Just your daily reminder that motherhood is a wild, beautiful mess... and sometimes your shower turns into a toddler-led car wash. Today on the blog: * Me folding laundry while singing and dancing like my sanity depends on it * My toddler joyfully unfolding every piece of it * Bottles, blowouts, and yelling for my husband (who was secretly being a hero…outside...and couldn’t hear me) * A solo shower attempt interrupted by a horrified toddler yelling “MAMA WHY?!”

Ever sprinted through your house at 3 AM, covered in baby poop, while being chased by a very confused dog? No? Just me? In my latest post, I’m sharing a behind-the-scenes look at one particularly glamorous middle-of-the-night blowout, complete with ghost theories, mood lighting, and a feral raccoon. If you’ve ever had a parenting moment that felt like a chaotic comedy sketch…this one’s for you.

Our babies deserve a world where kindness and respect matter, and it starts with the way we raise them today.

As a counselor and a parent, days like this are a powerful reminder of a few important truths: behavior is communication, connection comes before correction, parents are allowed to be touched out, and repair matters more than perfection.

Balancing multiple children means someone has to wait sometimes. It means a child might stay upset longer than we want while we attend to another need. That doesn’t mean we failed. It means we’re human. Emotional regulation isn’t about preventing every meltdown. It’s about repair. It’s about coming back together once we can.

There’s something magical about October, the crisp air, the smell of cinnamon candles, the promise of cozy sweaters and pumpkin everything. But if you’re a parent, you also know this truth: October is the month when every single weekend seems booked solid with something. Fall festivals. Pumpkin patches. Costume parades. School spirit weeks. Trunk-or-treats. Neighborhood hayrides. Apple picking. Pumpkin carving. Bonfires. Fundraisers. Oh, and don’t forget the family phot

As a counselor and a mom, I often remind parents that not every hard moment has to be teachable. Some moments are just survivable. They remind us that persistence, however messy or tired or nonsensical, still counts as progress. And honestly? That’s the kind of resilience that parenting (and life) is really made of.

Sometimes motherhood feels like a balancing act I’ll never master, holding one baby while my other cries, juggling a toddler, and carrying the weight of all the medical “what ifs.” Today I shared my story of parenting twins, managing postpartum anxiety and depression, and learning to show up for my little humans even when I feel stretched thin. The giggles, the cuddles, the small victories, they remind me why I keep going. You are not alone. The “what ifs” are real, the guil

Being the default parent means carrying the invisible to-do list, planning, remembering, and noticing everything that needs to be done, often without acknowledgment. It’s repacking the dishwasher, replacing the toilet paper roll, and managing the household’s mental load. This isn’t about “help,” it’s about true partnership and sharing the responsibility. This post features personal stories and practical tips for communicating with your partner to help balance the mental load.

Parenting twins is wild enough; add in medical unknowns, therapy appointments, and a history of infertility and loss, and the picture gets even more complicated. But as my mom always reminds me, God paints on a bigger canvas than what we see. This post is personal. It’s about grief and gratitude. It’s about the babies we lost and the ones we get to hold. It’s about trusting that even when we can’t see the full picture, it’s still being beautifully painted.

Let’s speak reality: you love your kids. Like, deep, primal, "would step in front of a moving car for them" kind of love. And yet. If one more child slides a sticky hand under the bathroom door while you're trying to pee in peace, you might burst into a slow-motion scream and run off into the woods, or maybe the circus, because you've gotten good at juggling everything! You're not broken. You’re not cold. You're not “bad at this.” You're human.