Mom Mode After the Holidays: Resetting the House & the Nervous System

Hey hey everyone! It's Sunday, a day of rest and reset. A day for reflection if you will. But not for me and unfortunately not in this house. See after the holidays and a break from school, the house always tells on us. Items are everywhere, dishes are never ending, and our homes look like battle zones we barely survived. 

Extra noise, Extra mess, Extra stuff that doesn’t quite belong anywhere at the moment. The routines are off, the sleep is weird, and everyone’s nervous system feels like it’s been run through a blender along with our sanity. Everyone seems a little short tempered, no one really wants to do anything, and yet the mess grows unprompted. 

So before I reset the house, I reset myself. No amount of organizing works if everyone is still dysregulated from the almost two-ish weeks of chaos. And let's face a blinding fact here… If you have children still in your home that you can’t send outside, running behind you playing wrecking ball to everything you just managed to get clean… you're going to be pulling your damn hair out.

For me, the post-holiday reset isn’t about deep cleaning or reinventing systems. It’s about reducing stimulation. Fewer decisions. Fewer piles. Fewer expectations stacked on top of already-tired people. And let's not forget containment. Because as long as the mess is contained to that one room (or at least the rooms the mess belongs to) it's a whole lot easier to deal with it.

Tomorrow, once the gremlin is on the bus and I have sat in the silence that is the regaining of my salinity, I will start small. Trash out. Dishes caught up. One surface cleared at a time. Not because the house needs to look perfect—but because visual calm helps bodies settle. Then I reset the rhythms.

Bedtimes inch back into place. Meals get simpler. We go back to what works instead of what looks good online. Because let's face it, what people try to sell us online is probably hours of cleaning packaged into a 60 second video. Predictability is grounding, especially for kids—and especially after weeks of disruption. 

I’m also lowering the bar for myself. Not to be lazy, but to keep a larger chunk of my salinity in place every day. With all the goals that I have set out for myself in 2026, timing is what’s going to keep me on track with a full head of steem. No jumping in guns blazing and then crying in the shower in a week or three when shit doesn’t start to pan out. No. No. HELL NO. Life is one thing at a time.

This isn’t the week for ambitious goals or elaborate plans. It’s a week for nervous system repair. For noticing who’s overwhelmed. For choosing connection over productivity when possible. And setting the foundation. Because we all know a weak foundation will have a house crumbling into the yard before you can say don’t do it. Writing, housework, and just general life is no different.

A regulated parent sets the tone, even when things aren’t ideal. So, I will be taking breaks when I need them, stepping outside, and breathing. I will remind myself that recovery isn’t laziness—it’s maintenance. And if I don’t put my mask on first, I can’t help those around me. (Which will be the hardest lesson of all.)

The house will reset in layers and so will we. What matters most isn’t how fast everything gets back to normal—it’s how we get there. And for a lot of us that’s basically out here doing it on our own, I see you. You’re doing an amazing job whether you know it or not. Shits hard sometimes, but we have to keep our feet moving. 

So, what’s your first call to action once the littles are back to school this season? What are some of your goals going into this week? Have you checked on your laundry? Leave me a comment below and lets talk about it.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

The Things My Kids Teach Me About Resilience

I’ve learned more about resilience from my child than from any self-help book, podcast, or motivational speaker. Honestly, half the time I think I’m the one teaching him how to handle the world, when in reality he’s teaching me.

Kids bounce back in ways adults forget how to. They fall down, they get up. They have meltdowns, then five minutes later they’re asking for a snack like nothing happened. They don’t carry grudges the way we do. They don’t spend hours replaying a mistake until it eats them alive. They just…move forward.

Watching my son face challenges, especially the ones that feel unfair, the ones that most adults would crumble under, reminds me of what real strength looks like. He doesn’t stop showing up just because it’s hard. He doesn’t stop smiling, laughing, or being himself. He adapts. He finds new ways to make it through. Especially, since he doesn’t see the world like we see the world. 

And every time I think I can’t handle one more thing, I remember: there are two little eyes watching what I do, so he knows what to do. If I’m angry, he’s angry. If I’m okay, he’s okay. Kids feed off of us the same way a lot of us learned to read a room before we learned to read a book. 

