Blog · Mom Life

Blow your Stress Away


We opened our first full course “Blow Your Stress Away”

This course is geared for parents who feel stressed out, or just are overwhelmed with their lives. If you are feeling like your life is spinning out of control, or you just aren’t being the Parent you want to be, this course is for you!

I’m offering limited Beta Testing spots for $10 and a chance to win a $20 Amazon Gift card. All beta testers that complete the course and feedback will be entered to win.

We are offering this because we want you to be a part of our community right from the start. We want to hear your opinions and grow this course with what you need. As a Beta Tester, you will have full access to our entire course for life! This includes any and all updates, additional resources or bonuses we may add in the future.

Help us create a course that addresses your needs!

If you are ready to find the humor in everyday parenting catastrophes, this is the course for you. In this 3-part course, I will guide you through gathering your thoughts about your stress, identifying what is making you the most stressed (you might be surprised at what you find), and activating new habits to reduce your daily stress levels.

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Mom Life

Why you are too hard on yourself

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Stay-at-home-moms are way to hard on ourselves to be “productive”

If you were paying for someone to watch your children, you would not want them working on other businesses and jobs while doing so! If we hire a housekeeper to come in and scrub our bathroom, we do not expect them to wipe our kid’s butt while doing so. But we do expect that of ourselves. We expect that we can play the roles of a daycare provider, housekeeper, chef,  and chauffeur. Many of us have additional roles that we are playing. Teacher, business owner, blogger, accountant.

Whatever your roles are I encourage you to list them out! Check out our checklist below for a huge number of roles that you might be carrying that you might not even know you are doing

Get your Checklist of Roles Here

We do all of these roles, most of the time at the sacrifice of ourselves. But we still think that we aren’t doing enough. We still feel like we need to be doing more in the day.

I’m here to tell you, you are awesome! You are doing a lot! And you should feel good about that!

Mom Life

Community Spirit

Motherhood is wonderful. I love spending time with my kids and watching them grow up. But it is also lonely. Most days I only have the kids around me to talk to all day. And 5-year-olds are only so good at holding conversations. But even more than that we are really busy. Between work, and kid activities, and trying to keep on top of the house, life gets caught up in just surviving. We don’t have the time needed to foster friendships, especially new friendships. Unless it involves the kids we probably aren’t seeing many adults. And for those of us with young children, there is even less of an opportunity to get out and socialize.

Let’s face it, when we do end up going to a playdate or music class we spend most of the time following our kids around and answering their questions.  We think of these outings as a time to come together with other parents and socialize, but many turn out to be a “Parent your children alone, together” event. And on the off chance that your kids and their kids are all playing nicely together with no questions or traumas, then most of the time we are just overly tired and sit in silence (for a few seconds before my kid throws sand and I have to get up).

All of this can lead to a really lonely feeling. The old saying is that it takes a village to raise a child, but the truth is, we don’t have a village anymore. The support for parents is lacking wisdom that was once passed from one mother to the next is lost or mixed up with myths and inaccuracies. And the internet makes it next to impossible to tell the difference.

I’ve felt it, maybe you have too. This is why I wanted to start a community for mothers just like us. This group is for real-life mothers to get support, ask questions, and share our experience.

We are moms that are engaged, busy, and tired. Our life isn’t perfect. We aren’t magazine-beautiful parents. We wear sweatpants or leggings. We aren’t sure when the last time we brushed our hair was. We blew up at our kids who still do not have their shoes on. We tote kids from activity to activity. Some of us run businesses or work, some of us run after our kids all day, some of us do it all. Some of us are dealing with toddler tantrums, some are dealing with teenage attitude. Wherever you are. You will find your tribe here.

We are here to support each other and help create the best versions of ourselves. We don’t have it altogether, but we are trying. This group is for real-life mothers to get support, ask questions, and share our experience.

If this sounds like the place for you, join my community below.


This community is only open to the public for a limited time. All applicants will be accepted Jan 31st with our big welcome party, which will include giveaways and freebies

Blog · Goals · Mom Life

Why we stay awake for the New Year


I always meet the new year with a significant amount of excitement and let-down. As it approaches, I tend to see the new year as a big deal. It is the start of something new. A new beginning. A chance to try again. That idea is exciting, possibly even life-changing. I get very hyped-up about it.  But there is always somewhat of a letdown.


As my daughter exclaimed at 11:56 pm on New Year’s Eve “I’m going to bed”.

Ringing in that moment of the new year has never been quite as exciting as I anticipate. It’s like your birthday when you are a kid, you wait and wait, and then on your birthday, you don’t feel any older. You are still you, there is no moment or spark that happens that you can say now you are one year older.

New year’s eve is the same. There is no moment where your new life starts. The old year will pass and the new year will come in. But you will be there, still the same person you were.

There isn’t magic at midnight.

The magic isn’t in that one minute change over. It happens slowly. The changes come the next day when you decide that you want to lose weight or quit working so hard. It comes in a week when you are sweating at the gym trying to fulfill your resolutions. It comes in a month when you find a new friendship because you decided that you would have a more positive attitude. It comes throughout the year when you make memories with your family.

So why not go to bed? Why do we feel the need to stay up to watch the moment when one year comes to an end and another one starts?

There is a quote going around on Facebook from Brad Paisley

“Tomorrow is the first blank page of a 365-page book. Write a good one.”

I think, like me, many have excitement and anxiety over endings and beginnings. The middle is where most of us are comfortable. It might be messy, but it is easy. There isn’t any build-up or anticipation of the blank pages. There isn’t the set-up and work we must do to dive into a story.  There also isn’t any of the climaxes of the end of the story. There is just the everyday, normal, easy to deal with, plot points. The groundwork is down, the ending isn’t here yet. Life just goes on. And this is both comfortable and depressing all at the same time.

I think so many of us fall into “survival mode” that by the time Christmas comes and goes, we start to realize that we aren’t living the life we want. We, literally, are just surviving. The new year gives us a reason to dream big once again. We want to stay up and mark that moment. For us dreamers and goal setters, this moment, however fleeting and unimportant it may seem, holds all the power of successful beginnings.

As a mom, I frequently feel like I have failed. In that moment of the New Year, we are a blank slate. We haven’t screwed anything up, or let anyone down yet. We haven’t forgotten about ourselves. We just are. We are at the start of that 365-day story. Ready to write that very first word.

But the truth is, we can’t live that way. We can’t forget and start over again. And really, why would we want to? Each year is not its own book. The lessons the past year brought were important. They also hold your motivation as to why you want things to go differently. This is why I believe it is also important to look back and acknowledge the past year. Be grateful for the things that came to you and be mindful of the things you want to change. Only then will you be ready to make the big changes you want to see in yourself.

So, whether you stayed up in anticipation of the new year or if you just went to bed, let’s acknowledge our stories of the last year and start writing this year.


Mailing List

If you are ready to take the next step and achieve your goals. Join our Busy Mom’s Mastermind Group.

This is a mastermind set up for Busy Mom’s who want a small close-knit community that understands their needs for understanding and support but also have to have someone kick them in the pants and get them moving. It’s where the support of a best friend meets productivity, motivation, and focus.


Happy New Year From My Family To Yours

Birth · Mom Life · Pregnancy

The long journey of postpartum depression

In continuing a theme, of things we don’t talk about as mothers. I want to take a second to talk about postpartum depression (PPD). With my first two babies, I didn’t have PPD, I have pregnancy depression. Pregnancy depression is awful. It makes it hard to get excited about the baby and hard to do things like decorating a nursery. With my first pregnancy, my pregnancy depression left me so anxiety-filled that I was riddled with worry over my husband’s safety at work. I would spend most days checking the police scanner facebook pages to make sure nothing crazy was happening and would be waiting by the phone for him to call me and let me know he was on his way home. With my second pregnancy, I cried all the way through it thinking about how my oldest wouldn’t be the baby anymore. I worried about how Tempest would like her sister and was concerned that we made a mistake by having more than one kid and not being able to give them all the attention.

