Motherhood from where I stand: God gave me three girls

By Aarean Jergensen

One morning I woke up and suddenly I was a mother of three! Where did the time go?! It was like all my life I dreamt of the day I would have little girls, dresses, and pig tails; sisters for life. They would be the best of friends, entertain one another for hours on end playing dolls and house, library and school. They would have that bond that I had with my four sisters (yes lots of estrogen in my home!). A bond that was like nothing you could compare.

 When we found out our third was a girl (I was about 110% sure it was a boy--goes to show I’m not as in tune as I thought *wink wink*), I remember being so surprised at people's reactions. They would say, “Oh your poor husband,” or “Well now you need to have four to try for that boy!” or the best was, “Oh I’m so sorry!” I was floored by how people automatically assumed the worst with having a third girl, like it was something to feel bad about! I reassured each person who would make a snarky comment that we were so excited and that my husband was over the moon…but then again like I say, only the best dads get all girls (maybe I am a bit biased but I do feel that way in my heart of hearts.)*

So back to the day when I dreamed of having a house full of girls--it is now a reality. It’s almost surreal. Don’t get me wrong, I go through moments of “what did I get myself into?” Moments of doubting myself as a mother. Moments of feeling utterly overwhelmed and unworthy of such perfect little babies that God had blessed me with. I remember right after my second baby, feeling all sorts of those “after baby” emotions.

I vividly remember feeling sorry for myself. One day my husband came home after work with this gorgeous bouquet of flowers and I just burst into tears. It was just one of those days…being inside all day long, changing diapers, and leaking from every hole in my body. It all just sent me a wee bit over the edge.

That night, I watched a video titled “Motherhood: an Eternal Partnership with God” by Jeffrey R. Holland. It was a message that I needed to hear. My eyes swelled with tears, no longer caused by my little pity party, but instead tears of utter gratitude. The video ended, and I sat there. I could see my reflection in the now black computer screen. I looked tired, so very tired. My hair was in a greasy high bun for the third day in a row, and makeup, well who has time for that, right?!

Suddenly, I realized this reflection of a “I just want one good night's sleep” mama became someone who I admired. I am a mother. I am a teacher to these little girls of mine. I am an example of goodness. I am a leader and a motivator. I am a maid, a chef, and a nurse to these little munchkins. And this my friends is when I had an “ah-ha” moment. All these things will end. My girls will grow up and the bags under my eyes from sleepless nights will disappear (hopefully!). The endless toy pick up and diaper changing will be that of the past. So enjoy it. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Now looking back I am so grateful for that moment. It was like the heavens opened a bit and shed some true clarity on my role as a mother. A role that I was wallowing in self pity over suddenly became the most important role I could ever ask for in this life.

I went to bed that night sliding my ever so exhausted body into my nice clean sheets, excited to get a little shut eye. Suddenly, the cry of hunger came from the bassinet, and I thought, “Thank you Heavenly Father, for that sweet cry.”

[*I have to agree with Aarean--I grew up in an all girl family and my dad is amazing!]

Aarean Jergensen grew up in Southern California and met Mr. Right her senior year in high school. Now almost 15 years later and living in Utah, they are the parents of three little girls. With a degree in creative advertising, she worked for several ad agencies before starting her freelance business six years ago. She blogs on a beautiful little piece of the internet called Color Issue. She also has a gorgeous (and extremely colorful!) Instagram account: @colorissue. She loves meeting new and amazing friends through her blog and social media.

Motherhood from where I stand: Three times I was schooled by my toddler

By Thalia Holmes

Three times I was schooled by my toddler. And by schooled I mean it in every sense of the word. Think gangsta-style “homie, you been schooled, yo” all the way to Jane Austen’s “she was well-schooled in the art of [whatever]” and everything in between. There are too many occasions to recount, so I’ve picked three times my almost-two-year old has helped me get over myself. Hint: they’re never in ways I’ve chosen.

