A Mom’s Unscripted Life

Tag: #mommyhood

  • Facing Fear

    It’s crazy how fear can be the biggest roadblock in your life. Whether it’s the fear of speaking up, of standing your ground, of hurting others, of meeting new people, or just the fear of change—it can all hold you back. But here’s the thing: if you can just rip off that proverbial band-aid and face your fears, you might end up surprising yourself with what you can achieve.

    People often ask me what keeps me going. Truthfully, it’s the determination not to let fear dictate my life. I want to teach my kids not to back down just because they feel afraid, just as I wanted my nieces to know there are no excuses for staying in your comfort zone only to end up miserable later on. Believe me, it hasn’t always been smooth sailing; my journey has had more bumps than a country road. Each challenge was a lesson I had to confront and learn from.

    Perfection isn’t the goal here. It’s about striving for improvement and giving yourself grace when things don’t go perfectly. For me, prayer plays a crucial role. Though I’m not always in church on Sundays—life happens—prayer is a constant. I make it a point to pray during my morning drives, thanking God for the amazing things in my life. A lot of folks might not know this, but I was once in a very dark place and even attempted to take my own life. Being able to thank God for this second chance and for my beautiful, healthy family is something I’ll forever be grateful for.

    Whenever uncertainty creeps in, I pray for guidance to stay on His path and for the courage not to sweat the small stuff. I’m not naïve—I know decisions must be made to get results. I just believe those results often come with a nudge in the right direction from above. Plus, if nothing else, figuring life out one prayer at a time offers fewer calories than stress-eating an entire cheesecake, right?

    So what I’m trying to get to is this: my hope for you and for everyone is to have faith that you’ll conquer your biggest fears, as long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other. Just think of it as an epic journey—like Frodo’s, but with less jewelry and hopefully fewer orcs!

  • Being a Military Spouse

    I’m not sure how many of you know this, but I am now a military spouse, and while I was formally in the Air Force, it’s a whole different experience being on this side of things! I used to think military spouses had it easy—we lovingly called them “Dependa-potamuses”—but now that I’m on this side, wow, it’s like I’ve discovered a whole new world! There’s so much work that goes into being part of a military family: taking care of the kids, supporting your spouse, and maintaining a semblance of a job. Building a career feels like chasing a balloon in the wind—just when you think you’ve got it, poof, it’s time to move again!

    My husband is set to move soon, and it’s challenging to manage the anxiety about what will happen to my career. After my divorce from my first husband, I really focused on building myself up—chasing my goals, furthering my education, and enhancing my career. Now, as a military spouse, my priorities are shifting. I need to focus on what’s best for my family, my sons, my husband, and—let’s not forget—myself. I know not everyone will agree with my perspective, and that’s fine; we’re all entitled to our own opinions.

    Yet, it’s incredibly hard to balance my identity as a professional with my roles as a mother and military spouse. Remote work options seem to be as rare as a unicorn basking in a double rainbow, given the current political climate. It often feels like I’ve got to choose: follow my career dreams or follow my husband wherever his duty calls. Fortunately, I might have a shot at transitioning into a remote role, though it’s as guaranteed as finding a pot of gold.

    While I’m excited for our next adventure—wherever that might be—I’m also a bundle of nerves and anxiety. There are moments I wish I were still in the Air Force, but unfortunately, my medical issues had other plans. And you know what? That’s okay. I firmly believe that God is guiding me on the path I’m meant to follow. So long as I keep praying and trusting in His plan, I know my family and I can navigate through any hardships that might come our way.

    I remind myself that my words are my sharpest tools, so for now, it’s all about focusing on my degrees, supporting my family, pondering my career when the dust settles, and just rolling with the punches. I’m on God’s path, not mine, and it’s all part of the journey—even the parts that feel like a never-ending game of Whac-A-Mole. Let me know if any of you have thoughts or advice on this wild ride!

  • Weekday Bliss

    Last night, I got home a bit early from work to help my dad with the boys because my mom had a doctor’s appointment. When I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to find my son miraculously well-behaved for the first time in what felt like ages. Lately, he’s been going through a whiny phase—perhaps it’s the onset of the “terrible twos” or maybe just the adjustment to sharing attention with his baby brother, Remy. It tugs at my heart, making me wonder if it’s because I didn’t breastfeed him as long, and now, with divided attention, he’s missing being babied.

