Lessons from the Minivan

 Giving parenting advice when you don’t have kids is like reading about swimming and becoming a lifeguard without getting in the water. You’ve got to experience the blowout diapers, tantrums, anxiety, kids in your bed, and sleep deprivation. A PhD isn’t enough. Get in the pool! There’s no substitution for life experience.  What you learn in books or even by teaching others doesn’t incorporate the sleeplessness and emotions experienced by parents. Love keeps parents going in this 24/7 decades long job. It’s easy to look in from the outside and judge parents for losing their shit. In a professional environment, we don’t tend to lose our shit because we can take breaks or even quit a paying job. There is no quitting the parenting gig. Unless you’ve slogged through seemingly endless days with your child, been severely sleep deprived, had no time for self care, and can’t even be sick in peace, you can STFU and take a seat. Your degrees can only teach you so much. Many lessons are learned fr

 For too long, I’ve been dictated by someone else’s rules. And I’ve been sad. I’ve been sick. I’ve been lonely. I’ve been resentful.  And I’ve been stuck.  I thought I was doing the right thing. My intentions were pure. I wanted to protect my children from experiencing any hurt in their lives. I wanted to give them the best life ever. I never declined any of their demands. I lost myself trying to achieve the impossible goal of supermom. I was burned out and lost.  I needed to find strength to allow self-love. Disrupting the status quo to make myself a priority is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  I worried so much about doing right by my children that I lost myself. I haven’t done right by me in decades. I over-mommied to the point of self-destruction. I’ve got to make myself a priority or I won’t be able to mommy at all.  You’ve got to rate yourself high or you have nothing to give others. It sounds silly, but I’m living proof that being The Giving Tree isn’t appreciated by anyone. I

This mask thing isn’t all bad. I know it’s annoying, but after almost a year of wearing one during this  pandemic , it’s kinda melded with my face. Now that masks are part of my wardrobe, I no longer have to worry about putting makeup on half of my face to go out in public. I used to be a slave to  lipstick . I own the same color in 45 shades and now wear none of it. I’m richer because I’m not buying a new lipstick I don’t need every month. Once masks aren’t required, I’ll certainly be in debt to MAC and Lancôme once again. I won’t be able to ignore waxing, bleaching, exfoliating, and  tweezing  anymore. Now, I could be sporting a full mustache and goatee, but the Target cameras would never know. I currently look good with only my eyes and hair visible to Target’s giant, concave reflectors. For those who use Botox, you can let those jowls flap freely under the mask and use the money on DoorDash snacks instead. Speaking of snacks, masks hide a multitude of messes. I don’t have to worry

Isolated living within the same village summarizes the motherhood experience for so many. From pregnancy pains to postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety to being housebound with children, we all share similar experiences. Yet, society makes us believe we must keep our anxiety, sadness and frustrations to ourselves. We are groomed to believe that being a mom means looking pulled together and confident instead of the     uncertain and flawed humans we are. The perceived goal is to strive for superhumanness. It’s a recipe for failure and mothers are suffering as a result. Immediately after giving birth to my first child, I felt like I was catapulted onto a mound of diapers and trapped at the top. Prior to childbirth, I never had major surgery. Suddenly, I was expected to recover from a  c-section  at the same time as caring for my newborn. My Lamaze coach told me that having a baby via c-section was a “cop out.” I had difficulty breast-feeding and the lactation consultant made me fe

Let’s talk about  anxiety . Because if I’m being completely honest, anxiety stole all the fucks I had to give. Seriously, in my 23 years of momming, I have NEVER met a woman who didn’t battle anxiety at some point in motherhood. One in nine women suffer from postpartum depression and/or postpartum anxiety. That’s a shit ton of mamas! Hormones, brain chemistry,  sleep deprivation , unbalanced diet, change in identity, caring for a new baby coupled with trying to care for yourself, your partner, your family, and your home are enormous burdens that are glossed over by society. And that’s just the beginning of a mama’s concerns. Why do we allow our precious mothers to suffer in silence?!? We need to share our stories so women know it’s okay to seek medical help. OBGYNs and general practice physicians are knowledgeable about postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety. Please talk to them if you’re not feeling like yourself. Talk to them even if you  are  feeling like yourself. We need to

The uncertainty is weighing heavily on all of us. Unable to plan the school year as usual, we feel like are drowning in shifting sands. Without school as the center of our families’ lives, we feel lost. After all, schools are one of the cornerstones of modern society. But learning doesn’t simply exist in a building.  And community ties flourish beyond elementary, middle, or high school properties.  As the pandemic drags on, it’s clear that we must change our perspective. We cannot bend COVID-19 to our will, but we can adapt to the new normal that’s been thrust upon us.  Throughout history, humans have adapted and evolved with change. Just a short time ago, we had telephones tethered to the wall which were shared by everyone. Now, people have their own personal phones. Sharing a phone line is unheard of. We used to have one room schoolhouses. We evolved beyond that to schools divided into classrooms according to children’s ages.  A pandemic changes the the paradigm yet again.  Schedules