1. That one time when she was born. 

Yes, Amelia taught me my first lesson while still in the birth canal. Here’s the background: I am one of five children, all naturally-birthed. My sister is a doula, and she, too, has birthed five children vaginally. My sister-in-law is a doula. My husband’s cousin is – wait for it! – a doula. I clearly had a support system second to none. I was reasonably fit and I have the staying power of a bulldog on a fresh steak.

My husband and I had done a pre-natal course, I had versed myself in hypnobirthing and Namasted my way through preggy yoga until the very moment the contractions started. This was going down, yo, and it was going to be good.

Except it wasn’t. Twenty-four hours into labour my contractions were three minutes apart, and lasting for at least a minute at a time. My doula was congratulating me on having “held out so long” before we went to the hospital. I fully expected to be a few short hours away from meeting my bub.

I’ll always remember the look exchanged between the doula and the midwife after they ‘checked’ me once we arrived. It was a combination of concern and disappointment.

“Well,” said the midwife, in a tone that was touchingly fake, “You’re only – I mean, you’re already two centimetres dilated.”

It went on for another 14 hours before I was told I’d need a Caesar. And there I was, naked from the waist down, throwing up on the operating table, having my bikini wax scrutinised by a group of doctors I’d never met before. When the baby came out, we had only a moment for the “skin on skin” I’d so anticipated, before she was whisked away to the oxygen machine.

And that was Amelia’s first lesson to me: that no matter how well I gear up for life, it has a way of reminding me someone else is in charge. Note to self: it’s not me.

2. That one time with the toilet. 

Fast forward nine months, and Amelia had become one of the most gregarious, busiest little critters you’ve ever met. (I swear every mother thinks that, but I’ve had it confirmed by outside sources). I walk in to the bathroom and discover her feverishly scrubbing the inside of the toilet bowl with a face cloth (yes, the yucky part; allow your worst imaginings to take flight). Before I can persuade her to desist, she whips out the dripping cloth with great alacrity and pops it into her mouth.

At that moment, I can’t decide whether to laugh or rip the cloth from her mouth and force a gallon of Mr Muscle [a brand of bathroom cleaner] down her throat to ensure she vomits. Luckily, I went with the former. I laughed til the tears ran down my face, then I let her do it three more times until I got it perfectly on camera. So I could share it with the friends whom I knew hoped wouldn’t judge me. Which apparently now includes you.

And that was Amelia's second lesson to me, adopted from the words of my sister: In motherhood, if you don't laugh, you'll cry; and nobody likes a crybaby. 

3. That one time when she did the adulting. 

This takes me back just a month or so. I’d been working some long hours, standing in for the day editor of a busy news website. Two of the biggest stories of the year had just dropped so things had gotten hectic. On top of that, my husband had been overseas for work. My daughter got sick, and then, of course, so did I.

There were two crazy nights where I stayed up all night with a sick crying baby, left for my 7am editing shift, had to perform like a demon for eight straight hours, came home, did all the “mom” stuff and then repeated the process. On the last afternoon, I arrived home shaking with fever, so sick and exhausted I felt almost delirious. I collapsed on my bed and felt so overwhelmed and relieved that I just starting sobbing.

There in that moment of dizziness, pain and overwhelm, I felt two little warm arms around my neck and a tiny nose nuzzling my cheek. Amelia pulled the dummy [pacifier] out of her mouth with a pop and began to cover me in wet sloppy kisses. “Mommy, Mommy,"  she murmured softly, stroking my hair with her chubby fingers.

And I suspected then that this was the biggest lesson I’d learned so far. That the love of a child is so honest and pure that it disregards vulnerability. Or, to quote James Baldwin: “Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without, and know we cannot live within.”

Thalia Holmes grew up in the tiny African kingdom of Swaziland and now lives in South Africa with her husband Shaun and daughter Amelia. She started her career as a black economic empowerment consultant but shifted into journalism in 2012, an industry she is passionate about. She writes and edits for one of Africa's most respected weekly newspapers from home while looking after her daughter. She absolutely cherishes the privilege of writing, but nothing beats the gift of being called mom.

Motherhood from where I stand: Moms can follow their dreams too

I'm sure many if not most of you have either heard of Whimsy Tails or seen pictures of those adorable mermaid and shark tail blankets (and now mermaid swaddles and swimwear!) floating around the internet and social media. If by some miracle you haven't seen them, you NEED to check them out, trust me. I'm lucky enough to be friends with the creator and owner of Whimsy Tails, Alexia Sotelo. Our moms were best friends before we were born, so naturally we were friends from the womb and preschool besties. During our grown-up years I was lucky enough to have Alexia take all our family photos when she lived in California. Yes, she's an amazing photographer too! 

Alexia grew up in Redondo Beach and Torrance, California dancing her ballerina feet off. She met her husband Jeff at BYU where she studied Marriage, Family, and Human Development and Psychology. They've been married for 10 years and have three cute kidlets: Tyson (8) and twins Layla and Kira (5). I have never seen a pregnant mom of twins look as amazing as Alexia did by the way. Criminal, I tell you. They've lived in Utah for the past four and half years, but she still considers herself a California girl through and through.

I admire Alexia so much for following her dreams while being a busy mom to three small kids, particularly since finding and pursuing a passion is something I think about often and still struggle to incorporate in my own life. I asked her a few questions about how she found her passion, mustered the courage to start two businesses, and what advice she has for moms who are still searching for their dream. She had a lot of encouragement to share and it's refreshing that someone as multi-talented and beautiful inside and out as Alexia is also so down to earth and relatable. 

How and when did you find your passion for photography? Were you self taught or did you learn from someone?

My passion for photography came after my first child was born. I remember wanting to purchase an entry level DSLR camera to have nicer quality photos of my son. I quickly became obsessed with documenting and found myself staying up way too late researching everything I could find on the internet that would teach my about my camera and photography.  There is so much information out there. With the information I was able to find on the internet coupled with a lot of trial and error, I was able to teach myself how to use my camera and Photoshop.

How and when did you find your passion for sewing? When did you know you wanted it to be more than a hobby?

Like photography, I found my passion for sewing after my twin daughters were born. I remember seeing so many cute things on Pinterest for little girls and when I would click on them it would take me to a DIY tutorial or blog post. I remember thinking how great it would be to be able to make all of these cute things I kept seeing. There are so many creative and talented people out there. I was so amazed. My mom had an old sewing machine she never used so I asked her if I could have it and once again I started staying up way too late searching for tutorials and blog posts and YouTube videos about sewing. I have the type of personality where I can obsess over one thing until I feel like I have gotten a pretty good grasp on it. I never really wanted sewing to become more than just a hobby. I had many friends and family encouraging me to open an Etsy shop but it just wasn't something I was really interested in. 

Tell me a little about the creation of Whimsy Tails. Where did you get the idea and how did you decide to turn it into a business? What steps did you take?

A few days before my twin daughters turned four, I saw a quilt a sewing friend of mine made and I remember thinking how beautiful it was. It reminded me of fish scales. My daughters recently saw The Little Mermaid for the first time and they loved it so I got to thinking how it would be pretty neat if I could make them a mermaid quilt for their birthday. We were actually at the movie theater when all of these ideas were coming to my head so I started writing notes in my cell phone so I wouldn't forget.

That night I went to Joann's and bought fabric to start on their quilts and by morning I came up with a mermaid blanket/sleeping bag. My girls LOVED their blankets. I took a photo of them and posted it on my FB and IG pages and got an overwhelming response from my friends and family. Many were asking if I would make them one. Everyone was so encouraging and supportive and telling me I needed to start selling them. It was pretty overwhelming but with all the encouragement I decided to create a website using a free Big Cartel template and within two days I had a website up and was taking preorders on the blankets. Within a few hours I had already sold about 40 blankets so I had to stop taking orders. I was so scared I wouldn't be able to make that many by the time they needed to ship. One of my friends shared my website on her FB page and it went viral. It was nuts. I ended up with an inbox of over 200 emails of people asking how they can order a blanket. That's when I knew I needed to figure something out and turn this into a business. I knew there was no way I could sew these blankets myself and needed to find help.

