When I shut my laptop, went into the bathroom and cried


J has some kind of hockey event at least three times a week. Since T was born, being the younger sibling, she’s gets dragged around to all of J’s events – soccer, karate, and hockey.

We didn’t worry about it too much initially. We chalked it up to being an unavoidable symptom of being the younger sibling. It’s either that, or Ry and I would be in separate places taking the kids to their respective activities or hiring someone to shuttle the kids their events.

Out of convenience, T does gymnastics in the same building as J’s hockey. Practice is usually at 4pm. Well before the end of the standard work day, and often before I’m actually done work for the day.

On this particular day I was juggling way too many things. I was on a conference call, getting J’s goalie pads on, and getting T dressed and ready for gymnastics.

As soon as we arrived at the arena she fell apart. “I want fries and ketchup”. She moaned like a starving child. Though she just had snacks in the car on the way over.

No – you start in 5 minutes, there’s not enough time and I don’t have money today”. I quickly snapped. She broke into tears. I ignored her while I continued wrestling with smelly hockey pads.

She was still crying when I brought her to her gymnastics coach. I handed her red, wet-faced little body to the instructor and explained she was just mad at me for not letting her have another snack and made a mad dash back to getting J ready.

Five minutes later J was dressed and on the ice, and I popped open my laptop to get an hour of work in with no interruptions. I’d peek in on the kids a few times over the hour because I like seeing them rocking it out and to make sure they know I’m there.

Before I even opened Outlook, the gymnastics teacher came up and handed T over like a sack of rotten potatoes, “Hi Mom, Talia isn’t participating today and is just following me around. She did this last week too. I have too many kids to watch to hold her hand during the whole class. I’m really sorry.” She made a sad face and walked away.


My gut reaction was to fire back, “Well what am I paying you for? Bring her ass back out there!”

Instead I shut up and sat her beside me. Just staring at her, not sure what to do next. Hoping for some divine intervention from the parenting gods telling me what to do.

I asked her why she wasn’t doing gymnastics. No answer.

Do you want to quit?” I asked.

I asked her a few more times, and eventually she said, “Yes. I want to do what you said.” (Meaning quitting).

Without a fuss, I picked her up, took her over to the info desk and said we’re canceling because she doesn’t want to do it anymore. Done. I wasn’t going to force her.

I sat back down with T and she started whining for snacks again. “No snacking!” I told her – “You should be in gymnastics. I’m not here to play. You can go back in there and we can play after.”

One of the workers then came over to me and suggested I stay in class with her. I asked T if this is what she wanted, and she excitedly nodded.

Closed my laptop, took her hand and walked out onto the gym floor.

She was practically bouncing. (She was also literally bouncing because she was on a trampoline.)

Every three seconds she looked at me yelling, “Hi mommy!” waving her little hand off.

She went through class asking her if I was going to watch every single activity. I said yes.


It smacked me right in the face.


She’s had enough of being carted around to J’s activities. She has also had enough of me sitting in the lobby and working instead of watching and waving.

I felt like a huge asshat.

After a few handstands and bridges, she had to pee.

I took her into the bathroom, sat her on the big toilet and crouched down in front of her.

We locked eyes.

We were just staring at each other. No words.

I asked her, “Does it make you sad when I’m not watching you do gymnastics?

Yes.” She answered flatly.

Then I started to cry.

As her lower lip quivered, she asked, “What’s wrong mommy?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not watching you in gymnastics. I’m so sorry. I’m going to watch you every time. Do you forgive me?”


Me with a shocked look on my face…what? You don’t forgive me?

“What does forgive mean?”

“It means that even though I did something bad, it means you can forget about it and still love me.”

“I forgive you.”

I hugged her little body so tight exploding with gratitude. I’m so lucky I have you.

Let’s get back out there.


I can’t do it all

I had yet another reminder. This one was a smack in the face. Another example of me trying to do it all, even though I know I can’t. I need constant reminders that I can’t really have it all [whatever all means anyway] – nor should I try.

