Tag: family

The Becoming : Pride in the midst of chaos

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

Both Things Can Be True

This past week felt like a culmination of so many moments for my niece.

She is my older sister’s only child, and she is truly a gem of a human—kind, smart, hardworking, and quick with a perfectly timed sassy comeback when the moment calls for it. It’s her senior year, and with that comes all the lasts of high school, not just for her, but for her mom too. Anyone who has parented a senior knows those endings hit in unexpected ways.

My niece is a 4-H and FFA gal, a band kid, and a Girl Scout. Through these programs she has learned responsibility, leadership, grit, creativity, and how to show up even when things are hard. I am so incredibly proud of her accomplishments. At her last county show, she earned Reserve Champion with pickled beets (yes—pickled beets!), and her market broilers made the sale. Those are not small wins. They are the result of years of early mornings, late nights, dirty boots, careful planning, and persistence.

Another “last” arrived quietly when I had the chance to talk with my sister about what comes next for her baby—her everything. And make no mistake, this kid has options. Several schools have already accepted her, and some came with scholarship packages. That is huge. That is exciting. That is the payoff for all those years of busyness and commitment.

It sent me straight back in time to my own years as a mom with kids who showed. The careful choosing of recipes. The guarding of certain ones like state secrets (banana butter, I’m looking at you). The pride of watching your kids take ownership of their work. Even my two older daughters—without any guidance from me—entered items and won prizes. There is something deeply satisfying about watching your children surprise you with who they are becoming.

All of that nostalgia, love, and pride has been swirling around me this week… while my own life looks a bit like a shit show.

Our water heater quit and is limping along on a temporary fix after days without hot water. I’m dealing with a kidney infection and a pharmacy run that couldn’t come soon enough. Our car is broken down and has a flat tire. My husband had a job lined up, attended orientation, only to be told days later that the position had already been filled. And just to round things out, I sliced my fingers open trying to pry a tin can (yes, I absolutely should know better), which earned me an ER visit, a tetanus shot, glued fingers, a wrapped thumb, and the loss of a good portion of my thumb pad. Goodbye thumbprint.

And yet—both things can be true.

I can feel immense love and pride for my niece and her accomplishments while my own world feels messy, loud, painful, and frustrating. I won’t fall into woe is me. This is my life. It is complicated and exhausting and sometimes downright ridiculous. There are days I want to strangle someone (figuratively… mostly). But then there are days when I glance in the rearview mirror and realize how far I’ve come.

I’ve survived every single thing I thought would break me.
That survival rate? 100%.

Am I the same person I once was? Absolutely not. But isn’t that the point? Life is about the becoming. About collecting skills, wisdom, scars, and stories. About learning how to stand back up. About making the world a little better where we can—just like my lovely niece is already doing.

And yes, you’d better believe I can still recite the 4-H pledge, parts of the FFA Creed, and the Girl Scout Promise.

Here’s to the becoming in 2026.
Love and light, y’all 🕯️

Christmas Togetherness: Embracing Love and Laughter

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

Christmas This Year

This Christmas season started off a bit heavy for me. I’ll be honest — I was sad for quite a bit, pretty much right up until our family’s Christmas Eve celebration.

That night, I sat at the end of the kitchen table and turned my head toward the living room as the littles opened their gifts. The sound that filled the house — the giggles, the pure laughter of children — there truly isn’t a better sound in the world. I teared up for a moment because that right there is exactly why I came.

I thought to myself, Mom and Daddy would be proud. They must be smiling down on us, because this—this togetherness, this joy—is all they ever wanted for us: to be together, to be present in each other’s lives, and to genuinely enjoy it.

Once the kids finished opening their gifts, it was the adults’ turn to shine as we mingled and prepared for our “Chinese Christmas” gift exchange. It was a blast — there were surprises, steals, laughter, and that wonderful mix of chaos and cheer that only family can create.

Then my sisters introduced a new game — one where you pass a gift left or right as a silly story is told, customized with everyone’s names. Each player put in a dollar, and a “Golden Ticket” prize would go to the winner, collecting the cash from everyone’s entry. It was silly and fun and full of laughter, just the way it should be.

My youngest got a few really thoughtful gifts this year, and at one point, he realized he only has two more years left of being “one of the kids.” That hit me — it made me pause and reflect. I have seven kids I call my own: five I gave birth to and two girls I’ve loved like my own for years. Four of them now have incredible partners — kind, caring, compassionate individuals who truly see who my children are and love them, flaws and all.

Even with a few behind-the-scenes hiccups (let’s just say there was a grocery order debacle, a brief moment of running out of gas, and yes, my husband losing his job), it was still a blessed Christmas.

Because at the end of the day, being surrounded by love, laughter, and the people who matter most — that’s what Christmas is all about.

Why Emotional Labor Deserves Recognition

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

The Cost of Being Unpaid

I often feel invisible. Not unseen in a dramatic way—but quietly, persistently taken for granted.

My empathy, my sympathy, my knowledge, and the countless things I offer other human beings move through the world without acknowledgment. I do not get paid to cook nourishing meals. I do not earn a wage for listening while someone vents, or for offering advice, or for helping untangle problems that aren’t mine. There is no paycheck for being available, for showing up emotionally, for holding space.

And yet, these things take time. They take energy. They take experience.

I have knowledge. I have lived enough life to understand nuance, to adapt, to learn quickly, to respond with compassion and clarity. I share all of it freely—especially with family. I give because I care, because connection matters to me, because helping feels natural. But because there is no monetary value attached to my time, no salary or hourly rate, it often feels as though my worth is somehow less.

Less than my sisters.
Less than anyone who earns money doing things.