But in both of these cases, there was an endpoint. The point I knew was coming when I was faced with the same depression for pregnancy number 3.  I knew if I could just hold on hope for a few more months, the anxiety and depression would fade away. With birth came relief.

That did not happen the third time. Instead Birth and postpartum sent me into a downward spiral of one of the most terrifying times in my life. I had given up on everything.

It started small enough. I was already depressed and anxious from suffering from pregnancy-induced depression. After I gave birth, I was expecting it to go away. I waited in the hospital to feel that rush of happy that I had felt with my other two births. It did not come. I noted that unlike the last two births, this time the hospital I was at let me get no sleep at all. There were a number of people in and out of my room. The longest stint I had without seeing a nurse or dietitian or lactation consultant was 2 hours. Which happened once. Most of the time there was less than 20 minutes between people coming and going. Checking my blood sugar. Checking baby. Checking me. I was exhausted and I knew that when I got out of there and back home it would be better.

It wasn’t. When I got home that rush of happiness didn’t come. Instead, My anxiety increased. There were no longer people coming in and out of my room, and we are lucky that our children sleep a significant amount when tiny (Opal was sleeping for 5-hour stints at 4 days old). But I still wasn’t sleeping. I was staring at a tiny baby, concerned she would stop breathing. I worried constantly about her. I couldn’t sleep. I worried about our other cuties in their bedroom. Where they too hot? Too cold? Breathing ok? I couldn’t sleep. I would drift off for moments at a time but wasn’t actually sleeping. The girls were waking up at their normal time. I couldn’t function. I was feeding them whatever they could find and bring me. Whatever I could do to make them happy and leave me alone. There were days the girls wouldn’t even eat one real meal. We were surviving on chips, candy, pepperonis, and beef sticks.

My Muscles ached. I was still bleeding. At night I was still holding myself up to walk. My legs were giving up. My mind had already. I was as close to autopilot as I could be. Any effort to pull myself out of it only made it worse.

And the most gut-wrenching, rock-bottom feeling of all. I hated everything and everybody. And I really mean HATED. I was so angry. I was sad, yes. I was anxious, yes. But the Anger I never expected. I typically do not have a lot of anger. I get frustrated and sad, but not angry. But now I was full of rage. Full-on white-hot rage. I hated the house and how messy it was. I hated Tim’s work. I hated my body for how tired I was. I hated my midwives and my hospital experience. I hated my husband. You should feel sorry for him. I was 100% full on bitch. I am lucky he didn’t walk away. I just wanted him to leave. I did not want to see him at all.

And the very worst point for me, I hate my kids. I could not handle any bit of complaining, whining, or yelling. I couldn’t even look at them without feeling frustrated. I just wanted them to sit and play quietly (something that does not happen ever with two young kids with Sensory processing and ADHD).  I wanted them to be asleep just for some peace and quiet. I did not want them to talk to me. I couldn’t handle them asking for one more thing.  It wasn’t because I didn’t feel the same love I always had for them. Or because I was actually angry at them. It was because I knew with every request they made, I was disappointing them more and more. I was failing as a mom every time they asked me to get them lunch and I couldn’t. I hated myself.

I suffered way too long. It was a couple weeks before I realized this was a serious problem. A few more before I knew that my efforts to get outside or sleep more were not going to change anything. And a few more before I would actually reach out for help.

I suffered almost 7 weeks before I asked my doctor for help. It shouldn’t have taken so long. But it did. And it did because I waited until my check-up appointment. I didn’t feel sick enough, worthy enough, strong enough, to call and discuss my feelings with my doctor. Making a call specifically for that was terrifying to me. Plus it was another “to-do” that I just couldn’t do. I have no doubt that if I had a midwife like I did with Tempest, I would have gotten help sooner. When Tempest was born, my midwife was back at my house the next day, then again 3 days later, then a week after birth, and again 2 weeks after birth. She had planned to be back at 4 weeks (but we were in the hospital with pertussis). She would have noticed my significant mood change. And even if she didn’t, it would have been easier for me to ask for help or ask if I should wait to try medication and when we should consider it. But I didn’t have that this time, I had wonderful midwives, but they were following standard protocol. They were there for the wellbeing of my baby. But that sometimes made me feel like I was just the vessel that you protect.

I finally did get help. I am still struggling with PPD. I am still on medication. But reaching out for help was the biggest thing I could have done. I still feel angrier than I used to. And I have a much shorter fuse. But I can feel myself getting better. I can take care and have fun with my children again.

PPD is a serious problem. The CDC estimates 11-20% of mothers will experience PPD, 80% will experience baby blues. You are not alone.  The more stories we share and the more we understand this is ok. Whatever you are feeling, it is ok. and there is help and support out there. Until the healthcare system improves, you will have to make the effort. But do it. Do not suffer. And if you know someone who has had a baby, go visit. Bring food and leave your judgments. Ask how they are doing. Really listen. Offer to go with them to the doctors or help them in whatever way you can.


Mom Life

The Vaccine Debate

I typically stay away from controversial topics online. This isn’t because I don’t have strong feelings about them, because I do. I stay away from these topics because I am tired, and busy, and I don’t have time or desire to argue.

With that said, I want to take a second to discuss a very controversial topic in mommy land; Vaccines. Many of my friends are much more crunchy than I am. I am surrounded by many people who think formula companies are evil, disposable diapers are the devil, and that by feeding my children anything but organic is trying to kill them. They also have very strong feelings about vaccines; I do too.

When I find out others don’t vaccinate or that they don’t believe we should vaccinate, I typically stay silent about it. I admit that I judge them a little bit harsher, but in the end I try to respect parental choices for their children. I can’t always say they offer me the same courtesy. Multiple time I have had people tell me, both in person and online, that I am poisoning my children. I have heard comments like “You shouldn’t be allowed to have kids with parenting decisions like that” (yes, someone actually told me that once).

But there is something those people do not understand. I have seen the pain caused by one of those diseases.

So to anyone who feels like they want to criticize me for vaccinating, I ask you to stop and think.  Until you have held the body of a tiny child, turning blue from lack of oxygen; until you have to perform CPR because of a disease that “most people recover from”; Until you sit by the hospital bed for a month with your infant praying that they keep breathing; you have nothing to say to me.

At two weeks old, Tempest contracted pertussis. Before she was 3 weeks old we were rushing to the hospital. She was coughing so much she would stop breathing. Her lips were blue has I smacked her back, praying that her breathing started again. I couldnt cry or think. Breathing again, I grabbed tim and we were off to the hospital.

In the ER my body shook.  Days before we were told she had Bronchiolitis and that she would be fine, but this wasn’t fine and I knew something was seriously wrong.  It wasn’t long before we were told we were staying and we were sent up to the pediatric unit. It was suspected that she had Pertussis. A few hours later, once again she turned blue. I stood by as I watched nurses run in, putting oxygen on her face and hitting her in the back to get her to breathe. We were quickly transferred to the PICU where we were ushered into our cramped room, with a big quarantine sign on the door. We would spend almost a month in that room. We would spend our daughter’s first holiday in that room.

At least twice a day (but more like 5-6 times) I would be asked about our vaccine plans. She was too little to have received the DTAP vaccine, but it didn’t stop doctors from assuming. I felt like a failure as a mom. I felt that my choices had put us there. But that simply wasn’t true. But I knew I never wanted to feel that way again. I knew I didn’t want to be in a position where I didn’t do everything I could to protect my children. I know that the anti-vaccine moms feel that they are doing the same thing, protecting their children. And this is why I try not to judge, or at the very least not call them out and tell them they are making mistakes. But sitting in the hospital, I realized I brought my child here. I went to them for help when I didn’t think I could help her. While I may not agree with the medical community all the time. A lot of research and mother’s intuition tell me that vaccines are more good than harm. So until you hold your child, helpless to fight the disease that might be killing them and you decide that is still better than a vaccine, you have no say in my parenting choice.

Baby · Mom Life

Sometimes Breast is Not Best, and That’s OK

When I pull out a bottle of formula, I feel eyes on me from other parents. When I see all those cute pictures of breastfeeding babies, I get a little bit jealous (and a large amount of guilt). Both of the older girls were bottle fed with breast milk, at least for 3 months before we introduced formula and Opal is still breastfeeding (and hates bottles). But we moved to formula and chances are we will again.

There are lots of people who will stand up for formula fed infants and there are plenty of stories about mom’s who don’t produce, or babies who refuse to latch. This wasn’t me. I produced a lot, especially early on. Alice latched perfectly from day one. Breastfeeding just wasn’t for me.

My secret is, I hate breastfeeding. It wasn’t magical, or amazing for me. It was awkward, and uncomfortable. I dreaded feeding time. And feeding time for my babies was a lot (I mean have you seen Alice? she is the size of a 4 year old at 2).

So, I quickly moved to pumping. When Tempest was little, this was a necessity. She didn’t have a good latch and was losing weight fast. She finally got the hang of feeding  (with a shield) just in time for us to end up in the hospital with pertussis. Not only was breastfeeding next to impossible with all the alarms and wires hooked up to her, but they wanted to keep track of exactly how much she was eating. So, I pumped. And honestly, I was happy with that. Once released from the hospital we just never went back. I continued to pump for 3 more months until throwing in the towel, and about 3 weeks later we had to buy formula because my freezer supply was gone. All on all, she was on breast milk for 6 months. I still felt like a failure. I still felt like if I tried a little harder, or stuck with a better pumping schedule, or put in more power pumping sessions, that it would have been better. But honestly, I was done. I was exhausted. I, and my husband, were sick of me flinching every time he touched me because I was so over it. I was tired of waking up to pump and finding time to excuse myself, and stop playing with baby. Life became nothing more than feeding and producing food. I wasn’t my own person, or a mom. I was a walking refrigerator. I was on edge all the time.

A mom who is on edge all the time, is no good or baby.

By the time I had Alice I hadn’t gotten over the guilt and we started the whole process over again. We tried breast feeding for about a week before I started also pumping. Tim had taken over much of the baby care, because Tempest, at 1 1/2, needed a lot of attention and playing. Before Alice was a month old we moved to exclusively pumping again. It works for my family. But in all honesty, I am not very dedicated to pumping. By the time work started back up, a month later, we also had the Renaissance festival start up. And if I thought pumping on a college campus was hard, try pumping at a Renaissance festival, where your days are 14 hours long and your in the open. I was lucky to pump once a day. By September, I was done. And we moved to formula.

This time I don’t have the guilt. I knew I wanted to start at least for a week or so with breastfeeding. But figure we would move pretty fast to pumping and then to formula once again. I’m happy playing it by ear and when we are done I will be proud of myself for every day that she was breastfed. I won’t beat myself up or let myself feel like a failure. Because I’m not a failure. Yes, I could have pushed myself, but losing myself isn’t worth whatever benefits breastmilk has. My children are served better with a mom that is relaxed and happy (or at least not as stressed out).

Oddly enough breastfeeding this time is totally different, maybe because I am different. I don’t mind it as much, and I am not nearly as shy as I was. Before I would bottle feed in public because I didn’t want to offend people, and maybe I was a little embarrassed. This time I will happily breastfeed wherever I am. Opal is much cuddlier than the other two. My other children are old enough to play together so I have time for baby. Life this time is easier, so breastfeeding is easier. But also Opal has a horrible gag reflex which has made bottle feeding pretty impossible so far. But really, I don’t mind. We are a month in and still going. But when I decide to stop, I will be happy. My family will be happy.

Fed is best.

Sleeping Opal
Milk Drunk Babies Sleep So Well