Today’s lesson, was if I’m going to show up, just fucking show up. Put the distractions away and be there.

Even if I find it boring to watch half a dozen preschoolers picking wedgies while they do summersaults and bounce around. I’m going to do it.


How to have a conversation with your kids about work




At the end of every day, [if you have a soul], you’re asking your kids how their day was.

My usual run of questions looks something like this;

“What did you do at school today?”

“What was your favorite part of the day?”

“What was the coolest thing you did today?”

On a chatty day, I’ll get answers to all of these. On a meh day, I get the standard answer, “fine”.


One day, the tables turned, and I was a little stunned at first.

I heard a little voice saying to me,

“Mommy, how was your day?”

“What did you do today?”

Oh, cool! My son wants to know about my day! What a sweet little boy.


What does he want?

Is he going to ask me to be a goalie again?

Shut up Jacq, just answer the questions.

“I worked today.” I answer.

“What does that mean?” He probes.

Oh, he wants more….

“I wrote bunch of stuff, and people liked it. I also made a presentation and went to some meetings and talked to people.”

Jacob, “Oh.”


Now, I offer details about my working mom day right after I’m done with my rapid-fire with the kids’ day.

Even if it seems like they’re ignoring me at first, I know they’re listening.

How do I know? Because they ask me questions about it.

They care.

They validated my existence.

When you’re done asking your kids how their day at school was, why not offer some details about your own day?

Complaining is not a conversation

If you come home from work, complaining about how exhausted you are, how big of an asshole your boss is, and how Debbie drama is stirring shit up at the water cooler – what are you teaching them?

You might be teaching them not to have a job – which is fine too – what if they don’t want a job, and you want them to blaze their own trail? Cool.

Do you work in IT and would never wish the horrors of the corporate world on your kids? Think complaining about it will stop them? Probably not. They might end up just like you.

Do you want your daughter to come home from work at the end of the day exhausted, hating her life, and carelessly throwing a frozen meal into the microwave because she is just SO DONE?

The little people are watching. They’re also ready to listen if you’re talking.


Ready to start blabbing about your day?

Here’s some easy ways to talk about your work to kids:

  1. Talk about it in a positive way
  2. If something was shitty today, tell them what was shitty [replace “shitty” with “poopy” if you wish], and how it made you feel – and what you’re going to do about it. Show them you’re a problem solver, that shit [poop] happens sometimes, and that you can handle it—LIKE A BOSS.
  3. Show them something you made or did at work. I show my kids PowerPoint presentations all the time. They look at it like, “Wow, that’s boring mom.” But if I talk about it with an ounce of enthusiasm and tell them what happened because of it – I made the client happy, everyone loved it, or I got a standing ovation [totally making this up, I’ve never had this happen], they’ll be excited too.
  4. A funny video or story you laughed about with your coworkers
  5. Show them a photo of their pictures or drawings decorating your desk at your work. Make sure you tell them about all the nice compliments people offered about their stuff too.
  6. Bring them to work! If you can of course – take them to your work, show them around, introduce them to people, show them what a day in the life of you is like. Show them where you eat lunch and where you get your coffee. I brought my kids to the office one day and once they got over the elevator ride to the 53rd floor, they were wowed by the view and the office, the abundance of snacks and the pop stocked in the fridge.
  7. How what you did at work today is making a difference in someone else’s life
  8. Your biggest win of the day
  9. Play the two truths and a lie game
  10. What you’re excited to tackle tomorrow.


Your kids will see that there’s more to you than the one who wipes boogers, makes PB&J sandwiches, and tells them how much time of whatever they’re doing they have left.

You’re a multi-faced woman, you’re passionate, and you can kill it at soccer coaching and PTO-ing the shit poop out of those snack nights.



The 2-step quick & dirty way to make a decision

Photo courtesy of https://joaomalaquias.wordpress.com/

Photo courtesy of https://joaomalaquias.wordpress.com/

What do you do when you have a tricky decision to make? Do you flip a coin? Do the first thing that comes to mind? Ask a trusted friend and do whatever they say?

Do nothing?

Do you find yourself caught up in decision paralysis so often you end up taking no action? Nada. Zilch.

Doing nothing IS a decision.

The old story I used to tell myself: I’m indecisive. Don’t ask me to make a decision, can you just make my life easier and make a decision for me?

This is what decision-making used to look like for me:

What do you want for lunch? Oh whatever.

Chocolate with sea salt or dried cherries? I can’t decide, I’ll have both.

Quit a soul-sucking job that was laying people off by the hundreds? Naw, I’ll just hang out and look for something else until I get shit-canned.

              When’s the right time to have kids? Meh, I’ll just toss the pill and see what happens.

              Do you want me to drive to the party? Oh whatever, you decide.

What the fuck?

There’s controlling what you can, then there’s throwing all your control out the window and letting the universe completely decide.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a control freak, but also a huge people pleaser. I want to make everyone happy. Don’t rock the boat, don’t make waves.

But I was potentially compromising myself, and not getting exactly what I wanted. Why shouldn’t I ask for what I want? If I get it, cool. If something else shows up, it’s probably what the universe thought was best for me.

Thank you.

I’m getting better at making decisions. Decisions that don’t involve “doing nothing”.

I’ve tested this decision-making process on a bunch of decisions over the past few months:

  • When deciding if I should shell out $400 for a ticket to a tiny book making workshop in Portland, Oregon. On top of the $400 I’d have to buy a flight, stay in a hotel, food, the guilt of leaving Ry with the kids for the weekend, and knowing about the overwhelm that would await me when I returned with undone laundry, a messy house, and no food cooked ahead for the week. Was it all going to be worth it?
  • As I neared finalizing the edits on my book, I was planning on putting it up for sale on my website. I considered putting it on Amazon, but this freaked me out. What if no one buys it? What if it’s ranked DEAD last? What if people hate it? If they hate it and I sell it on Amazon, people will say so – publicly! What if they hate me? If I launched it on my website, I’d have no way for people to share their opinion publicly. Sure, they could email me and tell me they hated it, but who really does that?
  • Should I join the PTO?
  • Should I quit Twitter?
  • Should I quit Instagram?
  • Should I drink less wine?


I realize many of these decisions might sound super trivial and not all that life altering. You’re right – they’re not. But over the course of a lifetime, all these small decisions we make add up to a lifetime.

Your lifetime.

I found a trick that works for me, maybe it’ll work for you too.

I suggest you practice it all the time. Practice it with decisions like, should I have a burger or a salad for dinner tonight? Should I have tea or a soy latte? Should I go to happy hour tonight?


Quick & Dirty Process

As you practice making these quick and dirty decisions, you’ll get in the habit of making decisions faster.

  1. Take whatever you’re trying to decide. Pretend with every ounce of your being that you said YES.
  2. You just said yes. How do you feel? Listen to the first things that pop into your head and the clues that pop up in your body
    • Feel suddenly resentful? Maybe you’d better say NO to this one.
    • Feeling stupendously excited and thinking about what you get to do next? Good call.
    • Is your body saying “UGH”, do you feel deflated? You might be better off with a NO.
    • Want to race to call your BFF? Probably a YES.

Yes, it’s two steps, and as promised, quick and dirty. The more you tune into what’s happening in your body, the easier making decisions will become for you.

Way more fun than making a list of pros and cons right???

The Breath Holders



You know that moment of silence when a kid goes down on the ice? He goes down hard. And he doesn’t quickly bounce up like he normally does.

He’s barely moving. He’s cringing. He’s hurt. And he’s not trying to hide it.

“Get down on one knee!!!!” the coach yells as he races out onto the ice in sneakers, negotiating staying on his feet while simultaneously trying to get his ass there fast.

The little bodies, confused, quickly drop to a padded knee, resting their sticks on the ice. Standard sportsman conduct when a comrade is hurt—it doesn’t matter what team the hurt kid is on. Get on your knee.

The last time this happened I noticed the response in my body.

I’m holding my breath.

Arm pits tingle. Instant sweat down my right pit.

I’m suddenly unreasonably hot, and way too young for hot-flashes-thank-you-very-much.

The coach is crouching down over him now.

Then, panic hits me.

I look around. Shit, is that my kid? It looks like my kid. By process of elimination I scan the other boys and spot my son.

Eyes closed, sigh. Relief.

Relief only lasts a nanosecond. I’m holding my breath again.

My kid is fine, but someone else’s kid is not fine.

I’m holding my breath again. The voice in my head saying, please let him be okay, please let him be ok, please, please, please…get up, get up, GET UP!

He stirs.

I sit up straight.

Hands clasped tightly in front of my heart—thank you!

He rises with the help of his coach and skates off, supported. The boys rise to their feet and start clapping as they pat him on the back on his way by.

I’m clapping. Tears of gratitude well up in my eyes.

Every time this happens to another kid, I feel like it’s practice for when it’s going to happen to mine. What’s up with that?

If I rehearse this event enough in my head, will I be able to handle it with grace when it happens? Or will I freak out? Will it suck less if I practice now? Or am I squashing my joy just a little bit each time?


What happens when you fall?

Do people lower to a bended knee when you were down?

Do people applaud when you get back up?

Who’s holding their breath for you?

What would you do differently if you knew when you gave it your all, people would treat you with kindness and respect?

No one’s going to scream at the kid, “Get up! Stop being such a wuss!” Would you say that to someone else?

Would you say it to a kid?

My guess is no.

Even if you can’t hear them cheering for you, it’s because they’re probably watching you and waiting, holding their breath.

You can’t hear them if they’re holding their breath.

Waiting for you to stir, stand up, try again, or try something else.

When you do, they’ll applaud. You might not hear them – if they’re high up in the stands, or if you’re busy listening to people criticizing you.

Know this…

The people on one knee, the breath holders, and the clappers are still there. In your section, watching your bad-assery in your arena, cheering you on. You just can’t hear them.



Which way to the arena?

the arena

In the spring of 2015, Jacob had his first tryouts for ice hockey. Up until now, he’d being doing drills but never playing an actual hockey game.

Ry took him to the tryout. He called me 30 minutes after it started and said it was bad. Really bad. “Should I pull him off the ice?” he asked.

I told him it was his call.  In the end, he let him continue the tryout for another hour.

The other kids would skate from one end of the rink to the other, while Jacob was busy getting up after falling for the fifth time. All the other boys were waiting for him to finish his lap. Every single time. Until they eventually had to keep tryouts moving

He was the worst kid out there.

We figured his hockey career would be over after this. We thought he’d get off the ice bummed, then we’d trot his gently used equipment to Play it Again Sports and hope to recoup some money. I expected him to come home shattered.

My heart hurt for him.

We weren’t prepared for Jacob’s reaction when he skated off the ice and through the heavy gate.

“Daddy, did you SEE me? I was AWESOME!!”

Was this just like the American Idol contestants who’s kind, and potentially tone-deaf parents told them little Connie Crooner was a talented super star and she should keep singing?

Should we tell him he sucked? Should we let him keep trying?

“Um….ya…..good work out there buddy!” seemed like something a good parent would say.

He loved it, and wanted to keep going.

During the first few games of the season it was painful and horrible to watch as a parent. As I sat shivering with my butt on the cold metal benches, I’d cringe every time Jacob would go after the puck.

If he was coordinated enough to actually make contact with the puck, he’d lose his balance and fall over. Knocking kids down on both teams, ungracefully interrupting what could have been a great play for his teammates.

My face burned with embarrassment for him and myself. Sitting in the stands with all the other parents of amazing and talented hockey players I wanted to personally apologize to them all for Jacob’s playing…or, er…lack of.

He’d sometimes tell us about some of the other kids that told him he sucked. I asked him how that made him feel, he said it made him feel angry.

Jacob kept going. We taxied him to practice three times a week some weeks. In ever practice he gave it is all. He pushed himself to his limits every time his wobbly ankles hit the ice.

He never whined either. Even after an hour of drills, he’d skate his huge heart out.

Coming off the ice drenched with sweat, dripping from his smelly helmet he ALWAYS said he had fun.

During one game in the late spring we looked at him in awe – he was actually…good. How did that happen? He even had an assist! We prayed for a goal, but were happy with an assist. Coach gave him the actual puck he got the assist with. Jacob slept with the puck that night.

Fast forward 6 months.

After practicing once or twice a week for 6 months, and every waking hour all summer in the driveway with the net he bought with his own money—he got really good.

I’m grateful to his coaches – who worked with him and encouraged him.

Once we realized he was good, he said he wanted to play goalie.

What? Just stick with what you’re doing—you’re good at it!

He wore us down. He told me his way of getting what he wants is to keep asking. It worked.

Coach said if he wanted to give it a whirl, he should.

Today, he tried out being a goalie for the first time. I was hesitant. And not just because goalie equipment is damn expensive, and didn’t we just buy hockey equipment?

See, the goalie can either get all the glory for a shutout, or lose the game. I couldn’t bear my son being the cause for losing a game. Couldn’t I just enjoy him being good for a while? Why did we have to change?

He tried it out for 90 straight minutes of scrimmage, and from my untrained eye he did better than I thought he would. Of course I was rooting for him, I’m always rooting for him.

Checking in with the coach after, “Give it to me straight coach – you don’t need to sugar coat it. How’d he do?” Coach said he had a natural ability for the position and he should keep doing it.

Oh shit.

As I sat there watching the determination on Jacobs face as he let in about 50% of the shots on goal, I realized he was doing it.

Since his very first try out, he was playing in the arena. Literally and figuratively. And he didn’t give a rats ass about what anyone else outside of the arena thought about him. He fell hundreds of times in the past six months. He got up every single time, and cheered his team on.

In the past week I picked up Rising Strong from Brené Brown. It’s a book about what it takes to get back up after we fall. In it, she says, “If you are not in the arena also getting your butt kicked, I’m not interested in your feedback.”

Jacob is seven, and he already gets this – and has no idea who Brené Brown is.

Today, we bought goalie equipment.

As I watched Jacob giving goalie his all, I had an arena-a-ha moment of my own.

I was plugging along making final edits to my book, I didn’t intend to put it on Amazon for sale.

That’s for big time people. That’s for people who want to sell millions of books. That’s for professional authors. I want to stay small. I don’t want people comparing me to the pros. I can’t play where they play.

This was the story I was telling myself.

I was playing safe.

I’ve always been one to play it safe. Except for that one time, in the Adirondacks with a semi-stranger. I’ll tell you that story later.

I was planning on distributing my book through my website, so I could offer my tiny book to the small audience on my site.

More importantly – if people hated the book, they’d have to go out of their way to email me and tell me they hated it…and who does that?

If it was on Amazon, people could write nasty things about me. They could tell me how much I suck with the click of a button and a few keystrokes.

After getting my ass kicked by Ry (not literally) after telling him I wasn’t putting the book on Amazon, he helped me realize I was playing small and safe by hiding my book. This way, if the book flops, no one would ever really know—and I could spare my feelings.

A-ha moment…

If anyone gives me shit or says they hate the book – and like my brave 7-year old, if they’re not also in the arena getting their ass pummeled, I don’t want to hear it.

Which way to the arena?

The best social media strategy




Do you feel the pull?

When you fire up your phone just to “check” if anything is new on Facebook.

When you’re bored with that you switch to Instagram. When looking at perfectly curated photographs gets old you cue up Twitter. Before you know it, you forgot why you even opened your browser.

Like walking into a room and wondering what brought you there in the first place.

The pull I’m talking about is that nagging feeling that you might be wasting time – Your time.

More than money, more than fast cars, your time is the most valuable asset you have and the one you can control the most.

Social media is a boredom cure, bathroom buddy (oh, c’mon, you know you do), and creativity killer.

A few weeks back I realized I didn’t like who I was when I was scrolling and scrolling, when I have better things to do and people I love who want my attention.

I took a Facebook-free weekend, and learned a lot about myself, and the people around me.

Monday morning though, I was back at it.

Like a dieter who was binging on chocolate cake. Standing up. At the kitchen counter.

Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. LinkedIn.

I’d set up little games with myself as I was working on my book. Write for 30 minutes, then reward myself with a Facebook break.

I was bored.

When I realized I was scrolling though pages and pages of updates without actually even reading anything, I knew something had to give.

Then this landed in my inbox and out of curiosity, I whipped out my calculator to see how much time I’d spend on social media by the time I was 100.

For simplicity sake, I estimated spending an hour a day on the drip.

If I’ve been on social media since 2007 and I spend an hour a day until I’m 100, that’s 73 years.

365 hours a year on social media, 26,645 hours of my life. That’s 3.03 years.


I thought about what I could accomplish with three years.

I could write a dozen books, a hundred blog posts, potty train a stubborn child, teach someone to read, master a language, or read 50 books.

Three freaking years.

Let that sink in.


Once I quantified this, I uninstalled Twitter from my phone. The next day I uninstalled Instagram.

I don’t have plans to quit Facebook anytime soon. It’s a tool that helps me set up real life things – with real people. I feel good about it, so it’s valuable to me and I mostly like the person I am when using it.

But…if I spend an hour a day on Facebook, that’s still three years of my life that are gone by the time I’m 100. That’s a lot of time and way more than I’m willing to donate to the scrolling time wasting gods.

Even if I limit Facebook to 15 minutes a day that’s still a big part of my life. Math whizzes feel free to do the calculation for me. I’m done with math for the day.

For now, I feel good about 15 minutes a day. Not sure yet how I’ll do it – keep a timer? I’m not into being super-strict and rigid – too fussy for me.

Being mindful of how I’m spending my time is the first step.


3 Ways to Power Through the Rest of the Workday When You Don’t Want to Work Anymore



It’s Tuesday at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. You just got back from your weekly Taco Tuesday lunch with your favorite coworkers, you’re full and happy.



You’ve accomplished a lot today, including getting that big presentation off to your boss, who thinks it totally rocks! You’ve got a few more things due by the end of the day and you know exactly what you need to do to get them done.

You can’t wait to cross them off your list with your pink glitter pen.

There’s just one problem.

You don’t want to work anymore.

Before you spend the rest of your day mindlessly scrolling through your Facebook feed for the billionth time, try one of these tried and true (and ridiculously easy) ways to power through the rest of your day without spraining your ankle or breaking a sweat:


  1. Change your scenery

Go outside for a quick walk and settle back into your desk. Better yet, go work outside if you can or find the closest, most inspiring café and stimulate your brain into working.

Book yourself a conference room or sit somewhere you don’t normally sit. The change will re-activate your brain, and get you mentally moving.

If you sit in an open office, this is a must.


  1. Get some fuel

With food and music. Skip the high octane energy drinks or your fifth coffee and opt for water, a green juice, and eat a piece of real food – think, nuts, seeds, veggies. Avoid the crash and save the sugar for after work. Then create a mental cue it’s time to work – headphones on, head down…and blast off!


  1. Trick yourself

Rewarding yourself is a fun way to play games with yourself to get shit done. Promise yourself when you finish your tasks and power through the rest of the day you’ll reward your hard work and head straight for some fro-yo, or happy hour, whichever is closer.


If all of these suggestions fail, consider going home. Maybe your brain really is fried from your hectic morning.

Your tired body and mind is ineffective and extra likely to make mistakes. Mistakes that could be costly and time-consuming to fix tomorrow. Blech!

Be honest with your work peeps, remind them what you accomplished this morning and tell them you need a mental break. Make yourself available if your team needs to reach you and promise to check in tonight, or come back after a great night’s sleep relaxed and refreshed and ready to take on a new day in the morning.

They’ll appreciate the honesty, and probably don’t want to deal with the hassle of reworking your sub-par work anyway.

Hair down, bottoms up, rest up, come back and be your amazing self in the morning.


Like this? Get fun and salty updates, but only when I have something mildly entertaining or wildly helpful. Click here if you know what’s good for you.

How to meditate if you’re a mom





Things we know are good for us but don’t do enough of:

  • Exercise
  • Drink less wine
  • Put money away
  • Meditate

Today I’m going to talk about the last one – meditation. I’m not going to address the other three because I haven’t figured them out yet.

It’s not that I have meditation all figured out either. I’ve tried it and I can tell you it feels good and I want more. But with little kids around, I don’t know how to get more of it.

Closing your eyes and taking deep breaths has its benefits; getting in touch with your inner-self, keeping calm, and deepening your breathing, which will increase your mental focus and make you a happier person to be around.

In the short run, it’ll help you stay sane so maybe you’ll make it through a whole day without yelling at the kids and feeling bad about it.

Easy enough.

Except you have kids! Who has time to meditate?

When you wake up in the morning and you realize you’re the first one awake you practically bounce out of bed. ALONE TIME! WEEEEE!!!!

You rush to your butt to your meditation pillow, settle in…breathe in… ahhhhhhh….

Then you hear a noise from the bedroom, followed by what sounds like elephant feet.

“My bed is wet.”


“Me” time is over. Total pillow time – 6 seconds.

You want to meditate, but the kids have other plans.

So why not work in little bursts of mindfulness throughout your day?


Here are seven practical tips to meditate while you mom:

  1. Steal a moment among the madness.

When you notice a moment when the kids are calm and quiet, close your eyes wherever you are and take a few breaths. Feel their presence. Feel how grateful you are to have these crazy little nuggets in your life.

  1. Meditate with the kids.

If your kids are old enough to close their eyes and sit criss-cross-applesauce on the floor, they can meditate with you. Sit together on the floor with the TV and other distractions quieted. Tell your kids exactly what’s going to happen next. Close your eyes together and guide them through some deep breathing. Walking them through it as their guide will be a calming experience for both of you.

  1. Do it in the bathroom.

You’re alone anyway. Stop using this time to check Facebook and instead use it for a quick sanity break. When you’re in the shower, or even sitting on the toilet. Close your eyes, pay close attention to your breathe. You’ll emerge from the loo feeling like a new person.

  1. In the car.

Please keep your eyes open at all times when you’re driving the car. Except if you find yourself at your destination early, and the kids asleep. Don’t let this moment pass you by! Turn some calming music on and enjoy the moment of meditative bliss.

If the car is in motion, you can practice mindfulness with your eyes open. As you travel along, focus on your breathing. Sit up straight, shoulders back, inhale, exhale, and repeat. Doesn’t that feel good?

  1. Take a walk.

Walking meditation is the new black. Even if you have kids with you, you can point out interesting things along the walk; a funny shaped rock, a chipmunk, how the bark on that tree over there looks different from all the others. The goal is to relax and connect with nature, your kids, and yourself.

  1. When you sit down to dinner.

When you all sit down to dinner you can take a moment to be grateful even if you’re not the praying kind. Silent your phone, light a candle, sit down and just enjoy two breaths focusing on your food before you start. You can do this as a family or do it alone – no one will know. Take one mindful inhale and one mindful exhale, in your head, say, “thank you”, then enjoy your food using all the senses you used to prepare the meal.

Take a bite of food, and pay attention to what the food feels like and tastes like.

  1. In bed.

Before you get out of bed in the morning, linger for just a minute. Set a simple intention for the day, like, “today I’ll keep calm when the kids fight.” Then smile to yourself and enjoy the day.

You can do something similar before bed too. Take a few minutes to think about the three best things that happened today, jot them down in a notebook if you like. As you lay there before you drift off to sleep consciously relax every part of your body, starting with your toes, working your way to your head – if you even make it there before you enter dreamland.


What I Learned After A Facebook-Free Weekend



Facebook is a problem for me. I admit it.

On the phone.

While watching TV.

Waiting for dinner to cook.

While eating dinner.

While brushing my teeth.

Waiting in line for anything.

Anytime I find an idle moment, including idling at a stoplight, I’m checking, checking checking.


We don’t know to be bored anymore. I certainly haven’t.

Thing is, I didn’t like the person I was with all this checking. I also, have more pressing shit to do, that’s not getting done.

I’m working on a book. I asked myself if checking Facebook is helping me reach my goal of getting my little book done and out into the world.

It’s not.

I decided to have a Facebook-free weekend to see how I felt. I had no other goal than this.

I removed the icon from my accessible apps on my phone on Friday afternoon and headed into the weekend.

Here’s what happened:

  • I noticed that J has a really hairy back. Like really hairy. Blond, hairy beast.
  • I breathed deeper. Have you ever noticed you hold your breath when you’re scrolling or waiting for a webpage to load?
  • I talked to not one, but two moms at T’s ballet class
  • I’m halfway through reading this. Which is inspiring me to keep disengaging from Facebook and general time-wasting online activities.
  • I colored, in this, and didn’t freak out when the kids wanted to color in it too….OUTSIDE of the lines!
  • I was bored! At stoplights, in line at Target
  • The kids had an unobstructed view of my face and not my eyelids from looking down on the phone
  • I learned I want to open the F-book and scroll when I’m feeling grumpy

Before you’re all like, “whoah, she didn’t check Facebook all weekend!” please know I cheated twice.

First, to get an address for an event, and second, when I got in line at the drive-thru bank and it was six cars deep…on a Sunday, the walk up was locked, it was hot and I was pissy.

I’m not going to go as far and say I’m quitting Facebook. Let’s not get crazy now. But I am setting healthy limits.

Cause I got shit to do.

What will you notice when you stop scrolling for a weekend?


PS – I’ve intentionally disabled comments. So you can toss your phone aside and go do something else. 

You’re welcome.





The Working Mom Gap



The kind of working mother you are.


The kind of working mother you want to be.

You want to be the working mom that goes on school field trips, bakes cookies for the bake sale, goes to all the soccer practices, makes a home cooked organic meal lovingly crafted with produce from your garden, rocks 4 inch heels, gets her hair trimmed on schedule, pays all the bills on time, socks money away in savings, has a firm ass, goes on 5 star vacations and has the adoration of her kids, her husband and her boss.


You’re the working mom who goes on one field trip a year (if that – and it’s only because you wanted to visit the planetarium anyway), buys cookies from the store for the bake sale if you actually remember, you go to soccer games but miss practice, you cook at home a few times a week, go out for dinner the rest. You have a “garden” full of beautiful plants, they might be weeds. You embrace flat shoes, trim your own hair when it gets unbearably scraggly, have $26 in savings, dreams of a firm ass – or might be able to call it firm if you flex it hard enough. You staycation and have the adoration of your kids, your husband and your boss.


See what happened there?

Your husband, kids and boss still adore you. (wink)

They don’t give a rats ass about the kind of person you want to be.

They only care about the person you are…right now, and that you’re there.

That you show up and wear your hat. Your mom hat, your wife hat, your amazing PowerPoint presenter hat.

So what do you do when the vision you hold for yourself is so far from reality it makes your heart hurt?


You adjust your vision, your reality, or both.

Want to grow a garden but are lacking time, or just don’t know where to start? Get your veggies from your local farmer’s market, plant one herb in a pot, and feel damn good about it.

Ask your kid how soccer practice was. Then look him in the eye, drop your smartphone and listen to him through the whole story of how he kicked the ball, scored on the coach. Listen until he’s done.

Do 10 squats every morning while you brush your teeth. Instant firm ass….even if it’s just padded.

Make no changes, and make peace with reality. The people you care about love you.

Make a tiny tweak to one area of your life at a time. Feel good about it.

Redefine what good means to you. Feel good about it.

Remember, you don’t need to be the best wife / mom / employee in the world. Feel good about who you are, today.

Close the gap.


What tweak will you make today to close the gap between being the person you are and the person you want to be?