Free shipping on all orders over $75🎄

Some of you aren’t prepared for the FULL parenting truth I’m about to drop so feel free to excuse yourself (and stay outta my comment thread), but here it goes…

Stop telling me I’m their safe place.

Don’t remind me that, as the mother, I’m the nurturer, offering comfort and extending unending grace.

Resist the urge to suggest to me that I’ll miss this one day.

I know. I know.

You mean well.

Your intentions are pure.

You’re 107 and miss when your kids were little.

But here’s the thing . . . 

I am in the thick of it, Susan, trudging through the mud and muck of battle and I am so war-torn and weary that your kindness doesn’t just fall on deaf ears . . . 

It makes me feel like a FAILURE because the last thing I want to do right now is to make memories with these miniature monsters I call my children.

They are making me crazy.

They fight over everything and they are somehow still greedy even after entire life lessons of gratitude and generosity.

I don’t feel like their safe space.

I feel like the giver of time-outs.

The maker of 427 meals a day.

The breaker-up of arguments.

The constant reminder to stop whining.

The opener of snacks.

The desperate waiter for bedtime.

And the cleaner of ALL. THE. THINGS.

And honestly, I’m not overflowing with gratefulness right now.

Frustration? Yep.

Guilt? You betcha.

Anger and resentment? Check and double-check.

But thankfulness?

Honestly?

Not lately. Nope. No ma’am.

Friends, I could blame my feelings on extreme parenting, on quarantine, on my own mental health battles, on homeschooling, on the absolute total dumpster fire that is 2020 . . . 

And it’s probably a combination of all of it.

But maybe this is just parenting right now.

None of us know the right thing to do.

For the holidays.

For school,

For dinner.

So HOW am I supposed to work, to be a wife, to be a half-decent mom, to pay bills and make doctor appointments, meet deadlines, finish grad school, and don’t even get me started on maintaining ANY kind of mom friendships because HOW!?

Every day feels like a repeat episode of Groundhog Day and there is no escaping the nightmare.

Now I’m supposed to be all holiday-spirit-y and sprinkle magic everywhere I go when all I WANT to do is throw my kids’ gifts into the fire and crawl under the comfort of my warm blankets and not come out until spring.

Friends, this is the actual truth many parents aren’t speaking aloud right now. But I’m here to tell you that some of us are treading water and others have been drowning since May.

So, instead of offering advice (which I’m willing to bet no one asked you for).

Instead of asking how I am and accepting a sigh of “fine” as my response.

Instead of buying my kids a whooooole bunch of plastic crap they don’t need this year.

Consider this . . . 

Pray for me.

Come pick me up for coffee (don’t ask first or I’ll make an excuse why I can’t come).

Pay for the mom in line ahead of you at Starbucks.

Hug me (with your mask on) when I look like I’m crumbling . . . and be OK to sink to the floor with me when I fall apart.

Because this . . . this whole thing—2020 and COVID and quarantine and kids and parenting during the age of Pinterest and completely unreasonable expectations—

It. Is. Too. Much.

If you, like me, are finding yourself floundering and somehow drowning even in the shallow end, friend, know you’re not alone.

This just sucks right now. That’s it. The end.

Know you’re in good company and that feeling like you’d die for your kids while somehow simultaneously wanting to throw them out the window doesn’t make you a bad parent.

It means you’re normal.

Because we are quick to beat ourselves up and accept the full blame for our kids’ behaviors, listing out all the things we’ve done wrong.

But can we just agree that sometimes kids are just acting like miniature mental patients!?

We were, too!

Only 20+ years ago our parents told us to go outside and don’t dare return until the streetlights came on.

If we did that now, CPS would be at our doorstep by lunch.

So, settle in, mama. This road is HARD.

But I’m right beside you . . . with coffee.

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page

PS – If you just don’t know how to parent in a pandemic, you’re not alone.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Brynn Burger

Mental health advocate, extreme parent, lover of all things outdoors, and sometimes a shell of my former self. Parenting a child with multiple behavior disabilities has become both my prison and my passion. I write so I can breathe. I believe that God called me to share, with violent vulnerability and fluent sarcasm, our testimony to throw a lifeline to other mamas who feel desperate to know they aren't alone. I laugh with my mouth wide open, drink more cream than coffee, and know in my spirit that queso is from the Lord himself. Welcome!

God Had Different Plans

In: Faith, Motherhood
Silhouette of family swinging child between two parents

As I sip my twice-reheated coffee holding one baby and watching another run laps around the messy living room, I catch bits and pieces of the Good Morning America news broadcast. My mind drifts off for a second to the dreams I once had of being the one on the screen. Live from New York City with hair and makeup fixed before 6 a.m. I really believed that would be me. I just knew I’d be the one telling the mama with unwashed hair and tired eyes about the world events that happened overnight while she rocked babies and pumped milk....

