Category: Motherhood

You ever feel like you’re living in a sitcom, but with less glamour and a lot more laundry? That’s pretty much my life. As a mom of three—Jenny, Lincoln, and Molly—I’ve learned a lot over the years, and it’s mostly come in the form of surprises. And not the fun, “here’s a puppy for your birthday” kind. I’m talking the “I can’t believe this is my life right now” kind of surprises. The kind that teach you life lessons you never signed up for, but here we are.

For starters, let me take you back to a few years ago. Things were, well, different. I was married. I thought we were doing it all right. Then came the big bombshell—divorce. Just like that, everything I thought was set in stone turned into a stack of paper to sign, meetings with lawyers, and way too many sleepless nights. I was suddenly the single mom to three kids, trying to juggle it all—working, school activities, playdates, soccer practices, and oh yeah, trying not to drown in a sea of emotions. Divorce wasn’t just hard on me; it was hard on the kids too.

But let’s be real, no one tells you how to “do” single motherhood. There’s no handbook. Sure, you’ve got your mom friends who offer advice, but honestly? It all depends on what your ex is like, too. For me, I’ve had to navigate what feels like an obstacle course of co-parenting. My ex and I have an arrangement for visitation rights, and it’s been a ride. The first time he took the kids for a weekend away? I stood in the driveway like an emotional mess. I’m talking full-on tears, hand to the forehead, the whole dramatic “who am I now?” thing. But then I got used to it. It wasn’t just that I had time to myself (bless those moments), but it was about learning how to share my kids in a way that’s healthy and works for all of us. It’s been a process.

And guess what? It’s not just about visitation rights—it’s about scheduling. Who knew that keeping track of visitation and trying to stick to some kind of routine would make me feel like I needed a second job? I swear, Google Calendar and I have a relationship now. The number of times I’ve texted my ex about “who has the kids on what day” is honestly embarrassing. You think you’ve got a plan, but then life throws a curveball, and you’re scrambling. I’ve learned that flexibility is key, but also that it’s okay to be frustrated when things don’t go as planned. That’s real life, people.

Let’s talk about the kids. Oh, my sweet, sweet kids. Jenny, Lincoln, and Molly each have their own way of coping with this new reality. Jenny, my 15-year-old, is at that age where she’s figuring out who she is and what she wants in life. Add the divorce to the mix, and it’s like the emotional rollercoaster I never signed up for. She wants independence but still needs me, and sometimes that leaves me feeling like I’m being pulled in a thousand directions. Lincoln, my 11-year-old, is constantly trying to make sure everyone is okay, which is sweet, but also kind of heartbreaking. Then there’s Molly, the 8-year-old, who just doesn’t get why the family isn’t together anymore. Watching her try to make sense of it all? That’s been one of the hardest parts of this whole thing.

One thing I never anticipated—how much me time would be so important. You might think that when you’ve got kids bouncing around the house, you barely have a second for yourself, but I’ve learned that I need those breaks. You know, the ones where I can lock myself in the bathroom for ten minutes, drink a cold cup of coffee, and pretend I’m at a spa. It’s not glamorous, but it’s necessary. I can’t be the best mom I can be if I’m not taking care of myself. And honestly, that’s something I didn’t realize before the divorce. I thought I had to be everything for everyone. I learned that it’s okay to be a little selfish sometimes.

And let’s not forget the whole “dating after divorce” thing. That’s a whole other layer of surprise, let me tell you. My first foray into dating after my divorce? Hilarious. You get to that point where you’re like, “Okay, I guess I’m putting myself out there,” and then you realize you’ve forgotten how to talk to someone who isn’t a 5-foot-tall human who needs their shoes tied. Dating again has been a learning curve, to say the least. I’ll tell you, though, the moment I started dating someone who actually respected my role as a mom—well, that was when I knew I was doing something right.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this whole “raising three kids post-divorce” thing hasn’t been easy. There are days when I feel like I’m barely keeping it together, and other days when everything feels like it’s falling apart. But here’s the thing: I’ve learned that this journey, as chaotic and unpredictable as it is, has made me stronger. I’m still figuring things out, still learning every day, and yes, still surprised by what happens next. But one thing is for sure—I’m doing it, and so are my kids. We’re in this together, and that’s all that matters.

So, to all the single moms out there, the ones navigating messy schedules, tricky co-parenting dynamics, and emotional rollercoasters—you’re not alone. We’ve got this, even if we don’t always have it all figured out. Trust me, one surprise at a time, you’ll learn more than you ever thought you would. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need to keep moving forward.

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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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Okay, so here’s the thing. If you’ve ever stepped on a Lego at 2 a.m. or spent 15 minutes trying to clean glitter off the kitchen floor, you’re probably shaking your head and wondering why in the world I’d let my kids make messes. The truth is, I used to be the mom who would run around after every meal, picking up crumbs, wiping down surfaces, and making sure everything was in its place. But then something clicked. Maybe it was because my kids were getting older and I was starting to really value their creativity, or maybe it was just the endless piles of laundry finally getting to me. Either way, I’ve embraced the chaos, and you know what? I’m a lot happier for it.

