I’m Not JUST Your Mom!

 I’m not just your mom.

I’m a wife, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, and a niece.

But more than anything…

I’m a person.

I was once a little girl who loved to laugh, who dreamed of becoming a princess, and who ran to her own mommy when she was scared. I was a kid trying to find my way. I was a teenager stumbling through this crazy world, making mistakes and trying to learn from them.

And then I became a mom.

I didn’t know how to care for something so tiny, so fragile. I didn’t come with a manual or a blueprint. I had to grow with you—learn with you. Every new stage of your life was a new stage for me too.

Yes, I’m your mom.

But I’m also still just a woman learning every day. Still figuring things out. Still getting it wrong sometimes. Still dreaming. Still healing. Still growing.

So the next time you look at me—when I forget something, when I say the wrong thing, when I seem overwhelmed—I hope you’ll remember: I’m not just your mom.

I’m a whole person.

One who loves you more than you could ever know,

But one who’s still just trying to get it right.

This is new for me too.

If you can relate leave a comment below-and remember: you’re not just a mom. You’re a whole person. 

The Truth About ‘Me Time’

Let’s be honest—I get overstimulated a LOT.

I’m a mom. I’m a wife. I juggle emotions, schedules, meals, laundry, meltdowns (mine and theirs), and about 47 tabs in my brain at any given moment.

So when life feels too loud, too full, too much… I go to my husband and sit in his lap.

Yes, like a child.

Yes, I know how that sounds.

And no, I don’t feel silly about it anymore.

Because that man? He is my person.

My grounding place.

The one who sees me holding everything together—and gently reminds me I don’t have to.

Not alone.

My Version of ‘Me Time’ Looks Like This:

It’s not always a bubble bath.

It’s not a weekend away.

It’s not a locked bathroom door and a candle (though, let’s be real, I wouldn’t say no to that either).

Sometimes, me time is crawling into his lap after a long, chaotic day.

Sometimes it’s just sitting there quietly while he holds me and tells me I’m doing a great job.

It’s the moment I get to stop performing and just… exist.

No expectations. No responsibilities. No noise.

He’s the Calm in My Chaos

This man walks through the door after working his own full day and still—still—chooses to take part of my load.

He makes dinner when I can’t.

He gives me the softest space to land when I’m emotionally bruised.

He doesn’t tell me to “take a break”—he makes sure I do.

And that’s love.

That’s partnership.

That’s me time, gifted to me in the shape of his arms.

Your ‘Me Time’ Might Look Different—And That’s OK

Maybe yours is journaling with your coffee.

Maybe it’s hiding in the pantry with a chocolate bar.

Maybe it’s walking around Target aimlessly.

The point is: You’re allowed to have it.

You need to have it.

And it’s not a luxury—it’s mental health maintenance.

So Here’s Your Permission, Momma:

Take five minutes.

Even if it means crawling into a lap like a kid.

Even if your to-do list says otherwise.

Even if your version of “rest” doesn’t look like anyone else’s.

You are allowed to feel held.

You are allowed to rest.

And if no one has told you lately—you’re doing an incredible job.

If this hit home—even a little—please share it with another mom who might need permission to rest. 💛

And if your version of “me time” looks different than mine, I’d love to hear about it. Drop a comment or message me—I see you, Momma.

You are not alone.

And you don’t have to hold it all alone, either.

She’s Not Your Competition

 You’re standing in the grocery store, staring at a pack of chicken and wondering if tonight’s the night you finally cook a proper meal… or if it’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch (again). That sweet, crunchy bowl of surrender has already been dinner three times this week.

Then you see her.

Another momma, gliding effortlessly down the aisle with her cart full of fruits and veggies, looking like she stepped straight out of a Pinterest board. You picture her in a spotless kitchen, cooking a gourmet dinner, lighting candles on her table, and somehow managing to be everything you feel like you’re not.

But what you didn’t see was her, just a few hours earlier, locked in her bathroom, crying.

Exhausted. Overwhelmed.

Telling herself she’s failing.

Today, your little girl turned three. You dressed her up in a princess dress, watched her gleefully smash cake into everything except her mouth, and captured every moment like it was gold.

You shared it on social media.

And just like that, the comments came:

“Too much sugar.”

“Processed food?”

“Do you know what’s in that frosting?”

What they didn’t know is…

You lost your job.

Money is tight.

And you scrimped and saved just to give your baby one magical, messy, beautiful day.

A brand new mom brings her baby home, heart bursting with love—and nerves. She’s learning, fumbling, doing her best. But instead of receiving support, she’s met with criticism.

Unsolicited advice.

And a barrage of “you should do it this way.”

She’s not asking to be corrected.

She’s begging to be understood.

Mommas, she is not your competition.

So why are we acting like she is?

Why are we so quick to pick each other apart?

Why do we rush to judge the version of someone’s life we can’t possibly understand?

We’ve all fought invisible battles.

We’ve all cried in the shower so no one could hear.

We’ve all felt like we were failing.

It’s time to stop the comparisons.

To quit the criticism.

And start showing up for each other.

Be the mom who smiles in the grocery store.

Be the woman who says, “You’re doing a great job,” to the one holding a screaming toddler and a crying baby.

Be the friend who brings grace instead of guilt.

We don’t need more judgment.

We need more cheerleaders.

Because one day, the little girls we’re raising will become moms too—and what we model is what they’ll carry.

Let’s teach them to support.

To encourage.

To believe in one another.

The truth is, we’re all just trying to make it through the day without hiding in the pantry with a bag of goldfish and noise-canceling headphones.

So let’s stop treating each other like competition.

And start being the village we all desperately need.

If this message speaks to you, share it.

Tag a mom who’s doing her best—even when it doesn’t feel like enough.

Let’s flood the feeds with kindness, not criticism.

Because real support starts with us.

🩷 Drop a 💪 or a 💕 in the comments if you believe in moms supporting moms.