A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I schedule my laundry-folding sessions for the nights when my favorite show is on TV.

I think the habit grew from my desire to watch the show in its entirety—start to finish—without having to answer a million questions or fetch Goldfish or help a kid in the bathroom. So when my husband gets home from work on Tuesday evenings, I quietly excuse myself to our bedroom where I fold eleventy-hundred loads of laundry and watch my show in peace. 

The silence and chance to “escape” for an hour are heavenly . . . even if I am sorting underwear and matching socks the entire time. 

When I mentioned this to my sister-in-law, she nodded. “Same here!” she told me. “I go to my room, stick in my earbuds, and listen to an audiobook while I fold. It’s the most relaxing part of my week.”

The most relaxing part of her week. And if I’m being honest, it’s probably mine, too.

RELATED: Take That Break Before You Break, Mama

As moms, we count on things like:

Hot showers
Solo car rides
Trips to the grocery store alone
Scrolling our phones from the waiting rooms of appointments
Sitting in quiet cars in ridiculously long drive-thru lines

We do these things—these boring, monotonous, responsibility-led things that somebody has to do—and we call them “me time.” Not because they’re activities we actually enjoy, but because they give us a tiny break from catering directly to everyone’s needs, while still being productive enough to not make us feel guilty. 

I mean, it’s kind of crazy when you think about it.

We feel like we must be doing something worthwhile at all times, but we rarely consider taking care of our own physical, mental, and emotional needs a good enough “something.”

Instead, we sneak self-care into the fine print of our days. It’s something we fit in when we can, not something we intentionally carve out a time for.

And when we finally do plan something just for us, there’s a nagging at the back of our minds telling us there are more important things we could be doing. We sabotage our attempts at self-care by sandwiching them between other to-dos, so we don’t feel guilty about the time spent on ourselves. 

RELATED: Dear Husband, Help Me Take a Break

We schedule a massage, then plan to run by the grocery store, the post office, and the car wash on the way home to justify the trip.

We hire a babysitter, then spend every single second of our kid-free time cleaning or working or running errands instead of doing something that refreshes us.

We draw a hot bubble bath, then mentally prepare our weekly grocery list as the water wraps around us.

And yeah, we watch our weekly show (sometimes DVRed and three days late) while we whittle away at a mountain of laundry.

We do these things, and we call them good enough. We even go so far as to call them “self-care.”

But mama, hear me when I say errands, showers, and chores are not some kind of mom break time—they are essential parts of everyday life. The fact that we allow ourselves (and the world) to view them as some sort of privilege is why we feel so run down.

Moms need more than a 15-minute car ride or shower to preserve our sanity. That’s like running a marathon and hoping for the occasional raindrop to land on us instead of stopping to take an actual drink. It just isn’t going to sustain us. 

True self-care is doing something for ourselves, to recharge our batteries—and making absolutely no apologies about it.

I deserve that. You deserve that. We all deserve that.

RELATED: Check On Your Strong Friend, She’s Faking It

We deserve a spa day to decompress.

We deserve to go into the coffee shop for that latte and sip it slowly while we turn the pages of a good book.

We deserve a nap. A lonnnng nap, because we’re freaking tired.

We deserve to spend an afternoon binge-watching our favorite show and snacking on whatever the heck we feel like.

We deserve to dust off that hobby we haven’t made time for in years.

We deserve to do things that benefit us and us alone—without feeling guilty or like we’re letting our families down.

We deserve to fill our cup—like really fill it—not just pretend it’s full because we had an hour to fold laundry by ourselves without interruption.

When we became moms, we gave up so much of the time that used to be ours to do as we pleased. And the sacrifice is worth it, truly, but that doesn’t mean it’s not really hard sometimes. 

We can absolutely adore motherhood while also recognizing that it doesn’t give us everything we need. Both things can be true.

The only way to get through these years with true joy and fulfillment is if we slow down enough to care for ourselves so that we actually have something to give those we love.

You can’t pour from an empty cup, mama, and you deserve so much more than to try.

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!

Casey Huff

Casey is Creative Director for Her View From Home. She's mom to three amazing kiddos and wife to a great guy. It's her mission as a writer to shed light on the beauty and chaos of life through the lenses of motherhood, marriage, and mental health. To read more, go hang out with Casey at: Facebook: Casey Huff Instagram: @casey.e.huff

The Final Out

In: Motherhood
Baseball game as seen through the fence behind home plate

Tonight I watched him step up to the plate for the last time. Play-offs. Single elimination. Down by one. Last inning. Two outs. And the batting lineup just happened to fall to him. Nothing prepares you for that. He took a breath. The weight of an entire lifetime spent in red dirt hinging on this moment. He set his face like flint to that pitcher. The ball left the glove, and he swung. Strike one. He stepped away. Reset. Tapped the base. Then set himself once more. He swung, hit a line drive, and sprinted headlong towards the base, setting...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

The Pressure to Do Everything “Right” Is Crushing Us

In: Motherhood
Tired and stressed mother sits in hallway with toddler across from her, black and white image

I don’t remember when motherhood started to feel like a test I didn’t study for—but somehow, I’m always convinced I’m failing it. It’s in the quiet moments. Standing in the grocery store aisle, overthinking every label—organic, non-GMO, dye-free, free-range, grass-fed—like I’m one bad decision away from ruining their future…while also trying not to take out a second mortgage just to afford my ever-rising grocery bill. Sitting on the couch, wondering if the show they’re watching or game they’re playing is rotting their brain. Lying in bed at night, replaying the way I handled a meltdown, picking apart every word I...

Keep Reading

Letting You Go Is Still So Hard

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Walkway toward water at sunset

Nothing really prepares you for the day your child leaves the house. Last September, my husband and I moved our 18-year-old son into his dorm room. Right after that, he was swept away into all things orientation, and we began our 1,000-mile journey back home. Leaving this beautiful human I raised and spent all those years with felt foreign. During our final hug goodbye, despite trying to hold in my pain, I broke out in huge, ugly, guttural tears. Our drive home was a long two days. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around. Returning to...

Keep Reading

Behind Every Smiling Graduate Is a Mother Letting Go

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mom and grown son smiling

Every year, millions of American families send their children off to their freshman year of college. Their pictures dot our social media feeds. Images of excited students holding collegiate pennants, maybe wearing a hat or holding up their school’s hand sign with beaming smiles. Their parents post excited words about futures and hopes and dreams. One chapter closing. Another opening. A new beginning. So why am I struggling so much? Why does this feel more like a loss than a gain? Why are my tears always on edge, threatening to spill over each time I think about August and what...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

As a Medical Mom, I Measure Growth Differently

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little girl climbing outside

In most homes, the marks on the wall are a simple celebration of time passing. They are pencil lines that track how many inches a child has gained since their last birthday. But in our home, those marks represent a much deeper, more complex story. When your child lives with multiple hormone deficiencies, growth is never just “natural”—it is a carefully managed medical achievement. However, as any medical mom knows, the story doesn’t end at the top of the head. It begins deep inside, with a tiny gland that isn’t sending the right signals. Having multiple hormone deficiencies is often...

Keep Reading

Hannah Harper Is Every Mom with Babies in Her Arms and a Dream In Her Heart

In: Living, Motherhood
Hannah Harper American Idol winner sings with her young son on her lap

By now, you’ve probably seen the posts flooding your feed: A young mom. Three little boys. A guitar strap embroidered with her children’s drawings. And a crown. When Hannah Harper won American Idol this week, moms everywhere erupted. And honestly? Same. There is something collective about watching a stay-at-home mom win on such a large stage. The celebrations have been pouring in. Moms, we can do it. She didn’t abandon her dreams. She went for it. And all of that is true, and all of that is worth celebrating. But I want to add something to the celebration. Not to...

Keep Reading

Watching Your Children Build the Life You Prayed For Is Beautiful

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother dancing with son at wedding

“I love you, Mom.” “Hmmm?” (A little louder) “I love you.” “I love you too…so very much.” I’d been deep in thought, listening to the lyrics we were slowly dancing to. I knew this moment of ours was supposed to be the time to say all the things, but this boy and I had already said all the things, so the song the deejay played—written by Lori McKenna and sung by Tim McGraw—enchanted our ears: When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you When the work you put in is realized Let yourself feel the pride but Always stay humble...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman and young daughter smiling

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading