We’re all guilty of it (and if you’re not, maybe keep scrolling and keep that to yourself). Taking a photo of our kids, our house, our perfect Christmas tree – and cropping out the basket of laundry, the spilled juice on the table, or the ornaments your toddler has already pulled off and dropped on the floor.  Now there’s no

“Moms are superheroes!” no, we’re not. We just don’t have any other options. If not us, who? As the resident chef, maid, chauffeur, accountant, nurse, secretary, and milk maid of my household, I’m exhausted. I can’t be the only one thinking “Did moms always have to do this much? How did the human race survive?”, because it’s ROUGH out there.

Motherhood has added so much joy and also so much weight to my life. I’ve avoided being in front of the camera as a result. I take all the pictures. Babies with grandma, with their dad, at the zoo, at the park. My camera roll is full of babies. Yet, no photos of me with them. And I did all

You weren’t the first. I was a deer in headlights then. I learned so much from him. You weren’t the second. That was like riding a bike. I felt so confident with him. You came third, & I thought that I was so ready for you… and then out you came, wildly screaming. Just to prove me wrong, you haven’t stopped

Today I was a bad mom. I wonder if they’ll remember all the times I said no. I wonder if they’ll hate me for yelling as much as I did. I wonder if they’ll forgive me. From the moment we opened our eyes, the baby couldn’t be put down. Not once. Not even for one short nap. She followed me