I’ve got three kiddos—Jenny, Lincoln, and Molly—and let’s just say that, together, they’ve mastered the art of mess-making. Between Lincoln’s science experiments (aka a random assortment of “ingredients” all over the kitchen table) and Molly’s crafting sessions that leave glitter trails for days, my house can look like a disaster zone in about 30 minutes. But I’ve learned to let go.

You know what happens when you let the mess happen? Magic. No, seriously. Letting them get creative with their messes means that they’re exploring their imagination, testing their limits, and learning things they won’t get from a worksheet. I could never have predicted how much joy I’d get watching Molly cover her hands in paint as she “paints” the walls with all the enthusiasm a kid can muster. I could’ve said, “Nope! That’s too much!” and ruined the fun, but instead, I let her go for it. And guess what? She was SO proud of that mess afterward, and I didn’t even mind cleaning up a bit of paint (okay, maybe a lot of paint) because of the joy in her face.

Same goes for Lincoln’s science “projects.” Sure, there’s some mess involved, like flour everywhere or water spilled all over the kitchen counter. But guess what? He’s learning about cause and effect. He’s experimenting. He’s thinking. And that, my friends, is way more important than a clean kitchen. As for Jenny, well, she’s mostly trying to get out of chores, but I’ve learned to let her make some messes too. Maybe she’s in her room, crafting something for a school project, and there’s a mountain of paper, glue sticks, and markers scattered across the floor. But she’s being independent, working through her own ideas—and that’s a skill I can’t take away by stressing over the mess.

Here’s the kicker: when I stopped worrying so much about the mess, I felt freer, too. I’m not running around like a crazy person, trying to keep things spotless (because let’s face it, it’s impossible with three kids). Instead, I’m focusing on what’s really important: spending time with my kiddos and encouraging their creativity, even if it’s at the cost of a little extra cleaning later.

At the end of the day, we all know that the mess will get cleaned up eventually—whether it’s me doing it, or my kids pitching in (ha!). But the memories they’re making, the skills they’re learning, and the pure joy they get from creating? Totally worth it. So yeah, I’ll take the mess. I’ll take the glitter. And I’ll take the happy, satisfied faces when my kids are proud of what they’ve made.

And hey, if you need me, I’ll be the one over here trying to scrape paint off the floor while sipping my coffee. Maybe next time, I’ll just let it be part of the art.

So, here’s the thing about having a teenager. Or, in my case, a teenager and a pre-teen. Jenny’s 15 now, and I’m starting to think that “keeping my cool” is going to be a lifelong challenge. Every day, I’m like, “I got this!” and then five minutes later, I’m regretting my life choices after a meltdown over something as simple as homework. Can we just get real for a sec? The teen years are no joke.

Jenny’s gone from being the sweet little girl who would tell me everything—like, the details of every dream she had that night—to someone who gives me the “I don’t know” shrug when I ask about her day. Lincoln and Molly, though, they’re just holding out for their turn. It’s coming. I know it. And let’s just say I’ve got my “I’m not going to lose my mind” toolkit ready. But… spoiler alert, it’s not going that well.

Here’s the deal: I’ve tried a few things to stay Zen. I really have. First, I’ve attempted to stay calm when Jenny gives me the look—the one that says she’s so done with me. Instead of launching into a lecture, I take a deep breath and remind myself that I was a teenager once, too. (Okay, maybe not as dramatic, but still!) This usually lasts about two minutes before my inner voice starts yelling, “Why did you just say that?!” But hey, progress, right?

Second, I’ve been really into mindfulness lately. A solid three minutes of it, anyway. The idea is that if I can calm my own nerves, maybe it will rub off on Jenny when she’s arguing with me over something. But, spoiler again: not so much. The only thing I’ve really “calmed” is my coffee intake. Baby steps.

Third, I’ve been trying to keep things cool (literally) by getting outside more. Fresh air. Sunshine. Sometimes the kids come with me, sometimes not. But taking a walk in the neighborhood with no yelling about chores or curfews? It’s magical. I’m convinced that the more I get outside, the less I feel like I’m about to explode over absolutely nothing.

Fourth? I’ve started practicing the “ignore the drama” method. Seriously, when Jenny storms off or Lincoln’s testing my patience with a ridiculous question, I’ve been learning to just—not—respond right away. I know. It sounds counterintuitive, but I promise it works. By the time I get a second to think, the moment has passed. (Mostly.)

Lastly, I’m really leaning into giving them space. No, it’s not easy. There are days I just want to talk to my teenager like we’re best friends, but it’s all about timing. I’ve learned the hard way that bombarding her with questions when she’s just walked in the door is not the winning strategy. Letting her come to me is the goal—though, again, it takes patience. (Patience I am working on… with varying success.)

So, yeah. Keeping my cool? A work in progress. But one thing I know for sure: If I don’t laugh through some of the ridiculousness, I’ll lose my mind. And then Jenny will probably get the satisfaction of saying, “See? Told you so.”

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As a mom of three, I’ll be honest—finding time for myself can feel like an Olympic sport. Jenny’s got homework that needs help every time I sit down, Lincoln’s trying to show me the 27th YouTube video about his latest obsession (which, by the way, is always something different), and Molly… well, Molly’s got a way of needing things at the exact moment I think I’ve got a second to breathe. It’s like they can sense when I’m about to hit “pause” and decide that’s when the world needs them most.

So, where does that leave me? Somewhere between the couch cushions, probably, wondering how much I could get done in 10 minutes of silence (spoiler: not much, because someone will come asking for a snack, or the dog needs to go out, or… you get the idea).

I’ve tried all the tricks—locking myself in the bathroom with a book (but who am I kidding, I can hear them knocking), sneaking out early for a walk (but then it turns into “hey, I thought you were going for a walk?!”), and pretending to be super busy just to carve out a moment. But let’s be real, as moms, we’re always busy. You never really escape the fact that you’re juggling a million things at once.

But here’s the thing I’ve learned over time: even if it’s just five minutes, that tiny window of peace can make a huge difference. I’m not talking about a whole spa day (though, let’s be honest, that would be amazing). I’m talking about a hot cup of coffee before the kids wake up. I’m talking about sitting outside for two minutes in the sun with no one asking for anything. I’m talking about sitting in the car for an extra minute after grocery shopping, just to breathe and enjoy the quiet.

It doesn’t have to be perfect. Honestly, it probably won’t be. But carving out these little moments here and there helps me feel a little more like myself—like the mom who’s not just running errands, but also remembering that she has a life outside of wiping noses and packing lunches. It’s a small victory, but it’s mine.

I know it’s tough. Moms, you get it. But if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t pour from an empty cup. So, as much as it might feel impossible, finding those little moments to recharge is the secret to surviving the madness and staying sane (or at least pretending you are). Keep sneaking those moments, and don’t feel guilty for wanting a little time for yourself. Trust me, you’ve earned it!

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Ah, family road trips—where the promise of adventure is often overshadowed by the reality of endless “Are we there yet?” and the strange smell that seems to take over the car after three hours. As a mom of three, I can tell you, no matter how much you plan, road trips with kids can be a wild ride. Jenny, Lincoln, and Molly have their own unique ways of making sure there’s never a dull moment, but somehow we survive… usually.

The key is to embrace the chaos. Seriously. Don’t fight it. You’re going to need snacks. A LOT of snacks. I’ve got a whole bag of treats that I pull out like some kind of snack wizard when the “I’m starving!” complaints start. The trick is to have enough variety to keep everyone happy (or at least distracted for 10 minutes). I’ve learned that granola bars, fruit snacks, and those weird little cheese crackers are worth their weight in gold.

And let’s talk entertainment. If I ever find a DVD player that works for longer than 30 minutes, it’s basically a miracle. We’ve got every screen in the car going at once—tablets, phones, the big car screen, you name it. Of course, they all end up fighting over who gets what, so I just pray for peace and quiet for at least an hour. Sometimes, though, it’s just about surviving the soundtrack of random kids’ songs played on repeat for the hundredth time.

Then there’s the bathroom breaks. Are they even real if you don’t stop at least four times, right? I think we’ve all been there. That magical moment when everyone’s “fine” and then 10 minutes later, someone’s going to burst into tears because they “didn’t need to go before.” Ugh. I can’t win. Also, can we talk about how the gas stations in the middle of nowhere always smell… off? That’s just part of the adventure, I guess.

I’ve also learned that road trips are the perfect time to have those deep philosophical conversations with my kids. You know, the ones that start out with “Mom, why do people drive?” and end with “I don’t know, Lincoln, but we’re going to keep doing it until we get to grandma’s house, okay?” Sometimes, it’s actually kind of nice to be stuck in the car with the kids for hours, even if it feels like I’m about to lose it at any moment.

But then, you hit that point in the trip—finally—when they fall asleep. You know it’s coming. It’s like this beautiful moment of silence where you can almost hear your own thoughts again. Of course, then you have to resist the urge to crank up the music and sing as loud as you want. But hey, we’ve earned it, right?

So, yes, family road trips can be chaotic, and yes, they can test your patience. But they’re also full of moments that you’ll laugh about later. In the end, it’s all part of the adventure—one car snack, one “are we there yet?” at a time.

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Fall will be here before we know it and I love to decorate. I’m just not into all of the traditional orange. I decided to be a little untraditional and go for a copper and white decor. I couldn’t find anything at the store that I really liked so here is my DIY tutorial.

What I used:

Plain papier mache pumpkin that I purchased at Hobby Lobby for 40% off. Yay me!
White spray paint
Round paint sponges
Copper paint (or any fun color you choose)

The process was really quite simple. I am far from crafty so I would say this is definitely a beginner level craft!

I started off by spray painting the pumpkin outside. Of course it was a little windy that day so I got a little messy. When the pumpkin was dry I used the three different sized sponges to make a random pattern with the copper paint. And that is pretty much it. I did add some twine to the stem that I had laying around.

I love how it came out! The white and copper are a perfect combination and it really stands out. In total this project only cost me about $8. The pumpkin was $6, the sponges were $2, and I already had the spray paint and copper paint.

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