Month: January 2025

Okay, let’s talk about the daily chaos that is getting three kids ready for school. If you’re like me, mornings feel like a race against the clock, and I’m almost always losing. Jenny’s in high school now, so she thinks she has it all together—except when she forgets her shoes or needs help with math homework, which always seems to happen at the very last second. Lincoln? He’s busy eating everything in sight and complaining that his backpack is too heavy. And then there’s Molly, who’s convinced that breakfast is a social event, and she’ll just happen to take an extra 20 minutes deciding if she’s feeling “cereal or waffles” today.

I swear, some mornings it feels like I’ve run a marathon before 8 a.m. So, how do I survive the madness without screaming or completely losing my cool? Well, here’s what I’ve learned—mostly through trial, error, and a LOT of coffee.

First off, the night before is your secret weapon. I know, I know. We’re all tired by bedtime, but taking just 10 minutes to lay out clothes, pack backpacks, and make sure everyone’s shoes are in the same zip code can save you a ton of stress. Trust me. Jenny always leaves her homework on the kitchen table (and by “always,” I mean always), so making sure that’s done before bed keeps my blood pressure in check.

Then, I rely on the magic of routine. For example, we have a “15-minute drill” that we go through every morning: 15 minutes for everyone to get dressed, eat breakfast, and gather their things. If we stick to it, we’re out the door in record time. But the key is staying calm. Even when Molly decides to wear two different shoes because “they’re both cute, Mom!” I take a deep breath and let it slide.

Of course, there’s always that one thing that throws it all off—like a forgotten science project or a missing permission slip. But I’ve learned to embrace the chaos. It’s never going to be perfect, and some days are messier than others. But hey, we make it out the door with shoes (mostly) on the right feet, backpacks in hand, and maybe even a smile. And really, that’s a win in my book.

So, the next time your morning feels like a scene out of a disaster movie, just remember: You’re doing great. Mornings are tough for all of us, and no matter how it looks on Instagram, we’re all just winging it. And somehow, we make it work—every single day.

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Okay, let’s talk about something that pretty much every mom feels at some point—mom guilt. Yep, the all-encompassing, heart-tugging feeling that you’re always doing something wrong, even when you’re trying your hardest to do everything right. It’s like this invisible weight that no one really talks about but that we all carry around like a bag of bricks. And trust me, it doesn’t matter how many times I say, “I’ve got this!”—it always sneaks up on me when I least expect it.

Take the other day, for example. I was in the middle of trying to get Molly’s hair brushed (which, by the way, is like trying to wrangle a very angry cat), and Lincoln needed help with some school project that I had no idea what to do with. And then there’s Jenny, who wanted to talk about some drama with her friends, and of course, everyone needed snacks—right now. I was already four steps behind, juggling all of it, when I realized I hadn’t even thought about dinner yet. That’s when the guilt hits: “Am I failing them?” “Am I not being the best mom I can be?”

It’s constant. From forgetting to sign the permission slip (oops, sorry, Jenny) to feeling like I haven’t spent enough one-on-one time with Lincoln, or hearing Molly’s tiny voice ask, “Mom, can you play with me?” while I’m deep in my to-do list. And I don’t know about you, but my brain doesn’t stop. It’s like, “Hey, remember you haven’t called the dentist yet?” or “You forgot to buy toilet paper…again.”

But here’s the thing: I’ve learned that the guilt isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s a reminder to slow down, be present, and just breathe for a second. It’s easy to get caught up in the hustle, but those little moments, like when Lincoln hugs me for no reason or Molly tells me she loves me “so, so much,” make all the chaos feel worth it.

Honestly, I’ve started embracing that the guilt isn’t something to fix. I used to think I had to do everything perfectly, but I realized it’s about doing my best and letting the rest slide. That’s how I’m learning to deal with it. It’s more about remembering that I’m doing enough, even if everything isn’t perfect (and let’s be real, nothing is). Every time the guilt creeps in, I just remind myself that I’m trying, I’m showing up, and that’s what really matters.

At the end of the day, it’s okay to feel guilty. It’s okay to mess up. It doesn’t make you any less of a mom. And for all the times I feel like I’m juggling a million things, it’s important to give myself some grace. After all, I’m doing the best I can with what I have—and that’s enough.

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Let me start by saying it: being a single mom is tough. Like, really tough. I mean, I’m Kara, and I’ve got three kids—Jenny, Lincoln, and Molly—and while they’re all amazing in their own little ways (I mean, really amazing—no bias here, obviously), being their mom alone is a whole different story. Some days it feels like I’m just holding on for dear life, juggling all the things, and other days it feels like I’m a walking superhero. (Except without the cape… and the superpowers… and I don’t even know where my keys are.)

But here’s the thing: No one really talks about the not-so-glamorous side of single mom life. The side that’s messy and chaotic and just downright exhausting. And no, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows (except the desert kind that makes your skin feel like it’s roasting at 3 p.m.). So I’m here to give it to you straight, no sugarcoating.

First of all, there’s the loneliness. Oh, the loneliness. It’s not like you’re alone, because your kids are constantly around, fighting over the TV remote or needing help with their homework (shout out to Jenny for asking 40 questions about math that make my brain want to explode). But it’s that other kind of loneliness—the one where you miss having an adult to talk to who isn’t asking if they can have snacks every 15 minutes. And forget trying to get any meaningful conversation in when you’re trying to make dinner, answer an email, and referee a battle between Lincoln and Molly over who gets the last cookie. Spoiler: I never win those.

And then there’s the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Every time I tell Jenny, “I don’t have time to help you with that,” or Lincoln insists he needs help with another science project that looks like it was designed by NASA, there’s that little voice in my head whispering, “You should be doing more.” It’s relentless. It’s the “Am I enough?” voice that never quite shuts up, even when you know you’re doing the best you can. But at the end of the day, we’re all surviving. I mean, nobody’s gone hungry (except maybe the plants, they’re definitely a little neglected).

And let’s talk about the “me” time. You know that thing people talk about, like “Oh, take care of yourself first, so you can take care of others”? HA! Yeah, right. My “me time” is usually when I’m hiding in the bathroom, pretending to read a book (that I haven’t actually opened), and hoping no one knocks on the door for at least five minutes. Self-care? More like “Let me just take a 20-minute nap while they fight over who gets to use the bathroom first.” It’s the dream, really.

But despite all of that, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. There’s something about seeing those little faces light up when they finally understand their homework (or when I finally say, “Okay, fine, you can have another snack”) that makes it all worth it. And yes, it’s tough. There are days when I’m emotionally wiped out and wishing for a tiny break—but there are also the moments that make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

At the end of the day, being a single mom means you’re doing it all, but you’re doing it with so much love and so much heart. It’s not glamorous, but it’s real. And hey, if I can make it through another day of unicorn glitter covering the floor and four loads of laundry, I think I’m doing alright. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I’ll find where I put my keys. Fingers crossed.

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