    But last night was sweet. After picking up the kids, I listened to my audiobook while loading the dishwasher and setting up for dinner. My husband cooked sliders later, but I prepped everything so he could work his culinary magic exactly how he likes.

    Teddy and I had our little routine—letting the dogs out, tending to the chickens. He adores helping out by scattering the corn seed mix. Meanwhile, Remy was napping peacefully in his bassinet, giving Teddy and me some quality time. We played, cleaned up his playpen (because why wouldn’t he toss all his toys out?), and soon, Dad was home.

    As my husband cooked, I fed Remy, who is still breastfeeding, and then it was dinnertime. Interestingly, Ted insists on eating only from my plate. Identical food on his plate just isn’t the same unless it’s on mine!

    Later, we headed upstairs where I put on my current audiobook, “Regretting You” by Colleen Hoover, which I highly recommend. Meanwhile, Teddy was busy bringing over his books and jumping on his little trampoline. He even attempted to fold clothes with me but decided it was too much effort for a one-and-three-quarter-year-old. Instead, he grabbed his Minky Couture blanket, as hefty as a weighted one, tossed his pillow into the trampoline, then changed his mind and opted for a laundry basket by the window.

    Watching him climb into the basket with his blanket, looking oh-so-relaxed and flipping through Dr. Seuss’s “The Foot Book” was adorable. All the while, Remy was downstairs giving my husband a run for his money. I resisted the urge to intervene, choosing to let my husband handle Remi and bond with our youngest. I’ve learned that sometimes the best way to let my husband be involved and understand what I’m handling is to let him dive in, even if it’s not exactly how I’d do it.

    We mothers often try to be superwoman, juggling everything, but part of the journey is allowing ourselves to step back and let others step in. And with that little realization, I hope you all have a great day!

  • Friendships as a Mom

    One of the toughest parts about becoming a mother has been feeling disconnected from the friends I had and trying to maintain or even make new connections. It’s as if the free time I once had has vanished, and I find myself treading water in an ocean with no island in sight. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t regret it for a second. I adore my husband and my little boys and the life path we’re on. But sometimes, I daydream about the old days.

    Back then, I could spontaneously ride my bike, the wind in my hair, or hop in the car to visit a friend hours away, free from schedules and responsibilities. Now, spontaneity involves calculating nap times, considering whether to bring my pump, and wondering if I’ll be back in time to breastfeed. It’s a juggling act of epic proportions, compounded by the unpredictability of one child deciding nap time is merely a myth while the other scoffs at routine, leaving me with two energizer bunnies come bedtime.

    Gone are the days when my biggest worries were what to wear, when to hit the gym, or if brunch was on the horizon. Honestly, I can’t recall my last brunch—it feels like ages ago. I know life will shift again, but for now, I reminisce and wish my single friends understood how much I miss them. Sometimes it feels like they’re drifting away because our lifestyles are so different now. They remember the old, carefree me, but that version hasn’t been around for over five years, and I know I’m not going back there.

    So here I am, pondering how to meet in the middle without losing the friendships I cherish. I suppose that’s one of the tragedies of getting older—friendships evolve, and you realize some people are in your life for a reason or a season. It’s about finding new ways to keep those connections alive, even when life pulls us in different directions.

  • Breastfeeding: Part 2

    Has anyone else ever had one of those “oops” moments that makes you question your life choices? Like today, when I remembered everything—except the actual pump parts needed to, you know, pump. Cue the “no use crying over spilled milk” mantra—at least metaphorically for now, because I’m dodging a literal milk flood under this blazer, which, thank goodness, I thought to wear today. Blazers: not just for looking professional, but also for camouflaging milk stains!

    Nobody truly prepares you for the multi-level strategy game that is breastfeeding. It’s like going back to the days when you’d accidentally bleed through your clothes during your period, except now, instead of your butt being the center of attention, it’s those conspicuous milk stains front and center. Ah, the joys of motherhood!

    Today’s fashion mishap left my shirt looking like a modern art piece, luckily hidden beneath my trusty blazer. I snapped a pic, possibly destined for the “Moms of the Year” album, but first, I’m making a beeline home to grab my forgotten equipment, return to work, and attempt to pump on the go. Yes, that’s my current definition of multitasking.

    This incident just adds to my list of reasons why I dream of a remote job. Being a first-time mom trying to juggle breastfeeding in the mix of office life is like competing in an endurance race you never actually signed up for. When you’re trying to maintain a semblance of your pre-kid life while avoiding the Motherhood Olympics hurdles, remote work seems like a golden ticket. Here’s to making it through the day, one milk-stain-free step at a time!

