A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I tend to have FOMO, so when everyone starting sharing those “Bird Box” blindfold memes all over Facebook, I couldn’t wait to watch it. 

I don’t typically do scary movies, but I was excited for this one. After all, it stars Sandra Bullock (who plays Malorie in the film), America’s sweetheart. How bad could it really be? 

I put the kids to bed a little early, grabbed a bag of cookies because calories don’t count this week (Hallelujah. We can fix it in January.), and settled in with the two great loves of my life—my husband and Netflix. 

Five to 10 minutes in—seriously, five to 10 minutes—I was looking at my husband saying, “I hate this. I can’t. My anxiety medicine isn’t strong enough. Get ready to turn it off.” 

I couldn’t watch it, but I also couldn’t not watch it. Know what I mean? It was like a giant zit on your forehead. You don’t necessarily like it, but you can’t stop messing with it either.

It was intriguing for sure. Well-acted, well-written, well-directed. It will mostly keep your attention, all 124 minutes of it. 

If you like funny and heart-warming, keep scrolling until you find “Dumplin” but if you’re in the mood to be freaked out and a bit sad, “Bird Box” will suit you just fine. 

Like most movies, it comes with mixed reviews. Rotten Tomatoes has it as 65% and the critics are all over the place on this one. 

While I wouldn’t call it a typical horror film (you aren’t likely to jump or scream or squirm from anything overly gruesome), it is intense. There are no deaths that will shock you, no half-naked girls wearing high heels trying to escape the killer, and it couldn’t ever happen (gosh, I hope not at least), but the whole thing is just end-of-the-world, what-the-hell-is-going-on creepy. I don’t really know how to explain it, and honestly, it worries me that there are people out there who even come up and dream up and write this stuff. 

Here are my three major takeaways from the film, as a very normal human and not at all an expert, or a critic of any kind: 

  1. It’s every bit about living with hope and opening yourself up as it is a thriller. I had heard mixed reviews about the ending. Some people didn’t feel like it was tied up neatly enough. Some people feel like it was unresolved. Personally, I loved it. I ugly cried through the credits, half because I was so touched by Malorie’s ability to finally let go of control and fear, and half because I was such a tangled nest of emotions by the end. The releasing of the birds is as symbolic as it gets, as is her finally naming the children and telling them “and I am your mother.” Her character has a beautiful arc, much more so than the movie, which basically moves at the same speed the entire time, which is as expected as a rainbow after a thunderstorm but every bit as beautiful.
  2. The characters are wonderful contrasts of each other. From the very first scene, we know that Malorie is hard, and closed-off. She’s kind, but she’s tough. Mushy-gushy ain’t her style, which is probably while she survives as long as she does. Then we have Olympia (played by Danielle MacDonald) who is soft and sweet and not one bit self-sufficient. She’s been coddled and taken care of her entire life. Although they are both pregnant at the same time, that’s where their similarities end. One has a girl. One gives birth to a boy. One is eventually killed because of her overly-trusting nature. One survives, but is so afraid of love, she never really lives. Then there’s Tom (played by Trevante Rhodes), who is without a doubt, the easiest character to love. He’s handsome and charming. He’s the hero, not only because he physically saves the day, but because he teaches Malorie to live with some hope of the future, some vulnerability, some desire to live outside of the comforts of the safe box she has created for herself and her family. 
  3. MAJOR SPOILER: Do not read on unless you want the movie to be completely ruined. OK, you’ve been adequately warned. The blind are saved from this horrific killing-force. Their disability, the thing that sets them apart and has made them different their entire life, ends up being the thing that actually saves them. The entire movie, to a degree, is about the kind of blind faith we all need to keep moving forward on our journeys. We don’t ever know what’s ahead, what’s at the end of the river, but we keep moving forward with limited visibility nonetheless. We persist. We pursue. We keep living. We keep giving. We keep risking it all to make connections with one another.

Will I watch “Bird Box” again? Doubtful. Am I glad I watched it? I dunno. I didn’t sleep a ton last night, honestly, and I’m pretty tired because of it. Do I understand the memes now? Yes, yes I do, and for that, I am grateful.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

My Dad Gave Us Something Money Never Could

In: Living
Family smiling in posed photo

I was talking with my dad the other day about an upcoming Disney trip with our kids. I told him all we planned to do while we were there and how excited the kids were. He sat and listened, taking it all in. And then he said something that put a lump in my throat. “I’m so glad you’re able to give your kids the life that I couldn’t.” He went on to say he still carries some guilt–that he wishes he could have done more, taken us on trips, given us experiences he couldn’t. Hearing that broke my heart....

Keep Reading

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

In: Living, Marriage
father with two young children

The side of my husband who is hardest on himself usually shows up late at night. The house is quiet, the kids are finally asleep, and the day has done what it always does—taken everything it could from both of us. That’s usually when it comes out. The voice in his head that tells him he’s not doing enough as a father. Not present enough. Not patient enough. Not good enough. He doesn’t say it lightly. He says it like someone confessing a truth he wishes wasn’t true. Like he’s already measured himself against some invisible standard of fatherhood and...

Keep Reading

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

In: Living
Little girl looking through fingers

The roles. The expectations. The unspoken, undefined rules. The hurt feelings no one wants to talk about. It could be a scene from an old Abbott and Costello routine: “Who’s on first?” Motherhood is rarely clear-cut. And if you’ve ever tried to navigate life alongside a stepmother—or as one—you know how quickly things can become complicated. Add a stepmother to the mix, and suddenly it’s a relay race where no one’s quite sure who’s holding the baton, or if anyone wants it. This isn’t a story about winners and losers or choosing sides. It isn’t about who is right or...

Keep Reading

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

In: Living
Girl holding popsicle

The year is 2026: we’re inviting thousands of strangers to get ready with us, threatening our own deaths on a lot of different hills and, if you’re a millennial mom, determined to have a ’90s summer. Some top to-dos on the ’90s mom summer checklist? Lots of outside play, limited screens, less hustle, more simplicity. Overall, evoking the “carefree” summers of the 1990s. But did anyone ever ask the real ‘90s moms if summers back then were all we’re cracking them up to be? If my own memory serves me right, my parents talked a whole lot about summers in...

Keep Reading

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

In: Living, Marriage
Woman looking off to the fog

He promised you a lifetime, a family, safety, and security. You carried life and brought it into this world for him. Even still, in the trenches of postpartum, he betrayed you. It was never your fault. This is something I’ve fought to tell myself every single day since the day I discovered my marriage was never meant to last. Because the truth is, betrayal is never about you; it’s about them, and the character flaws deep within they’d rather bury than face. He watched as you fought for your life after delivery while your tiny, premature newborn spent the first...

Keep Reading

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living
birthday balloons

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living
Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living
Woman standing in field wearing hat

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living
Little girl in t-ball outfit

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living
Woman shopping for jeans

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading