:

Be selfish with your time.

Did you just roll your eyes because I made it sound like such a big deal and then it was anti-climactic because it sounds so simple? Be honest. I bet you did.

Well guess what? You’re wrong. You’re wrong because it’s a huge freaking deal. Huge. And it’s also super hard to do.

In Motherhood, your time is rarely yours. Actually, I think there’s a universal but not widely recognized time zone called MOMTIME. And all Mamas operate on it.

It’s when your time is not your own. In fact, your time belongs to pretty much everyone else but you.

Think about it. Your time is spent either with, on, or for your children.

You’re either physically taking care of them OR you’re thinking about how to take the best care of them OR you’re actively doing things like grocery shopping & registering for the next school year to…wait for it…take care of them.

And if it’s not them, it’s someone else in your life. Or something else. Honestly, how could you not have mom burnout?

Because it’s your spouse.
It’s your pet.
It’s your job.
It’s your home.
It’s the bills bills bills. (cue Destiny’s Child)
It’s your email inbox.
It’s your to do list.
It’s your to do piles.
It’s your to do rooms. (just me?)
It’s your laundry. (Well it’s really THEIR laundry, but you get my point).

It’s. Your. Life.

And life is beautiful. But life can also be so freaking busy. So busy you feel like you can’t ever sit down. So busy you feel like there’s just “never enough time.” (Be honest, how many times have you thought that? Unless you answered “a million” you might be lying.) And certainly so busy you can never find any “me time.”

And you feel like that because it’s true. Because you don’t. You don’t have enough time. Not now, and if we’re being honest, you probably never will.

And that’s normal. That’s okay. Learn to be okay with it. Don’t think it’s just you. It’s not. Every single person I know feels that way, starting with my own Mama.

Though she never let us—her children—feel it, my mom has had a textbook case of mom burnout probably since she became a Mom. As a child, I had no idea. As a mother, I see it so clearly now.

What happens with us humans is this: we have a million things on our constantly growing to-do list, and every time we might get one done, we think of 3 others to add. Some things are necessary and really do need to get done. Others are things we want to get done, sometimes for no real reason than just because we want to.

Yes we’re busy. Sometimes we do it to ourselves (hello, taking on stuff we don’t have to) and sometimes the universe does it to us (hello, thing called life.)

But either way, we don’t get a gold star for being busy. Busy doesn’t mean successful. Busy doesn’t mean important. Busy doesn’t even always mean productive. Sometimes busy is just…busy. And sometimes busy is just wasting time.

So what if I told you you could have time? Not enough time, but some time. For you. (No I’m not about to pitch you my MLM scheme, so calm down.)

Don’t want mom burnout? Be selfish with your time.

I mean like really selfish with it.

For the little bit that’s yours, hold on to it. Freaking ball that time up and hide it and don’t let anyone get to it. Not even the people you love the most.

You have to be okay with being selfish with it. That can be really hard at first. It might even seem mean. Or just impossible. But if you want it badly enough, you can make it happen.

So how do you protect your time and stop being the busy mom (& start being the happy mom)?

Welcoming to Avoiding Mom Burnout 101: Say No.

People will ask things of you. It might be your kid’s school. It might be your spouse. Or it might be your job.

Say No sometimes.

It might be your neighborhood. Or it might be your family. It might even be your children.

Say No.

When you can, Say No.

Or if you really can’t bring yourself to say “No” then try “Maybe next time.” And then rinse & repeat that until they stop asking. (#sorrynotsorry)

I have two children. A 5 year old and a 3 year old. I’m in the mom burnout trenches, so to speak. And I’m a Stay at Home Mom. My kids are here with me all day. But I don’t want that to feel like a bad thing. Because it’s honestly the most beautiful part of my life. Soon enough, they won’t be here with me during the day. (I know, I know…here comes “The days are long but the years are short” talk. But you know what? It’s true. Don’t hate.)

I’m not ready for that day. I want to enjoy my time with them while their entire world revolves around me. When I’m with them, I try hard to really be with them. To be present. And not distracted by the million things I know I need to get to.

But that got me into a pattern. A remarkably productive but also unhealthy and ultimately unsustainable pattern that helped me “do it all.”

I was trying to be fully present with my kids when they were awake but because I was getting nothing done during the day I was then using every spare second when they were asleep or not at home to do all the things for all the people. So maybe I was “doing it all,” but I was not leaving even a minute to myself.

I think we all could “do it all” if we really wanted to. But at what expense? What would that even prove? Just because we can doesn’t mean we should.

I’d work the whole time my kids napped and then they’d wake up and it’d be right back to momming (my favorite thing, btw….but every Mama needs a break) up until bedtime.

And then after the kids went down one of 3 things would happen:
1. I’d be so tired I would want to go right to sleep, but it would feel so good to sit down that I’d sit on the couch doing nothing for 3 hours and then be so mad at myself I wasted all that time…and didn’t go to sleep
2. I’d spend time with my husband whether it’d be watching The Big Bang or having one
3. I’d keep trying to catch up on everything I hadn’t gotten to, neglecting sleep, down time, my spouse & myself in the process

But whichever one I chose, I was still feeling that mom burnout. There was nothing just for me. No true down time. Not at the beginning, middle or end of the day. Not any day.

I don’t do that anymore. I started protecting my time. It has changed everything for me.

How can you kick mom burnout to the curb? I’ll say it over & over & over. Be selfish with your time. Pick a place to start. And make it yours.

Maybe it’s early in the morning. Maybe it’s your lunch time. Maybe it’s when your kid is at school. Maybe it’s after bedtime.

The first place I started with was my kids’ nap time.

Since I’m a SAHM, I’m at home with them during their naps. And I consider that nap time window absolutely sacred. For them and for me. They don’t just need it, I do. It has become MY time for myself. I do whatever I want to with it. I screen phone calls that I don’t want to take. Or I call the people I want to catch up with. I don’t answer texts. Or sometimes I catch up on 3 weeks worth of texts. I used to pay all the bills or unload the dishwasher and straighten up as soon as I put the kids down for naps. I don’t do that anymore. Unless I feel like it.

I. Do. What. I. Want.

And damn, it feels good to be a gangsta. (Or a Mama looking out for herself. Same same.)

I want to do things in my own life. Exciting things like this blog. Mundane things like cleaning out my own closet and not just everyone else’s. Selfish things like taking care of my skin. Foreign things like sitting down.

I got tired of trying to squeeze my entire adult life into a few minutes every night.

You can’t always save yourself for last, Mama. There might be nothing left.

You’ll feel tired. And beat down. And unfulfilled.

You’ll feel resentful. You’ll feel hardened. And impatient.

You’ll. Feel. That. Mom. Burnout.

And all those feelings will seep into every crack of you. And you will become unrecognizable to yourself some days. You won’t like the kind of mom that impatience & exhaustion make you be.

And you won’t like the kind of mom that mom burnout makes you be.

So change it.

Sometimes the laundry can wait. Sometimes the organizing can wait. And sometimes the grocery store can wait…one more day.

Before you say it—yes, I know, and you’re right. Sometimes it can’t.

But, you don’t have to do every single thing you feel like you need to get done right this second. Just carry those things to the next day. Heck I’ve carried some stuff over to “the next day” for a damn year. No, I don’t like having it hang over me. But I’d rather have the time. It’s a trade off I’ve come to not only tolerate, but appreciate.

Some days I do laundry at the very end of the night and don’t let it cut into my time with my kids. Other days I do laundry throughout the whole day and put on a show (or 10) for my kids because I know I want the time to myself that night. But you know when I never do it anymore? Nap time. That quiet time ain’t got no place for laundry.

Now I’m so protective of my time you’d think it was endangered.

On second thought, it kind of is.

Because most of it really does belong to your children and family. That’s the nature of having a family and being a Mom. But the time you can carve out for you? Let it be yours. Don’t let anyone get their hands on it. Even if they’re the cutest, sweetest & stickiest little child handprints.

Being selfish with my time is my cure for mom burnout.

And I am such a happier Mama for it. A happier person.

I might be behind on a million things but I don’t have mom burnout.

I’ve become so selfish with my time that if someone asks me to do something for them, it’s more of a “I’ll get to it when I get to it” than a “Sure of course let me take care of it right now.”

That is SO different from how I used to be.

Sure I might could get it done today. But I’ve been Momming nonstop and when I put the kids down for a nap I just might not want to. And I’m okay with that. It is an adjustment to be okay with that, but that adjustment feels gooooood. I’ve never been to a chiropractor but maybe that’s what it feels like. So damn good.

Everyone is short on time. That’s why we ask others to help us and do things for us…because by using their time it gives us more time. You have to be okay with not doing stuff for everyone else all the time. Not prioritizing their time over yours. That’s hard. I realize I might sound harsh.

But I’m practicing self-preservation. I’m also saving myself from mom burnout. And you should, too.

It took some growing pains, but I’m good with it now.

You don’t have to do it all. You don’t even have to do more. Just do enough.

How do YOU avoid Mom Burnout? Tell me below.

Want more on Motherhood? —> Have you yelled at your kids? Ever been mom-shamed? Are you a Mom with young kids?

Like this post? Join MAMA’s email list to get more like this. All things MOMish—the MOMents + MOMfessions, & all the Mama Must-Haves!

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The Coronavirus is real and it’s scary. But most importantly, it’s here.

And what about “social distancing?” It matters. We’re taking it seriously. I hope you will, too.

Is social distancing & hunkering down at home extreme? Yes. Is cancelling everything extreme? Yes.

Is extreme what it’s going to take to (hopefully) curb Covid-19? Yes.

Is social distancing with kids tough? Yes…and no.

I’ll admit that at first I thought we’d have play dates with friends who are “being careful like us.” I thought wrong. That’s not enough. It won’t work. It won’t inhibit the spread of this beast of a virus.

Then I thought we’d still go to playgrounds. Wrong again. Did you know this virus can survive for days on plastic & stainless surfaces? Aka slides & monkey bars?

So then what?

Where are we during social distancing?

I’ll tell you where.

We are at home.

We are on the porch.

We are riding scooters on our dead end street.

We are in the patch of grass in front of our house because we don’t have a yard.

We are at the empty beach (we feel very blessed to have this option). And if everyone else suddenly has the same idea and it’s not an empty beach, we will go right back home.

We are snuggled up on the couch binging movies.

Or in my big bed.

We are on a bike ride.

We are on a picnic in the middle of the living room.

We are in a couch fort.

Above all, we are together.

And what are we doing during social distancing?

I’m not a homeschooling Mom. And I’m not a teacher. I’m a regular Mom (but I’d like to think I’m a cool Mom). I know sticking to a set daily schedule is a sanity-saver for many of you Mamas. Especially maybe for all of you who have jobs outside of the most demanding job of all—Motherhood.

I am a SAHM. I am thankful for that more than ever in a time like this. I know how lucky I am not to have to worry about another job right now.

And I know I might be in the minority on this, but we’re not having a schedule. I don’t really want a routine that I have to follow. We stick to a schedule(ish) when things are “normal,” but I’m throwing all that out the window right now because things are definitely not normal. Not for my kids and not for me. We are winging it and just taking each day as it comes.

So, what are we doing during this self-quarantine? I’ll tell you what.

We are doing nothing.

We are watching all our favorite shows & movies. Over & over again.

We are slowing down.

We are having pajama days. Probably every day, if I’m being honest.

We are blowing bubbles.

And when we run out of bubbles, we will play with chalk.

And when we run out of chalk, we will trace sticks in the dirt.

We are finger painting. On paper and on our bodies.

We are attempting to do crafts, even if that just means gluing together pieces of paper.

We are having dance parties.

We are turning out all the lights and playing with flashlights.

We are making rock, leaf, and stick collections.

We are having tickle fights.

We are playing in the water, whether in a kiddie pool or with our hose (that’s broken, by the way, but the kids don’t seem to care).

We are taking long baths during the middle of the day.

We are reading books together.

We are making our own books.

We are coloring.

We are cooking easy things together.

We are talking to each other. And not just “how was your day” talk. We are talking about our favorite things. Funniest memories. I’m finding out if their favorite color or best friend has changed. Or about where they think the sun is on foggy days. We are talking about the things that are important in their lives, hearts and minds. Even if it’s why their Curious George stuffed animal doesn’t have the 3 sprigs of hair he has on every show and book illustration (this was a very real & very serious conversation in our house recently).

We are eating all the fresh stuff until it runs out and then we will eat all the processed food imaginable.