Resilience isn’t about never breaking. It’s about breaking and then piecing yourself back together anyway. It’s about finding joy in the middle of the mess. It’s about having the courage to try again even when yesterday knocked you flat on your ass. It’s also remembering the reward of fighting through when it looks like shit isn’t ever going to change.

My kid reminds me of that every single day. He shows me that it’s okay to be scared, frustrated, or exhausted, and it’s also okay to keep going anyway.

So when I feel like giving up, I think about him. The way he faces every obstacle head-on, even the invisible ones. The way he refuses to let struggle define him. The way he keeps moving forward with a strength that humbles me. Because if he can do it, then so can I.

Weekly Reflection: Finding Strength in Chaos

This week has been a whirlwind both in life and on the page. From turning real-life chaos into fictional drama, to trying to wrestle characters into the stories I thought I wanted to tell, to learning how to step back and give myself a break, and finally, to seeing resilience in the smallest lessons from my kid. I’ve been reminded of one constant: strength often shows up in the mess.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when the world doesn’t slow down. It’s easy to feel guilty for taking a moment for yourself. It’s easy to feel like you’re losing control. But if there’s one thing this week has taught me, it’s that chaos doesn’t have to break you. It can teach you, fuel you, and even inspire you.

Through the mess, through the frustration, through the exhaustion, I’ve learned that resilience isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, adapting, and finding joy and purpose even when the storm is raging. My stories, my characters, and my little Chaos Gremlin remind me of this every day. And as I close this week, I carry that lesson forward: I can navigate the chaos, write the wounds, and still find the beauty in it all. Because when push comes to shove, things are going to happen whether you’re ready or not.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

Mom. Writer. Therapist. Taxi. Repeat.

It’s FRIDAY! How was everyone’s week? Mine was about the same as usual with a balance of being present for my kiddo and trying to keep all the chainsaws in the air. I will say it's exhausting having to be everything for everyone, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t give me purpose. 

Mom mode is making sure Gremlin has all his needs met while also advocating for him. That’s not just advocating for him at school, with doctors and specialists, and people that don’t fully understand what a Non Verbal Autistic child looks/ acts like. It’s standing up to people that should also love and protect him that see him as a problem or puzzle to fix/ solve. Sometimes the outside world isn’t as cruel as the actual family. Which leads into protecting your peace and that of your child.  

Therapist and sounding board, for those around me, gives insight into situations that I might not ever experience. Which falls into the “more you know the more you can help” category. This also opens up the line of communication, where people know they can text or call and I’ll be there. 

For example: I have friends, or (as I like to explain) chosen family all over the United States. This one person lives in the NJ. Every time they can’t figure out a car problem, they contact me. 9/10 times I know the answer or can figure it out. This last weekend, I walked them through replacing an alternator. Stayed on Video chat until they were squared away. My other bestie lives in Indiana. I’m already trying to figure out the best way to get up to her to get her truck back on the road. As I’ve already made that 7.5 hour run to do it once before. And these are just a few examples.  

When it comes to my husband, well I hear every little thing about a company I haven’t worked for since November 1st 2021. He still works there on second shift. Which means every damn conversation is about supervisors, workplace politics, and how they weren’t working this weekend and now they are working this weekend. Which lands on the will you please talk about something that matters but in the end to him it all matters.

Taxi… This isn’t as much as it used to be, but we were without a car there for a bit. Wednesdays and Thursdays are the only time I really leave the house right now. Gremlins speech therapy and bills. And I will say it's rather nice. Even though the enclosure of my office feels more like an exhibit than a working environment. Probably because I put my feet on the floor and walked 20 steps to the bathroom, 10 back to the kitchen to grab my drink, and 10 to my office chair. Come to think of it, taxi was a little more fun than this. LMAO.

And Last but never least, Writer. This is the hard part. This is the delicate balancing act between character and reality. Being present for those around me and off creating a world so few can see as vividly as I can. Thousands of interruptions and losing a train of thought, all to compete with deadlines that are self imposed. Which goes along with the post from either yesterday or the day before. 

For a lot of writers, this is a side gig. Still very passionate about the work but it doesn't pay the bills. Me… Writing is my career. Royalties from Destined for More and Crossroads are what I have outside my husband. So bad months of sales could be the difference in Christmas money and trying to combat rising costs. 

These are the thoughts that plague my brain on a the daily. Keeping everything perfectly spinning without dropping. What is your matrix? How do you look at your efforts? I know I look at each thing, smile, and keep pushing forward.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble

What I Learned from My Kid This Week: First full week.

    It’s Friday, y’all! And I’ll say it's been one hell of a week. Gremlin just completed his first full week back. And while I’m always worried about him being out of my sight, something has kinda changed for both of us this year. I don’t know if it's because he’s been in the same school since kindergarten or maybe even because, during the teacher swap, he got the same amazing teacher he already had. Whatever it happens to be, has us settling into the old routine like seasoned pros around here. 
There are some things I have learned from him so far this school year.
Lesson #1: The backpack is a black hole.
    Every day, I unzip it expecting to find homework or maybe a snack wrapper. Instead, I find mystery objects that I’m not really sure anyone knew were there. For example: a rock…. It wasn’t a big rock. But when I pulled it out of his backpack, he started going 90 to nothing jabbering. So “very important” rock. 
Lesson #2: Routine is a loose suggestion.
    If you have been around for a minute, you know the Gremlin has a war on sleep. Whether that be on school days or not. So, we do our best to set him up for success. Clothes are laid out each night, shoes and backpack are together in his room, and everything is picture perfect for hubby to handle the morning and put him on the bus. Funny how this is where we start the week. 
    By Wednesday into Thursday, Ares is waking up fresh as a Daisy, while we are running around like chickens with no heads missing a foot. Can’t find any of his new shirt, his new jeans have a mystery stain by the ankle, he is refusing everything but dunken sticks for breakfast, and he had to wear a pair of my husband's socks. Why cause no one knows where the 40 (not even joking) pairs of his are.
Lesson #3: Kids are better at boundaries than we are.
    Gremlin has no problem indicating, “I’m tired” or just “done” for the day. He comes home might or might not have a snack. Has me put on his movie. Then climbs into bed with the covers thrown over his head. This is the “do not talk to me”, “look at me”, or “try to engage” unless you want the wrath of a 4’6” titan. There is a hell of a lot of FAFO in that child. 
    Meanwhile, I’m over here ignoring my own exhaustion because laundry doesn’t fold itself. I’m starting to think maybe he’s got it figured out.
Lesson #4: Even little victories count.
    We had smiley faces all week. Which means he did what he was told, followed directions, and didn’t have a meltdown. WIN across the board. And Yes, I did get him ice cream for when he gets up from his nap.
    The truth is, sending your kid back to school isn’t just about them learning. It’s about us learning too. To adapt, to let go, to embrace the chaos, and maybe even take a break when we need it. Some of these kiddos, like mine, have no room for BS. Yes, due to the nature of his nonverbal, we struggle bus it a lot of days. But then there are days when things just click. 
    So, here’s to week one. We survived… and we’ll do it all again Monday. Hopefully, with a better game plan and some extra minutes of sleep. Have a great weekend guys. See you on the show tomorrow night on Twitch. 7c/8e Hold My Pen Promptcast.
Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

We Don’t Do Quiet in This House (And That’s Okay)

Happy Friday Everyone. Welcome to the latest installment of Mom Mode: Engaged. How was our week? Did we make it through relatively unscathed? How are we currently coping with all the new changes popping up like a really bad game of Wack a mole? I don’t know about y’all but I’m holding on like a hat in a windstorm… Barely.

Let me paint you a picture of how my last 48 hours have gone shall we. Started out with first my male cat escaping the confines of his condo and running outside. Which resulted in hubby finding him when he got home and bringing him back in. I don’t know what happened in the three hours he wasn’t in the house, but Nicky wasn’t doing good the next morning. After some frantic Googling, phone calls, and gut-wrenching stares at my bank account, we had to make the decision to let him go to the rainbow bridge. RIP, Nicky. May your next life have fewer pitfalls and more sunshine.

That was the mere drop in the bucket to the shit storm I have already been dealing with. See right before my mother got hurt in 2023, we bought a car. Which died last year after mom did. Raven still lives in the driveway until I can figure out if I can fix her or not. Hard to tell but here we are. So, we start hunting around for vehicles… Let's just say not an easy task when you have no way to go look at them. 

So, after failed promises, Hubby reaches out to a co-worker. We end up with a 02 Ford Focus. Low miles, minor damage, but nothing I can’t deal with. Was told nothing was mechanically wrong with it but struts. BOY was I fucking lied to. But that’s a story for another time. Any who…. Ever since the day we bought this car there has been a miss, backfire, and you have to watch her because she will pull power and cut out at any moment. Mostly while sitting at a light or having to slow down to nearly a stop. Been switching parts here and there as I could afford it. 

Which brings us to last week, and hubby brought the car by the Parts house to get the engine light checked… again. Haven’t been up that way in a minute to have it done myself so hence it took longer than needed to be handled. 

See, our lovely four-cylinder chaos machine decided it was done pretending the check engine light was just a suggestion and started not letting me take off without playing with the gas pedal to find that sweet spot. ON Scanner: Comes back to a misfire on cylinder 4. Cool. I knew how to handle that already. Been down this road before when it came back to a misfire on cylinder 2, replaced plugs a month or so back. I thought we were safe or would be good for a little bit. Turns out, the real culprit was the coil pack (or ignition coil for the mechanics out there). Because while it was on the reader, it started jumping on the misfire. Of course it was. Life loves a good plot twist.

Pro tip: If you have a misfire on 1 and it jumps to a misfire on 3 or 2 and jumps to 4 that is your coil pack tattling on itself when it comes to a 4 cylinder. Pretty much the same with a 6 but you might have multiple coil packs to keep an eye on. Replace plugs, wires, and coil pack that way you hit the trifecta.

Any who… we order the parts early in the week. So, they would come in yesterday for me to work on the car today while hubby and Gremlin were asleep. Hubby goes to pick up the parts on his way to work after they came in. Next plot twist: right coil, wrong wires. Because why in the hell not? My car is one of three different builds from that model year, because the engineers clearly wanted to keep us humble and guessing. So, I'm like fuck it. I will work with what I got and wait on the rest.

Gremlin decided to stay up till nearly 3:30ish am. So, I didn’t get hardly shit for sleep. Kind of used to and it is what it is. So, not in a great mood, everyone still sleeping, and humidity that clings to you like regret and bad decisions later, I’m out the door to the thankfully shady driveway to fix said car.

It's 89 degrees outside with a real feel of 101, and I'm out there trying to do mechanical triage while the car stares back like, “You sure about this?” The bolts? Star bits, not the 7mm from the video. (Yes, I watched YouTube to make sure there weren’t going to be any surprises.) Which clearly didn’t matter because as it turns out, surprise is my car’s love language. Nothing can be easy. Got the first two off with no problem, after finding the star bit screwdriver. Broke one off. Seized another. I had to wake Robby, search for my bits. We definitely own but the garage and house swear they’ve never seen before.

Long story short: the damn thing is fixed. Johnny 5 lives. No more stalling. She takes off like a bat out of hell now. And yet when I come back inside, sweat-drenched and victorious, expecting maybe a fraction of a moment. A flicker of peace. A cold drink and a pat on the back.

Instead? Gremlin is doing his best impression of a DJ with ADHD, switching movies every ten minutes and treating the living room like a rave. Hubby? Sitting at the table. Like it’s any other Friday. And me? Trying to write this blog post with my brain melting and my patience curled up under the couch somewhere whispering, “Nope, you can’t make me.”

But here's the thing: We don’t do quiet in this house. We do chaos. We do duct tape and sarcasm, mixed with a hell of a lot of dark humor. We do “figure it out because nobody else will.” We do screaming non-verbal 9-year-old and partners who think "being helpful" means moral support from a seated position and complaining every 5 damn minutes about something they could have easily done themselves. 

We do misfiring engines, spark chasing, star bolts, where regulars should be, busted coil packs and failing CV axels to finally, finally have a working car, I can drive to the store without worrying about getting into an accident. If that’s not a win in the middle of this beautiful mess, I don’t know what is.

So no, today wasn’t peaceful. But it never really is. It’s loud. It was lived. And maybe, just maybe... that’s enough.

Therefore, when you are ready to pull your hair out, because let's face facts we all get to that point, realize the messy bits is what make your life unique. Whether that chaos is in your life, stories, or current situation, take a deep breath and remember shit happens. We deal with it, and tomorrow isn’t promised for any of us. 

Now go and enjoy your weekend. Drop some comments on what you dealt with this week and possible plans for the weekend. I have to get my writing assignment done for the Saturday Night Show on Twitch: Hold My Pen Promptcast. So, in the words of Pinky and the Brain, I’m going to try to take over the world, one paragraph at a time. Peace and Love. Stay hydrated. And Remember Be Brave Be Bold BUT Always Stay Humble.

Catch you guys on Monday.

Still Here, Still Standing: Notes from the Edge of Burnout

Hey Peps. It’s Friday and we made it. But somewhere between bedtimes, meltdowns, and breakdown, I lost track of time…. Again.

    This week started like every other. Guilt raising its ugly ass head, because nothing substantial got done over the weekend. And what did get done well let's just say it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in comparison. Everything from being tricked into falling asleep early (thanks, Gremlin), only to be shocked wide awake by 1:30 a.m. with a very awake, very non-verbal 9-year-old bouncing off the walls like he’s gearing up for a rave. 

I’ve felt like I’ve been rolled over, backed up, and someone hit the gas again. Not in one giant, dramatic collapse (this isn’t the movies), but in the small, steady ways that chip away at you. The kind of tiredness and pure exhaustion that doesn’t go away with sleep. The kind of heavy that isn’t about how much you're carrying, but how long you’ve been carrying it.

So, I sat there, sipping lukewarm coffee in the quiet hours of the morning after my husband made it home, wondering if this was just a bad dream or the new normal. Spoiler: it’s both. Caretaking. Parenting. Surviving. Hustling for peace and purpose between bills, speech therapy sessions, and whatever chaos the day decides to throw at me next. There’s a rhythm to it now. Part muscle memory, part sheer will power disguised as having all my ducks in a row. And honestly? Sometimes that scares me more than the chaos, because no one in their right mind should think this is just another day in paradise. 

But here’s the thing: I’m still here. Still pushing forward like the little engine that could because in all due respect this is my life. 

Parenting a neurodivergent child isn’t just a full-time job. No, it’s a marathon in the dark with no map, no water breaks, and a finish line that keeps moving. Gremlin, as he will be referred to for obvious reasons, is almost ten. The switch flipped in him, where he went from speaking in complete sentences, feeding himself, and developmentally head, when he was between 18 months and 2 years old. And after fighting tooth and nail, finally got his diagnosis right before he turned 5. 

He’s now nearly my size. He can’t always tell me what’s wrong, but his frustration is loud and clear even if his wants and needs currently aren’t. He doesn’t sleep well, and neither do I. There are moments when I look at him and wonder how much longer I can lift him, how many more nights my body will bend without breaking. And yet… here we are. Because when push comes to shove, he’s the reason I’m still putting two feet on the floor every damn morning.

Still showing up for my son, even when words don’t come easy and meltdowns shake the walls. Still holding the line when the world is too loud for both of us, and there is no real help in sight. Still writing. Still working. Still pushing through the haze to find little pockets of joy.

Like the way he dances to music when he thinks I’m not watching. The well-timed meme or video that hits way too close to home. The quiet moments when the coffee is still hot and the world is, just for a second, still.

Burnout is real and has many layers. But so does resilience. 

Burnout isn’t just about being tired. It's that feeling of being hollowed out like a pumpkin. Like you’re going through the motions while the core of you has quietly gone offline, and you hope will eventually reboot. It's cooking meals while holding back tears. It’s smiling at your kid while secretly wondering who’s going to take care of you when you finally drop.