I know—logically—that my skills have value. I know that emotional intelligence, adaptability, and lived experience are not insignificant. But where do they fit on a wage scale? What number do you assign to being the person others rely on? Why does value seem to exist only when it can be measured in dollars?

If I stopped doing all the things I normally do—if I were no longer available, no longer the listener, the helper, the cook, the steady presence—what then? Would the absence finally make the value visible? Or would it simply be filled by someone else, still unpaid, still unacknowledged?

Americans are relentlessly committed to monetizing every moment. A hobby can’t just be enjoyable—it has to become a side hustle. Creativity must be productive. Passion must be profitable. But a hobby stops being fun the moment it becomes a have to instead of a want to. When joy is turned into obligation, something essential is lost.

So I keep circling back to the same painful question:
If I am not valuable because I do not earn money… then what does that say about all the work that keeps people going but never appears on a balance sheet?

Maybe the problem isn’t my worth.
Maybe the problem is a system that only recognizes value when it can be billed, sold, or taxed.

And maybe being unpaid does not mean being unworthy—no matter how often the world makes it feel that way.

Embracing Life’s Little Moments Amidst Grief

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

December Weight

December can feel heavy for so many people. The shorter days, the longer nights, and the reminders of the year coming to a close — it all seems to make every emotion sit a little closer to the surface. This week, that heaviness settled on me in a way I didn’t expect.

It started with a phone call from my sister. Her elderly neighbor had passed away on October 27th, and only this week did his son let her know. The news was sad, but what came next hit even harder.

On Wednesday, my brother called. His voice had that tone — the one that makes your stomach drop before you even hear the words. “Are you sitting down?” he asked. Then he said it: Carla passed away Sunday night in her sleep.

Carla. Thirty-one years old. The same Carla who, less than a year ago, stepped up to raise her older sister Leticia’s two young girls after Leticia died unexpectedly. And now, only eleven and a half months later, my cousin Patricia has lost two children. And before that… she had already lost a son to SIDS. A husband in an accident. Her dad. Her mom. Her stepdad.

My God. My heart aches at the thought of losing even one child — the idea of losing three is unimaginable.

In that heaviness, as I thought about the weight my cousin carries, my own memories surfaced too: the house fire in 2006, losing my brother-in-law in 2013 at age 37, the losses and upheavals that shaped me. But even as those memories resurfaced, I reminded myself: I survived those things. I came through them — maybe a little ragged, maybe a little stronger, or maybe somehow both.

And in that reflection came the question: How?
How do any of us get through things like this?

The answer is simpler than we expect:
One moment at a time.

That’s it. One breath, one task, one hour, one day at a time. Sometimes numb, sometimes terrified, sometimes held together by routine or prayer or pure grit — but still moving. Patricia is still going to work because she says it’s the only thing that feels normal while the rest of her life feels like a nightmare she can’t wake from. We all cling to something when the world tilts.

With all this swirling in my mind, I found myself returning to gratitude — not in comparison to anyone else’s pain, but in recognition of what is good, what is present, right now. We take so much for granted.

So look around:
Do you have a roof over your head?
Food to eat?
A job?
People who love you?
People you love?

Life isn’t perfect — not for any of us. Social media might make it seem like everyone else is living some shiny, effortless highlight reel, but real life is made of the moments that don’t make the cut.

So be grateful. Be gentle with yourself. Don’t overlook the small things that are actually the big things. And try not to let worry steal the few moments of peace you can claim.

Put your phone down a little more this season. Get some real face-to-face time. Call that old friend. Send a message to someone you’ve been thinking about. You never know — it might be exactly the medicine you need.

Embracing Life’s Imperfections: A Thanksgiving Reflection

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

A Week of Imperfect Consistency, Sweet Memories, and Deep Gratitude

I’ll be honest — consistency was not my strong suit this week. I had every intention of sticking to my routine, but life had other plans. A doctor’s appointment, Thanksgiving preparations, a Friendsgiving I was supposed to attend, and even a memorial service… it all stacked up quickly.

In the end, I didn’t make it to either the Friendsgiving or the memorial service. I woke up with a migraine — one of those “thank you, fall weather” migraines that completely derail the whole day. So instead of people and plans, I surrendered to rest when my body demanded it.

And once the fog lifted, I did what brings me comfort: I headed to the kitchen.

With apples, pumpkins, and pears staring me down, I rolled up my sleeves and lost myself in the rhythm of cooking for the people I love. Apple pie. Pear tart. Pumpkin pie. As the dough came together under my hands, memories surfaced — childhood flashes of rolling out pie crusts with my mom and my Granny. Bittersweet moments. Warm hands guiding mine. Laughter. Flour everywhere.

I thought of them as my crust came out buttery, flaky, and honestly… perfect. That quiet pride felt like a little hug from the past.

Then came the Lemon Delight — the recipe taught to me by my former mother-in-law, Debbie, who learned it from her mother-in-law, Margaret. Generations of women passing down love through something as simple as dessert. I could hear Debbie’s voice reminding me that you just can’t mess up Lemon Delight. It’s simple, forgiving, and always delicious — a lot like the lessons she gave me.

As I stirred, baked, and tasted my way through the day, I found myself whispering quiet gratitude:

Here’s to my Mom.
Here’s to my Granny.
Here’s to Debbie and Margaret.
Here’s to the women who came before me, who made the dishes their families loved, and who poured themselves — heart and soul — into every meal.

Today, I honor them. I thank them for the love, the memories, the laughter, and the skills that let me move through a kitchen with confidence and purpose. Even in the darkest seasons of life, feeding the people I love anchors me. It gives me something solid to stand on.

I hope your Thanksgiving was full of warmth, good food, gentle moments, and the people who matter most. And if your week looked a little imperfect like mine? That’s okay. Life happens.

Here’s to being present anyway — in the kitchen, in the memories, and in the moments that matter.