We are playing.

So often as Mothers we beg for more time. “If only there were more hours in a day.” “If I could just get this done then I could sit down and play with them.” “If I can knock out these errands then we can hang out together later.”

Time is the one thing we never have enough of. And, self-quarantining and social distancing aren’t necessarily giving us more time. On the one hand, we have much less time to do all the things we need and want to do because we have zero breaks. Our kids are with us 24/7. And that’s super stressful. And hard. But on the other hand, we have more time to do all the things we always wish we could do with our kids. Things like playing.

School is cancelled. Activities are cancelled. We aren’t going out to eat or to the store. No more Target runs. The daily distractions have been temporarily removed from our lives. So in this sense, we do have more time.

So during this social distancing, stay home.

Stay separate from the rest of the world right now. We often want to do that anyways, and then when we get the chance we scoff at the idea.

I’m not scoffing. And I’m not sure I’d say I’m embracing it, either. Because all of this social distancing and self-quarantining comes from a scary place. But I am abiding by it. Because it’s the right thing to do. So I’m making the best of it.

Okay, so maybe that is embracing it now that I think about it.

We are doing everything I listed above. On our own time. Whenever we feel like it. Well, really whenever I feel like it. One day we might watch 6 movies in a row. The next we might be The Crafty McCraftersons.

Mamas, there is no right way to handle social distancing and self-quarantining during this Covid-19 outbreak.

Well, actually there is one right way: STAY HOME.

But other than that, do it however you want. Adhere to a daily schedule to save your sanity. Or throw out the schedule to save your sanity.

In addition to everything above, here are some super simple, do-able things for you to do with your young children (mine are 5 & 3 for reference) while yall are holed up at home for the foreseeable future. We will rinse & repeat these as often as we can. And want.

-Let them take long baths during the day

Seriously, let the kids take a bath when they wake up. Or mid-morning. Or in the afternoon. Don’t save it for bedtime like you usually do. And let them take a long one. Like reallyyy long. It doesn’t even matter if you bathe them. They may not need a bath. That’s not even really what it’s about. Long baths are one of my favorite mom hacks because it keeps them confined and happy and safe (obviously do not take your eyes off them). My kids love not being rushed in the bath and I love being able to sit down for over an hour and not do anything.

*Another of my favorite mom hacks is to give them a popsicle in the bath because they think it is the coolest thing ever and there is ZERO mess.

-Say “Yes” to things you normally wouldn’t

Better yet, suggest things you’re normally not down with. If you’ve ever wished you were more of a “fun mom” here’s your chance. Let them paint their bodies (with these) and then throw them in the shower. Dessert for breakfast? Sure. Making decorations for the house & taping them up everywhere? Watch them beam with pride. Going outside to play in pajamas? Yep. And stay in yours, too. Playing in the rain? Definitely, and teach them how to catch rain drops in their mouth.

-Play ice cream shop

The kids love it when I invite them to the “ice cream shop.” I put all the toppings in little bowls and let them build their own ice cream sundae.

-Play restaurant

This is something my husband did with our kids one night when I was out, and I never heard the end of it. They LOVED it. He pretended to be the waiter and took their orders (“Tonight we’re serving peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or chicken and tater tots. What would you like?”) and served them. They do it all the time now. He writes their order on a little notepad and they think it’s the greatest.

-Paint rainbow bread

This is something I only discovered recently and now it’s our new favorite thing. Get this natural food coloring delivered from Amazon (or use what you have on hand). Put the food coloring in little bowls of milk. Let them paint the bread. Either put butter & sugar on it (sugar toast, anyone?) and put it in the oven or toast it first and then spread honey on top. This is such a fun activity and doesn’t waste any of your necessary food stash (you eat the bread, and you can even let them drink the milk or make oatmeal or add it to mac & cheese, etc.)

-Gather collections

Anything can become a collection. Seriously. Anything. Pinecones, rocks, sticks, leaves, flowers. Put out some large bowls for their collections and continue to add to them during the social distancing duration. You’ll be surprised how proud they are of their collections.

-Paint rocks

And on the same token, painting rocks is one of our favorite things to do ever. I have a beautiful wooden bowl filled with their painted rocks. It’s on display at all times and I love that. Our favorite way to paint rocks is with these tempera paint crayons. They are so easy to use and so washable. They can paint the same rocks over and over again.

-Let them cook with you

If I was a Chef, I’d be something along the lines of Chef Boyardee. So let’s be real—I’m talking about doing simple things together. Like baking cookies (I use the break apart ones—that’s how simple I’m talking). One of our very favorite things to do together is make pizza biscuits. I used to do it with my grandmom and they are the most delicious things ever.  And they’re so easy & exactly what they sound like: take a can of biscuits, split them in half, add sauce + cheese + toppings (we just do black olives), cook them and then eat every last one.

-Let them watch TV

And don’t feel guilty about it. Honestly, I think TV is exactly what kids need sometimes. You like to binge watch TV. So why shouldn’t they like it, too?

-Let them work out with you

If you exercise, carve out the time to do it. Go on a bike ride, walk, run and take the kids. No, it won’t be like normal. Nothing about any of this is normal. I do yoga, and though it is definitely not relaxing or meditative to do it at home with kids climbing all over me, I can get it done-ish.

-Have a long daily quiet time

As long as possible. If your kid naps, great. If your kid doesn’t nap anymore, enforce quiet time. YOU NEED THIS TIME. Sure they do, too. But not as much as you.

My son “is trained” (but for real tho) to stay in his room for quiet time while his sister naps. That time to me is a life saver. I can rest or I can scroll the internet or I can do all the laundry. Whatever I want to do. It’s MY time. You need to make a section of the day be YOUR time, Mama. Otherwise, you will be burnt out in about oh, I don’t know, a day. (In general, this is my Mom burnout cure.)

If your kids won’t stay in their room then don’t feel guilty about putting on a movie or the 90 minute “5 Little Monkeys” compilation and telling them they get their “own time.” I have more success when I do it that way & make it fun for them versus when I say “I have to work, I need you to give me some time to myself.”

But usually I end up saying both because #momlife.

Mamas, hang in there. Social distancing with kids is hard, no matter how you cut it.

As with most things in life, a lot of making it through this with your sanity intact boils down to perspective. Sometimes we have to force a perspective shift.

And just for the record, making it through this with your health intact boils down to respecting social distancing and the seriousness of Covid-19.

We need do the best we can, not just for ourselves. But for the sake of everyone else, too.

If there is ever a time when what you do matters, it’s now.

People might say it’s an overreaction. But let me say this. We might not know if we overreact, but we will certainly know if we underreact.

Stay safe and sane, Mamas. And smart. ♥️

I’ve been writing a lot during this quarantine (because holy moly do I need an outlet!), so here are some social-distancing with kids/quarantine-related things that I hope help make your isolation a little easier—or at least make you feel like you’re not alone:

Why is Quarantine with Kids so much harder than LIFE with Kids?

Check on the Moms with Young Kids (their quarantine life is hard, too)

Others have worn masks daily for years. Now it’s our turn.

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a SAHM? Are you Scared to Fly since Becoming a Mom? Or worried about your child choking? (my child choked)

Like this post? Join MAMA’s email list to get more like this. All things MOMish—the MOMents + MOMfessions, & all the Mama Must-Haves!

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I’m a Mom and I’m scared to fly.

Actually, I’m scared to fly since becoming a Mom.

I know what you might be thinking. Who wouldn’t be scared to fly with little kids? But that’s not it at all.

I’m not scared to fly with my kids, I’m scared to fly without them.

I know, I know. In what world does that make sense?

Answer: Mine. In my world.

I’ve traveled all over the place. I count my opportunities to see this world as some of my luckiest moments. Being exposed to new people, new places, new languages, new culture, new food…it’s incredible.

I love traveling.

What I don’t love is flying.

I’ve never loved it. It’s always been a means to an end for me. With my travel destination being the end. But since becoming a Mother, I’ve developed an almost crippling fear of flying. I’m scared it’s going to be the means to a different type of end.

I’ll just come right out with it. I’m scared of my plane crashing. Truthfully, I’m not just scared to fly, I’m scared to die.

Because I love my children. Because I love being a Mother. And because I have SO much to live for since having them.

People usually think my hesitancy to travel since becoming a Mom is about my children. But it’s mostly about me.

I’m not worried about my kids being okay while I am away on a trip. I know they’ll be in the best hands ever. Capable, loving, family hands. Family members who are so in tune with them and their safety & well-being that I don’t think twice about leaving them. I know they’ll be okay.

I just don’t know if I’ll be okay.

And I don’t mean in terms of missing them. Cue all the “Oh you’ll miss them but it will feel good to get away” comments. I know how good it will feel to get away. To have a break. To avoid mom burnout. And of course I will miss them—they’re my babies! All hail FaceTime for making it possible to see their precious faces from halfway across the world. And I’m sorry if seeing Mama & Daddy makes it harder on whoever is taking care of them (shout out to my Mom & Sis!), but this Mama’s gotta see her babies.

As much as I adore my children and just Motherhood in general (I’m a SAHM & think being a Mother is what I was born to do), every time I travel it is so refreshing. It feels good to play hookie. I love connecting with my husband, whether it be for a night out or a week away. It’s nice to have regular conversations instead of the fractured sentences we try to finish every few minutes but never quite do. Also, morning sex.

It’s nice to have a breather but, inevitably, by the end of every trip I am absolutely dying to see them. So yes, I’ll miss them.

[click_to_tweet tweet=”But my anxiety is not about missing my children. It’s about missing out on them.” quote=”But my anxiety is not about missing my children. It’s about missing out on them.” theme=”style7″]

I’m the Mom who doesn’t want to miss a single moment of my kids’ lives. I want to soak up every hug, every snuggle, every little handprint. So the thought of missing all the moments unravels me to my core. It utterly destroys me.

I don’t want my children to grow up without a Mother.

Actually, let me say that differently—I don’t want them to grow up without ME.

Because that’s what I really mean.

Believe it or not, I’m not an anxious person. I’m actually a pretty practical person.

But mostly, I am a feeling person. I have a lot of feelings. About a lot of things. And they aren’t easily ignored.

My fear of flying is one of these feelings.

And that feeling is strong. Crippling even. The “cars are so much more dangerous” argument doesn’t help me at all. The statistics that are completely in my favor don’t make an iota of difference to me. The “airplanes are so safe” facts have zilch effect. The pilot neighbor who has piloted planes his entire life coming over to sit on my porch at my husband’s request to explain how safe flying is doesn’t work for me. (Okay, that one worked a little because I was able to grill him on things like drunk pilots that you read about in the news, etc…but not enough to alleviate my fear). And God Forbid don’t you dare tell me “everything happens for a reason.” Because I’m a firm non-believer in that and I honestly think it is a terrible thing to say to people (more on that in another post).

If a plane crash is in the news, I can’t stop reading about it. I’m almost obsessive, trying to figure out what went wrong, was it human or mechanical error, what could have been done to save the plane and thus everyone in it, etc. My husband says I torture myself by doing that. I clap back that I just want to be knowledgeable about it. He’s not wrong. But neither am I.

When you’re as scared to fly as I am, you worry when they say something’s not working and you worry when they say it’s fixed (because, is it?!).

I know, it’s completely ridiculous.

When I’m in the airport calmly (on the outside—inside I’m a wad of nerves) waiting to board and I hear the dreaded “Flight XXXX has been delayed,” my entire body tenses. And if it’s for a technical issue—my inner shit just hit the fan. I have conflicting feelings because on the one hand, thank you Jesus that they caught it. But on the other hand, I worry they’ll do a quick bandaid type fix. I get suspicious my HVAC guy might not fix my air unit right. You don’t think I worry about this supposedly expert aviation tech team that knows how to fix all the problems on all the planes all the time?

I DO.

My husband is a physician. Since I’ve become scared to fly he always suggests that I take Xanax or something to ease my anxiety. My response is always the same: “I want to be alert.”

I know that sounds crazy. But hear me out.

IF something were to happen with our flight, I want to be 100000% on my A game. In the event of an emergency landing, I want to be able to spring into action. If someone has evil intentions, I want to be prepared. I want to know where the exit rows are. And I want to be ready. I don’t want to be hazy. <Insert my husband’s exasperated sigh as I explain this to him—yet again—here.>

I listened to & watched the Flight Attendant Safety Demo intently on my first flight as a junior in college. And I’ve half-heartedly listened since then, but never at full attention (except when Delta had that cheeky video one).