I don’t always talk about what it was like being a caretaker for both my mom and my son. Mainly because it’s a shit show that I’m still dealing with, even though mom is gone. Or about losing a job because I stood by my principles, or about living in a house that isn’t mine, because life didn’t go the way I planned. For those that wish to know. When my mom died last year, I retained the house that was hers and I have lived in for over 10 years. 

But here is the real kick in the shorts, I carry it. All of it. And most days, I carry it alone. I carry the responsibility of a human being, a wife, a mother, a grieving daughter, a writer, author, friend, you name it, here the fuck I am juggling chainsaws like it's just another day. The problem with that is very few people know I’m struggling to smile through the pain, through the meltdowns and exhaustion, through the missed deadlines and beating myself up over it all. And the ones that do know and have sat with me while I've fallen apart… may the universe bless you every day because I know I’m not easy to deal with. 

You're probably asking yourself the same thing I do every day. With all the shit, how do I keep moving forward when the whole damn world seems to be throwing me for a damn loop. What keeps me going is simple or at least simple to me. Getting lost in my playlist, even when the song's meanings are sometimes too much to bear. The Gremlin dancing around his room with happy squeals or the mess he makes. Yes, even when I’ve had the absolute limit with him and the never-ending parade of toys, I remember he’s only this age and size for a short amount of time, and before I can blink it’ll be gone. Lastly, the Hey, Jules from everyone in my life. From cooking to car repairs, from heartache to plot points, and the “hey, I've had one hell of a day. Can you just sit here so I'm not alone?” 

I suit up, show up usually with a Red Bull in hand, and get ready to do what I need to do. Even if it’s pure spite I put one foot in front of the other. Cause let’s be real right now, sometimes all we have is spite, rage, and the heart we wish we could turn off from time to time. We don’t though. We keep pushing forward, usually dragging someone else kicking and screaming with us. It’s called showing up and showing out. Most of the time, it’s just that I don’t know how to stop. I refuse to lay down the sword and I will go down hard. Even when I want to quit, stop or give up... I dust off, stand back up, and put my shoulder into it like any good lineman would.

So… Even through the noise, chaos, and characters that now want to shut up when it's finally their turn to sound off… I’M Still Here, Still Standing, Still Digging My heels in not giving up much ground. And If I can… SO CAN YOU. Because it's not about who finished first. It's about saying you're not going to fucking break me.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I don’t know what you’re carrying, but I hope you give yourself credit for the weight of it. For how far you’ve come. I’m not writing from a place of resolution, because is anything really every resolved? This isn’t the summit of the mountaintop. This is the messy middle. But I’m here. And so are you.

We’re still here. Still standing. Even if it’s on one leg, with eye bags and an empty coffee pot. That counts for more than anyone gives us credit for. We might be down, but we are never out until we refuse to get our asses back up.

SO, Weekend Vibes & What's Ahead for this chaos momma. I’m keeping it simple this weekend. Nothing too ambitious, but a few things on the list:

Promptcast Saturday Night on Twitch. (because we need the good kind of shock and awe)

Catching up on Sweet Magnolia (because yes, I need that chaos that isn’t mine for once)

Some deep cleaning (the kind where you open a drawer and wonder if it’s a time capsule or the missing paperwork for the appliances you no longer own.)

Writing time, if the universe and or Gremlin allows

Finally taking the first stab at organizing my office… maybe

It’s not glamorous, but it’s movement. And for now, that’s enough.

To everyone else towing the edge of burnout like a dead car you should have left on the side of the road… you’re not alone. Even if the world doesn’t see how hard you’re fighting just to stand up every day… I see you. And I’m right here with you. Still here. Still standing. Still fighting. We Got this. Now go do the damn thing, and I’ll catch you Monday with the next installment of Chaos from the Keyboard.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

Summer Break is Kicking My Ass (and I’m the Grown-Up)

Good Morning my fellow peeps. Let me paint you a picture of my morning, because it's too out there in left field not to share. 