I had no idea what I was doing or where to start. I googled local sew shops and manufacturers and found one about 30 minutes from my house. I set up an appointment and met with them the next day. With the money I made from the preorders I sold I purchased all the fabric and materials needed to make the blankets. I made the first 40 blankets myself while trying to get everything in place with the local manufacturer to start sewing all future orders. It took a couple of months but when I was comfortable with how things were working out with the manufacturer I opened up preorders again. I took preorders and used that money once again to purchase all the fabric and materials needed to make my next batch of blankets.

My parents actually loaned me $8,000 dollars to start my business if I needed it but I never used it and paid them back right away. By doing preorders I was able to use that money to start my business and not ever touch any of our personal money or savings or my parents money. Eventually I made enough money to not have to sell my blankets as preorders and have a room in my house full of inventory. That didn't last long though. My manufacturer wasn't able to keep up with the orders I was receiving and I had to start selling as preorders again. Luckily, my customers didn't mind waiting but it made things pretty stressful. I wouldn't say I am naturally business minded so I had to really learn and teach myself as I went. It was pretty scary.    

Were there certain people in your life whose confidence and support convinced you to follow your dream of starting your own business? Were you ever nervous or scared about putting yourself out there? Where did you get your moxie and drive?

All of my friends and family were supportive and encouraging. They encouraged me to start my businesses when I really didn't want to. I have always been very afraid of failure and putting myself out there to fail in public was extremely frightening. Everything with Whimsy Tails happened so quickly though I feel like it didn't give me a chance to dwell on the fact that I could fail at this. 

What is the hardest part about balancing motherhood and starting/running your own business? Any tips on how you do it?

I'm still working on balancing motherhood and my business. This is actually something I really struggle with and feel lots of guilt sometimes. I am always wishing I could be happy putting all my time into being a mother and a wife, but I'm just not. I have to have a creative outlet or I find myself miserable. Why can't I be happy just being a mom? I am blessed my husband has a job where I don't have to work outside the home and I can focus my time and energy on my precious little ones, yet I choose to share that time with my business.

There are days I feel extremely guilty and other days where I realize this business I have created has helped me become a better mom. When I feel like I have something of my own whether it be a hobby or a business I am a happier person which makes me a better mom and wife. Having a balance between work and home is definitely a struggle but as my business continues to grow I have learned how to balance the two. I am a morning person so I wake up before everyone else in my family which allows me a couple of hours of alone time to work on my business. My daughters are in preschool 3 days a week for 2 hours so I usually spend that time packaging orders or responding to emails.

I would be lying if I said I only worked on my business while my kids are sleeping or in school. There are many many times I am working on my business while my kids are with me. My daughters have had to make many trips to the manufacturer to pick up finished blankets. They have had to make trips to the post office with me just about every day. They have helped me sort inventory and package orders. There have definitely been times where they have complained about this and have given me a wake up call that I need to balance work and family better. It is always a work in progress but I feel we are getting there.

I think it's great my children can see not only their father works hard to provide for his family but their mother does as well. I hope they are learning to follow your dreams and anything is possible but it takes a lot of hard work and dedication.

Do you set aside specific time for work? What limits do you set (if any)? 

I haven't really set any specific limits but I try to be sure I am constantly aware of how my kids and husband are feeling. If I am spending too much of my time working I can usually tell because I start to get impatient. My kids don't necessarily act out more than usual but I start to get annoyed by little things that wouldn't usually annoy me. I have gotten pretty good at recognizing this and will take a step back and do something fun with the kids. I will put the business on hold and take the kids to lunch and the park or to a movie or to 711 to grab a slurpee and a treat. Sometimes a few hours of time away is all that is needed to get back on track.

What is your next plan for Whimsy Tails or any other business ventures in the works (if you're willing to share!)?