But you know who tunes into the Flight Safety Talk like their life depends on it (because it could)?

Moms who are scared to fly since having kids.

You better believe I want to know if the bottom of my seat is the flotation device, where my closest exit is, and not to worry if my oxygen mask doesn’t inflate because oxygen is still flowing. Tell me more, Plane Safety Gods. I want to know it all.

I assess the people around me. Gauge how they might hold up in a crisis situation. She looks strong. He looks able-bodied. Ooh, he looks weak. She looks too relaxed.

When the “Seat belts fastened” light unexpectedly dings, my mind goes into overdrive. “Does the pilot know something we don’t?” OF COURSE THE PILOT KNOWS SOMETHING I DON’T. The pilot knows a million things I don’t. The physics of flying. Aerodynamics. The weather at the current altitude. Air pockets. The route. To. Name. A. Few.

And no, I don’t want to fly separately from my husband, though I absolutely understand why many couples do that. I get it and it’s honestly probably the smart thing to do. But selfishly, it doesn’t really make me feel any better. In fact that would just layer on the worry because then I’d have to worry about his plane, too. And God I love that man.

But, here’s the clincher. This is where it gets (or I get?) even crazier.

I would be more okay if I had my kids with me on the plane.

I KNOW IT.  <face palm>

How can I be so scared to fly when my kids aren’t with me but magically unafraid when they are?

It makes no sense. But it’s the truth.

I’d feel so much more okay if I was sandwiched between my children on every flight, holding their little bodies close and feeling all that love. That seems unusual coming from someone who is so scared to fly. Morbid even. Like “I’m terrified to fly unless my kids are with me.” Wait, what?

I never let myself go this far into it because even grazing past these thoughts crumples me, but for the sake of this post I will delve into it one time and one time only.

If I really break it down I think it’s because it’s a Mother’s instinct to protect her young, especially in an emergency (like the scariest moment of my life when my child choked). And holding my kids close to me & then springing into the Supermom action hero makes me feel safer.

And to go even deeper, I also think it’s because I want to hold them until the very end. My end. And if I’m alone on a flight and something happens, they’re so far away. I can’t hold them and tell them how much Mama loves them until my very last breath.

I’m scared to fly because I don’t want to die.

That’s what it all boils down to. And I know there are a million ways to die, but planes really scare me. Though anything that could take me away from my children, or vice versa, scares me to death.

If you could guarantee me that I’d get to my destination and back home safely, I’d never bat an eye about hopping on a plane and flying across the world. I really do love traveling.

My husband is scared to fly since becoming a parent, too. But he says he doesn’t want to be paralyzed by fear or let it stop us from living our lives.

I remind him he wouldn’t feel that way if we didn’t make it back.

He agrees.

We traveled a bunch before having children. I traveled 5 months pregnant with my first. We traveled after having our son. I traveled 5 months pregnant with my second. And I’ve traveled since having her. Each time it’s harder and harder. At this point it’s edging near impossible for me.

No trip is worth the risk of not being here for and with my kids. And yet here I am thinking about taking that risk. Sure, I have a wonderful trip to gain. But I have everything to lose. Everything. Putting it like that makes me wonder how I could even consider it. And yet here I am. Considering it.

Year after year, trip after trip. Considering it. Risking it. Everything.

So what do we do? Those of us scared to fly since having children? Do we stay put and never travel again? Or do we take that risk, ignore our fear of flying, and get on the plane?

I’m supposed to fly soon. Very soon.

And far. Very far.

I bought “Gold Package” travel insurance just in case my babies get sick. Or we get sick. Or in case I just can’t step foot on the plane. (ding ding ding)

Where do we stand on teleporting these days? Sheldon? Elon Musk? Richard Branson? Anybody?

Are you scared to fly since becoming a Mom, too? Tell me in the comments. And if you have any tips for fear of flying, please help a scared Mama out & give me those, too!

Want more on Motherhood? —> Are you a Stay at Home Mom? Has your child choked? (mine did) Have you been mom-shamed?

Like this post? Join MAMA’s email list to get more like this. All things MOMish—the MOMents + MOMfessions, & all the Mama Must-Haves!

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