It’s mid-July. We are three weeks from School registration and just over three and a half weeks until the chaos gremlin, I call my child, returns. The house looks like a tornado hit it twice. Everything I did yesterday has been dismantled before my feet hit the floor. The kid is running his own personal water park out of my bathroom tub. He’s contained and at least the water isn’t all over the bathroom…. YET…. I’m sitting here with a Red Bull and Cigarette wondering if I have the energy to deal with this shit today. NEWS FLASH: I’m going to go with a NO. 

The Olympics of DVD/ T.V. swaps haven't begun yet and snack demands, which he doesn’t either know or hasn’t realized is in the house, will begin promptly after I shut the water park down along with a fair amount of screaming. I’m three sips into a Watermelon Red Bull trying to remember what the last thing I’ve actually eaten was. Spoiler: It was a Veggie Pizza around 7pm last night. The same pizza I left a little more than half of to find completely gone this morning. (HUSBANDS)

Let's be crystal clear about a few things. Summer breaks used to be this magical thing when we were kids. Popsicles, bike rides, staying up late, sleeping in until 11-12:00 and off we go again. Getting into all kinds of things with God knows who. As long as we were back before the streetlights came on and checked in with at least one of twelve adults that day, we were square. And by check in, we called home and left a message on the answering machine, stopping by Grandpa’s for lunch.

Now? Now it’s an unpaid, unrelenting full-time job where the boss is 9 years old, has zero chill, and apparently doesn’t need sleep like the rest of us. And that’s only if you're a SAHP like me. Some of y’all got it much worse, with having to figure out childcare to keep your kids so you can still work. It isn’t easy for either side of the coin. One side there is no escape, and the other well you have to pay to escape, and that is a not so pretty penny.

Summertime is supposed to be this time for families. It's a time we plan for all the wonderful things we are going to do with our kids to create all the memories. It’s what some of us look forward to every year, just to have that little thing called reality smack you in the face like a hallway bully looking for your lunch or lunch money. 

Everything is expensive. Between gas, logging, and food… you just spent a third to half your budget. Then driving to your destination with everyone screaming. That’s enough to make you rethink your life choices. OH, and let's talk about ticket prices for anywhere you want to go… I didn’t have time to sell a kidney, Sharon. 

I know what a lot of you are going to say “hey certain things are free.” And you're right. The park is free. Most of the splash pads are free. And going to the lake or river is free. You still have to afford at the bare minimum snacks and gas. With this heatwave and never knowing when it is or isn’t gunna rain, we stay home. Where the Laundry is Exploding, the Dishes are Constant, and my Sanity is On life support and waiting for someone to read them last rights.

Meanwhile, I’m still trying to write books, market them, edit chapters, keep a blog alive, and build a damn business. Oh and remember to brush my teeth and not live off caffeine and passive aggressive rage. Some if not most days, I fail spectacularly. But here’s the truth I’ve had to choke down with my lukewarm coffee with the mantra: being overwhelmed doesn’t mean I’m failing. Playing on damn repeat. It means we are doing too damn much without enough backup.

So if you’re like me right now. Juggling kids, house, life, deadlines, and a brain that’s hanging on by a thread. I see you. And I promise you’re not alone. We’re surviving. Some days barely. But it still counts.

You don’t need a cape unless you know where Harry left the invisibility one at. You don’t need to be superhuman, Even Superwoman needed Superman's Soul. You just need to keep going, Shoulders back tits up and a growl that would make your book boyfriend bow.

You got this and even if you don’t. Well, it's fine… everything is fine… the world is on fire,
but it was on fire yesterday so its fucking fine. Breathe. You don’t have to be perfect; you just have to keep them from playing with matches and burning the house down. As long as the house is still standing, you have all kids/ pets accounted for, and no one is bleeding. That's a win.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and stop the 3rd not kid approved movie from starting today and pray there’s enough clean laundry for everyone to wear shorts/pants. Be Kind to yourself. And it is completely acceptable to hide in the laundry room and pretend you have to “FIX” the washer and or dryer.

What’s your summer survival strategy? Drop it in the comments. And if yours involves snacks, caffeine, and hiding in the bathroom for five minutes of peace, same.

Remember Be Brave, Be Bold, but Always Stay Humble.