I wish I had a plan to share! This whole thing is still such a huge learning experience for me. I kind of just take it day by day. At this point I really don't have any big future business plans and just plan to ride out this experience as long as it will let me and is beneficial to my family. 

What advice do you have for mothers who want something more in life but aren't sure what their dream is?

Growing up I never knew exactly what I wanted to be or what I wanted to go to school for. It wasn't until after having my kids that I discovered what my passions were in life. If it weren't for them I wouldn't have my love for photography and sewing. Don't feel guilty for taking time to explore new hobbies. I think sometimes we feel if we are spending time we could be with our children on our hobbies we are not being the best mothers we can be. I honestly feel this is the furthest thing from the truth. Yes, my hobbies have taken away time that I could have been spending with my children but it has also brought us together. My daughters have their own sewing machines now and love to sew and create with me. 

What advice do you have for women who know what their dream is but are either too scared or too busy to pursue it?

Go for it! You will have successes but you will also have many failures along the way. Those failures will make you stronger and you will learn from them and do better the next time. I have always been afraid of failure but I have learned through my business that it's really not that big of a deal. Pick yourself back up and keep walking forward. 


Thank you so much to Alexia for taking the time to share her experience turning her hobbies into passions into businesses. Isn't that the dream life? I know I'm inspired by her example and I'm sure many of you are too. Major #momsalute! I can't wait to see what she does next. Now go buy your mermaid tail blankets!

Motherhood from where I stand: The Mom Advice Compulsion

By Sylvia Bass

(Note: I've blog stalked Sylvia for a while now and she has become one of my mommy idols, always with positive perspective and full of good humor when it comes to mothering [many!] small children. I'm so excited to share some of her thoughts with you.)

I saw it on my Facebook feed: a picture of a wailing, toothless baby with the caption, "poor baby is teething hard." Brace yourself, I thought, you're about to be barraged with a flood of unsolicited mom advice! 

Sure enough, a few hours later there were about 20 comments under the picture, and every comment was a mom giving her 2 cents on how to alleviate teething pain and discomfort. Apparently, all she had to do was buy him an amber necklace, dose him with Tylenol, dose him with Ibuprofen, give him some Hyland's teething tablets, let him gnaw on an ice cube wrapped in a towel, give him a strawberry terry teether, give him cold dill pickles, give him Camilla drops, dip a metal spoon in ice water and let him suck on it, give him frozen yogurt tubes, give him teething gel, and give him a frozen wet washcloth.  (I can't make this stuff up, y'all!) Keep in mind that all this unsuspecting new mom did was observe publicly that her baby was teething. And that was all the provocation needed for a deluge of mommy teething advice.

All of us moms do it. The second I see the hint of an online mention of cradle cap, or diaper rash, or potty training issues, I can barely resist my urge to take to my keyboard in a feverish frenzy of unsolicited advice. Why do we do that? It's like we can't help ourselves. It's an irresistible mommy compulsion. Some mothers get irate at all of the unsolicited advice, and I can't say I blame them. The sheer volume of mom advice out there is overwhelming and confusing, and motherhood is overwhelming and confusing enough. It gets even worse when moms start bickering with each other about which is the "right way" and "wrong way" of doing things. Some go as far as to say that anyone who doesn't follow their way of parenting is guilty of bad parenting. And then, as we all know, the mommy wars commence and things get ugly.

On the other hand, any unsolicited mom advice thrown my way has never bothered me. In fact, most of it has been invaluable to me. And I like to think that is why we do it. We, as moms, all know how mind-numbingly difficult this mommy gig can be, particularly in those early years. And we want to help. We wish someone had told us that miraculous trick to get the baby to sleep through the night and spared us months of agony. Even though this community of mothers can be petty and combative, we can also be something beautiful. We can help each other through the hard, nay, practically impossible times. We can lift each other up out of the depths of despair with some much needed support and encouragement. Every time I seek motherhood advice on social media, countless moms are there for me. And sure enough, one of those pearls of wisdom usually turns out to do the trick.

