Becoming a good mom, one hour at a time
Truth: It’s not always pretty, but there it is. When motherhood is hard, joyful, heartbreaking or all those things at once, here’s where you can get mom real talk.
The other day I was driving home when I saw the google maps car zipping along in front of me. I cracked up, which made my girls ask, “What are you laughing at, Mama?” Well, the funny way time passes was what made me laugh—but that would have made little sense to my kids, who just turned 3 and 5.
I told them a story instead. Read more
At the beginning of February, I wrote about how I was feeling exhausted—physically, mentally and emotionally. So I made it my monthly resolution to restore and replenish. It’s been just a month since then, which isn’t a ton of time for big changes, but I can say this: I feel so much better. I feel more like myself. And I’m embracing self-care.
Meaningful change is gradual. Like crash diets or cramming for a test, intense bouts of self-reinvention rarely lead to lasting, sustained changes. What’s more, the all-out mentality isn’t exactly refreshing, is it?
So I approached my goal to restore and replenish less as a project and more of a practice in intentionality, self-reflection, self-care and even paring back.
The result: I feel more energized (even though I’m still tired—I blame nearly three years of raising a terrible sleeper). I feel happier. I feel more in touch with those I love. I feel more like myself.
These are the 6 things that helped me get here. I know that self-care isn’t a one-time deal; self-care is an ongoing practice to treat yourself as well as you treat others. So I’ll check in on this post going forward to remind myself of the things that helped me feel more like myself. I hope they help you, too.
One weekend. Eight moms. Two hikes. Plenty of wine and good food. An absurd amount of snacks. Our Moms’ Weekend trip to Hood River added up to a fun, restorative trip we won’t soon forget.
The eight of us have been friends since we were in moms’ group together, when our kids were babies. In some cases, we’ve known each other since our littles were just weeks old. Now that our kids are toddlers, many of us get together every week for homeschool preschool.
We keep in close touch—but even though we hang out often, we seldom get the chance to truly connect. After all, it’s hard to have a sustained conversation when kids are running sprints in the house, asking for more goldfish crackers and getting into fistfights over Paw Patrol toys.
We needed a Moms’ Weekend.
We planned our Moms’ Weekend in Hood River for months, putting it on the calendar so everyone could plan around it. We chose a house in Hood River, decided who would cook which meal and scoped out fun things to do.
When you have eight moms planning a trip, it’s going to be organized—and awesome.
Once we set out, leaving our families behind (except for one mom who brought her second baby—squee!), we also shed responsibilities. We didn’t have schedules or anywhere to be. We had a wide-open Moms’ Weekend in Hood River with some of our closest friends. It was primed to be epic.
In my first yoga class in ages, the instructor began by asking us to put a hand on our heart and set an intention for our practice that day. The first thing that came to my mind: restore. I’ve been feeling burnt out physically, mentally and emotionally, so for my monthly resolution I’m focusing on replenishing my reserves and trying to get back to my usual self.
The other morning Kiwi got up before the rest of the family. Like many mornings, we cuddled on a chair and woke up together. I pulled a quilt over us, one I’d sewed when I was pregnant with Peeper.
“I made this quilt when I was pregnant with your sister,” I told Kiwi.
“I come there?” Kiwi asked.
I wasn’t sure what she meant. “When you pregnant?” she added.
I clarified that I was pregnant with her after Peeper was already born. (Details like these often escape toddlers.)
“You grew inside me,” I explained. I pinched two fingers together until they were almost touching. “You were this little, and then you grew bigger and bigger and bigger inside my belly until you were born!”
Kiwi paused, taking this in. Then she said, “Thanks, mommy.”
*heart melt*
You’re welcome, my beautiful daughter. Even without that perfect toddler thank you, I’d do it a million times over if it meant I’d get you in my life.
I have been a paying business member of The Perlene, the all-women social club and feminist coworking space in Portland, Oregon, since last summer. This post was not paid, sponsored or solicited. I wrote it entirely on my own because I think it’s crucial to support women and mothers to find your people wherever they may be.
Last summer, I found myself in a great place in my career as a freelance writer: I was working consistently. I was writing inspiring stories about nonprofits doing great things and kids changing the world through technology. I was publishing stories in magazines and web sites like Cosmo, Real Simple, Scary Mommy and Travel Portland. The problem: I was lonely.
I worked by myself at my home office, and it wasn’t uncommon that I’d get to bedtime and realize I didn’t step outside that day. I talked to folks over the phone but rarely had face-to-face conversations with people outside my family. And I found my productivity dwindling.
I remembered the good feeling I had getting a ton done while working with a colleague at WeWork in Portland. But the community—or lack thereof—was a turnoff. I didn’t feel like I’d find my people among all the tech bros working on four giant monitors.
A little googling led me to a new space that sounded more my speed: The Perlene, Portland’s feminist social club and coworking space. I had the feeling I would find my people here. Read more
Thinking back on 2017, I remember a lot of anxiety, frustration and fear about the direction our country is headed. I was ready to say goodbye to the year with relief—then we spent the final days of the year at the coast. There’s something about the ocean’s rhythms that put me at peace, and apparently the trip gave me a healthy dose of perspective, too. I wanted to welcome 2018, then, with some New Year gratitude.
I pulled together 12 of my favorite moments from 2017 in this recap post. I had such a blast looking through photos and remembering these moments. I kept laughing out loud at my family’s shenanigans.
New Year gratitude exercises are becoming a bit of a tradition around here, apparently. I wrote a post about what I was grateful for in 2016 and listed 50 things I’m grateful for at the end of 2015—it’s wonderful to look back on those posts!
No one can know what the future will bring, but we’ll do our best to make 2018 just as memorable as last year—and to continue New Year gratitude throughout the next 12 months, too.
Read more
Christmas has come and gone, and in spite of a holiday hangover, we had a phenomenal day.
The morning started with the girls and their cousin absolutely jazzed about their stockings, the presents under the tree and the note Santa left behind thanking them for the cookies, milk and carrots they left out the night before. We opened presents in shifts—after all, kids’ attention spans are short enough that they want to play with the toys they just got for Christmas.
But in all, the best part of Christmas didn’t come wrapped. As always, the best present was the presence of our loved ones.
A friend recently told me they’re thinking of having Baby #2. My immediate reaction: awwwwww! In spite of having some really difficult nights—which involve hours and hours of trying to get the girls to sleep—and breaking up fights over the most ridiculous things—like wanting to sit on these six square inches of couch despite having a whole sectional with plenty of room—I’m happy for my friend because of the love of sisters.
Just the other night, I was reading the girls a book. I noticed their arms reach out for each other. They hugged the whole time I read, and I pretended not to notice for fear of disrupting their special sister moment.
My heart nearly burst, though, when I heard Kiwi: “Aw, big sister,” she crooned. Maybe, just maybe, these two are on their way to becoming best friends.
Kiwi, at two years old, is single-handedly wrecking Christmas.
Ok not really, but this toddler is destroying Christmas decorations at an alarming pace.
“Be very careful,” she says as she pulls an ornament off the tree, despite our “one finger” rule, which I designed to let her sort-of touch the fragile baubles without actually inflicting any harm.
In spite of her promises/self-warnings, though, ornaments end up in pieces within seconds.
So far, several penguins, two angels, a snowman, a chairlift full of animals Eric had previously declared “unbreakable” and another handful of decorations are awaiting repair—or, more likely, the trash—in a makeshift ornament graveyard atop the microwave. And we still have a week until Christmas—plenty of time for more casualties.