Keep Reading

My Baby Had Laryngomalacia

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding baby on her shoulder

Life’s funny, isn’t it? Just when you think you’ve got the whole motherhood thing figured out, the universe throws a curveball. And, oh boy, did it throw me one with my second baby. There I was, feeling like a seasoned mom with my firstborn—a healthy, vivacious toddler who was 16 months old. Our breastfeeding journey had its hiccups, an early tongue-tie diagnosis that did little to deter our bond. Fourteen months of nurturing, nighttime cuddles, and feeling powerful, like my body was doing exactly what it was meant to do. Enter my second baby. A fresh chapter, a new story....

Keep Reading

Please Stop Comparing Kids

In: Motherhood
Mom and kids in sunlight

Let me begin with this important message: Please refrain from comparing children, especially when it pertains to their growth and development. If you happen to notice differences in a child’s height, weight, or appetite compared to another, that’s perfectly fine. Your observations are appreciated. However, I kindly request that you avoid openly discussing these comparisons as such conversations can inadvertently distress a parent who may already be grappling with concerns about their child’s growth trajectory. Trust me, I say this from personal experience. Recently, at a dinner gathering, a couple casually remarked that someone’s 1-year-old child appeared larger both in...

Keep Reading

This Will Not Last Forever

In: Faith, Motherhood
Woman looking at sunset

“This will not last forever,” I wrote those words on the unfinished walls above my daughter’s changing table. For some reason, it got very tiring to change her diapers. Nearly three years later, the words are still there though the changing table no longer is under them. While my house is still unfinished so I occasionally see those words, that stage of changing diapers for her has moved on. She did grow up, and I got a break. Now I do it for her baby brother. I have been reminding myself of the seasons of life again. Everything comes and...

Keep Reading

You Made Me Love Christmas

In: Motherhood
Family in pajamas near Christmas tree, color photo

Hi kids, this is a thank you note of sorts . . . I’m about to tell you something strange. Something you may not “get” yet, but I hope you do eventually. I used to dread Christmas. I know, isn’t that weird? Most kids and a lot of adults have countdowns and decorations and music, but I had a countdown in my mind of when it would be over. To me, it wasn’t a happy time. From the age of about eight (right about where you all are now) Christmas, for me, became like a job of sorts. Long before...

Keep Reading

She is an Anonymom

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother standing at sink holding a baby on her hip

She stands alone in the church kitchen, frantically scrubbing pots and pans while the grieving huddle around the fellowship hall, and she slips out the back door before anyone comes in. She is an anonymom. She gets out of her car and picks up the trash thrown into the ditch alongside the country road. She is an anonymom. She sits on the park bench, watching her children play. In the meantime, she continually scans the whole playground, keeping track of everyone’s littles, because that is what moms do. She is an anonymom. RELATED: Can We Restore “the Village” Our Parents...

Keep Reading

I Come Alive at Christmas

In: Motherhood
Kitchen decorated for Christmas

It’s time again. Time for the lights and the trees and candy canes and tiny porcelain village homes. It’s time to shake off all that this year has thrown at me and come alive again. My favorite time of year is here and it’s time to make some magic. My mom started the magic of Christmas for me when I was little, and I was infatuated with the joy that it brought to so many people. Loved ones come together and everything sparkles and people who don’t normally come to church are willing to join us in the pews. Everything...

Keep Reading

Brothers Fight Hard and Love Harder

In: Kids, Motherhood
Two boys play outside, one lifting the other on his back

The last few years have been a whirlwind. My head has sometimes been left spinning; we have moved continents with three boys, three and under at the time. Set up home and remained sufficiently organized despite the complete chaos to ensure everyone was where they were meant to be on most days. Living in a primarily hockey town, the winters are filled with coffee catch-ups at the arena, so it was no surprise when my youngest declared his intention to play hockey like his school friends. Fully aware that he had never held a hockey stick or slapped a puck,...

Keep Reading

Stop Putting an Expiration Date on Making Memories

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother and son in small train ride

We get 12 times to play Santa (if we’re lucky). This phrase stopped my scroll on a Sunday evening. I had an idea of the direction this post was going but I continued on reading. 12 spring breaks 12 easter baskets 20 tooth fairy visits 13 first days of school 1 first date 1-2 proms 1-2 times of seeing them in their graduation cap and gown 18 summers under the same roof And so on and so on. It was essentially another post listing the number of all the monumental moments that we, Lord willing, will get to experience with our...

Keep Reading

Connecting with My Teen Son Will Always Be Worth the Wait

In: Motherhood, Teen
Teen boy standing near lamppost, color photo

So much of parenting teens is just waiting around, whether it’s in the car picking them up, reading in waiting rooms now that they are old enough to visit the dentist alone, and quite honestly, a lot of sitting around at home while they cocoon in their rooms or spend hours FaceTiming friends. Sure, you have your own life. You work, run a household, have your own friends, and plan solo adventures to show your teen that you’re not just waiting around for them all the time. That you are cool with them not needing you so much. But deep...

Keep Reading