  • Potty training chronicles:Part 2

    We’re now about three weeks into the wonderful world of potty training with Teddy. Let me tell you, it’s a rollercoaster ride of high-fives and facepalms! We’ve had some glorious successes, like those golden moments when poop actually lands in the toilet. And we’ve officially banished pee from the carpet realm, which feels like a victory almost as monumental as landing on the moon.

    It’s funny—cleaning up after Teddy sometimes feels like puppy training, though I assure you, there’s no nose-rubbing involved! Instead, it’s more of an “Oh no!” followed by a gentle sprint to the bathroom. I strive for zen-like expressions, trying not to let my face give away the inner, “Really? Again?” It’s like acting 101, where your face must radiate, “I’m proud of you!” even if internally you’re finding your inner calm.

    Yesterday was a classic “I refuse to acknowledge the toilet exists” kind of day for Teddy. My mom—bless her heart—attempted the underwear negotiations, but eventually, diapers won that round. In a bid to turn the tides, I got him a nifty little watch that times his potty breaks. Instagram influencers make it look so easy with their three-day potty training miracles, all happy snaps and triumphant smiles. Meanwhile, behind the scenes, they skip the episodes of toilet-rebellion and accidental mom-soakings.

    Our dogs have hilariously become involved in the process, tailing Teddy like potty-training sentinels and giving me the heads up when a “situation” is about to unfold. It’s like a family potty patrol!

    As for seeing the pot of gold at the end of the potty-training rainbow, I’m mentally preparing for at least another week or two on this journey. If any of you seasoned moms have pearls of wisdom to share, please do! I gave the “Potty Train Your Toddler in Three Days” manual a whirl, and it’s full of great advice, but as a working mom, I’m juggling a circus. My mom, who’s a rockstar, has her hands full with my dad, my other son, and her own doggo crew. While she is absolutely incredible, any tips or tricks would be a godsend. Here’s to conquering the potty frontier, one day at a time!

  • In Remembrance of Chuck

    Yesterday was a series of unfortunate events with a deceptively smooth beginning. After work, I decided to take my sons to the playground, and everything was sunshine and rainbows—almost literally, since the weather was cool enough to keep us out there for a whole hour. Ted, my little daredevil, bravely climbed up the big kid play set. He sat down at the top of the slide and started scooting down, but when he was a quarter of the way through, fear kicked in, and he scrambled back to the top. Proud mom moment: he conquered his Everest solo!

    We had the playground to ourselves, making it a run-and-follow fiesta for Ted, with his brother and me trailing behind in the stroller. We eventually headed home, unloaded the chaos, and released the dogs from their kennels. They lined up at the back door like a canine NASCAR race was about to start. When I opened it, Raya and Arya sprinted straight for our resident troublemaker, Frankie boy. Thinking I should referee whatever mischief was brewing, I followed outside.

    That’s when tragedy struck. I had forgotten that I left the chickens out to graze. And just like that, my earlier high deflated faster than a budget balloon at a birthday party. The rooster, Chuck, began flapping his wings protectively as his hens congregated near the gate. But poor Chuck never stood a chance. Frankie, our Staffordshire Terrier, leaped on him, feathers flying everywhere like the world’s saddest pillow fight. Chuck squawked, I screamed, and feathers fluttered as I tried to corral the dogs.

    Somehow, I managed to usher all the dogs inside except for Frank and Arya, who galloped to the far side of the yard. Chuck dangled from Frank’s mouth like a feathered scarf, and finally, with my frantic yells, they came inside. When I walked over to Chuck, I found only a heap of feathers and his lifeless body. Tears flowed unbidden as I stood in shock.

    Don’t get me wrong, Chuck was a bit of a jerk, but no one deserves an exit like that. Thankfully, my husband arrived just in time. He handled Chuck’s remains while I rounded up the hens and tended to my two screaming children inside. This one’s in memory of Chuck, the not-so-gentle rooster. Let’s hope today is kinder to our feathered friends.

  • Grocery Adventures

    Most weeks, my husband and I have grocery hauls down to a fine art, but this week, the universe had other plans. With a weekend that felt like a kid-fueled circus, we bravely attempted a grocery run on a workday. After clocking out, my husband and I found our stomachs growling, so we made a pit stop for dinner before heading to Lowe’s grocery store.

    Dinner was a theatrical masterpiece starring Ted, who decided it was a Michelin-star experience to lick butter off bread and suck dipping sauce off fries, leaving a smashed potato crime scene in his wake. And let’s not forget the grand finale—Ted belting out a scream concert every time Dad dared check his phone.

    Then there was Remy, who, after a milk explosion on my shoulder, voiced his displeasure loudly every time I tried to set him in his car seat. So, I surrendered to the chaos and embraced the art of eating with one hand.

    As we finally retreated to the car, Ted delivered a blowout—of the aromatic variety. Cue a sprint to the store entrance with the little one strapped to my chest and a quick game of parental tag initiating between my husband and me. But the punchline? The men’s room was undergoing divine intervention, aka cleaning. My husband, with a grin, said, “I guess it’s God’s will,” nearly causing my demise.

    So, I took the reins, adeptly changing Ted’s diaper with Remy still doing his best opera singer impression strapped to my chest. Once the scene was cleaned up, Ted joyfully hopped into one of the little car grocery carts, and our shopping expedition became surprisingly smooth.

    Feeling victorious, we waltzed back to the car as if we’d conquered Everest, only to glance at the time and—bam—realize it was already 7:30! Seriously, how do the days zoom by faster than a toddler when you’re trying to catch them?

  • Brain Overload

    I’m not sure if anyone else experiences this, but I think my brain runs on overload 24/7. It’s as if my dreams are blueprints for the next day’s chaos. I catch myself sounding like my mom: “Don’t forget tomorrow is trash day,” “Did you remember to feed Eufy?” “We should bring that leftover chicken noodle soup to work for lunch.” Oh, and yes, I sometimes refer to myself as “we.”

    You’d think it’s because I just had a baby, and everyone says your memory takes a dive post-kids, but let’s be real—I’ve been this way even before the little ones came along. Part of me wonders if I should get tested for ADHD, while the other half insists, “Don’t you dare! You need this overactive brain to juggle all the ridiculous tasks you put in your job jars.”

    And don’t get me started on the superpowers of hearing and smelling everything now. I used to scoff at parents who claimed that, but there I was last night, wide awake because Toddler Ted was snoring like a freight train. Picture me lurking in the dark with one of those booger-sucking contraptions, waiting for him to open his eyes so I could make my booger-extraction pitch.

    He finally woke up this morning, and I seized the opportunity—only to be met with a look that screamed, “Crazy lady, get the heck away from my nose!”

    And here I am, still in my pajamas, contemplating whether anyone else lives in a world this bizarre. Naturally, I decided to share it with the internet. So, here are my random morning musings, delivered straight from my brain for your amusement. Enjoy!

  • Work life balance

    So, for those of you who don’t know, I wear a few hats: full-time logistics analyst, mom of two, and MBA student currently on a two-week break. Consider it my gift to my sanity!

    No one tells you that reentering the workforce after kids is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I relish the escape from my adorable tornadoes at home, even if admitting that feels as scandalous as a squirrel crashing a fancy tea party. Yes, having adult conversations that don’t involve fictional blue trains is a joy, although the mom guilt sometimes hits harder than a rogue LEGO underfoot.

    When I return home, it’s like a reunion scene from a rom-com—except with more chaos and less saxophone music. That said, there are days when I fantasize about being a stay-at-home mom who schedules enriching activities like reading, playtime, and educational field trips with military precision.

    Alas, my family must endure my love for structure. My husband, although occasionally eye-rolling at my scheduling fervor, often asks for the day’s itinerary as if I’m the household cruise director.

    One thing I focus on is ditching the phone after work. Once home, I dive into floor-time gibberish with Remy and navigate imaginary terrains with Ted’s cars. Ted has recently developed an addiction to climbing on my back while I gallop around the house like a caffeine-fueled pony, a delightful, if exhausting, ritual.

    Most days, my mom guilt frowns upon laziness, thanks in part to those social media posts that suggest if you’re not crafting a DIY spaceship out of recycled bottles, you’re failing as a parent. But hey, moms, it’s okay not to be okay. If you’re giving all you’ve got, your kids notice more than you realize. So cut yourself some slack—we’re human, after all, and parenting is one of those “learn-on-the-job” gigs. And really, aren’t we all first-time moms with each new adventure?

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some spine realignment to do before Ted demands another round of ‘Mommy Horsey.’