That is a lot of widespread solidarity. So, the next time I see a mom bemoan something about motherhood online, and the predictable outpouring of unsolicited mom advice that follows, I'm not going to roll my eyes. I'm going to say a silent prayer for that mom and thank the Lord for this community. Because we're all in this together, mamas. And together we are strong.

Sylvia Bass is a former attorney who has exchanged practicing law for the domestic life. She is Catholic, wife to her attorney husband, and mother to four girls, ages four and under. She enjoys classic literature and pretending that she can fashionably style children. She blogs at Tales from the Mommy Trenches.

Motherhood from where I stand: "Yes I work full time, but..."

By Britta DeMartini

Ashley asked me to write a guest post on her blog from the perspective of a working mom. I was excited to do it – until I realized that meant I actually had to decide what I think and feel about being a working mom, and I’m still very much figuring that out. Even if I had a solid opinion, I’m sure it – like my job and my children – would be different by tomorrow. So, I will simply share some of my thoughts and experiences in juggling work and motherhood, and on feeling okay about doing so. Whether it’s completely foreign or totally relatable, I think there’s value in sharing our stories.

Just to be clear, I’m not being saluted, I’m being given a chance to explain myself. That was a joke – kind of. I feel like one of the first things you need when you’re a full-time working mom is your line that justifies why you’re working:

“Yes, I work full time, but I can do a lot of it from home.”

“Yes, I work full time, but my husband lost his job.”

“Yes, I work full time, but I have a wonderful nanny.”

“Yes, I work full time, but we take nice family vacations with the money I make.”

“Yes, I work full time, but I carry a heavy boulder up a hill each night to punish myself for it.”

When I had my first baby I found myself saying a lot of, “Yes, I’m going to continue working, but…”. I’m not sure if I was really being judged as harshly as I thought, but whether or not other people demand it I think we demand of ourselves some sort of justification for why we are spending time working instead of being with our children, especially when it is not an absolute financial necessity. Even more so when our children are very young. But don’t mistake me pointing out the need for justification as me dismissing it. A mom diverting time and attention away from her family for a significant part of each week is no small thing - I know this because I run these justifications through my head frequently to make sure they add up. Being a working mom takes logistical and mental juggling, and some very real sacrifice. I do everything I can to make sure the brunt of that is born by me and my husband, with as little as possible splashing up on my kids: Luca, my toe-headed wild man who will be 3 in June, and Laney, my happy, chubby 6-month old baby girl.

I can do a lot of work from home, by the way. I’m a professor at the UC San Diego School of Medicine, where I do research in public health and behavioral interventions for chronic disease prevention. It’s an intense publish-or- perish environment; my career success is entirely dependent on peer review – “peers” in this case being people who comb over every grant and manuscript I write searching for flaws to expose and punish me for. It can be mentally and emotionally taxing, but no two days are the same, and I get enormous freedom in my schedule and in the work I actually do.

As any parent who has worked from home can probably tell you, it’s not as great as it sounds. Because you don’t have physical boundaries, you have to enforce boundaries elsewhere. “Mama is in the other room but not available right now” is a much harder concept to grasp than “Mama isn’t here right now.” It takes a lot of self discipline to hear crying or laughing in the other room and not come out, and even more self discipline to put my kids to bed at night and go back to my computer instead of collapsing on the couch (I’m batting around 500 on that one these days). I also have a job that is based on getting things done, not by the number of hours you log. This is useful in that I get my work done efficiently and have more time for my family. However, it’s also awful. My husband has no reason to think about work at all when he’s not there. I, on the other hand, can think about work during breakfast, in the shower, on vacation, when I’m reading books to my kids, or as I fall asleep at night. Again, I have to create boundaries. I schedule hours for myself, about half of it in my office, in order to prevent the ice cream sundae that is my life – full of interesting, meaningful work, wonderful children, an amazing husband, a beautiful city to call home, and much more – from being covered with a thick, fudgy layer of guilt.

The system works well most of the time. But there are a lot of questions that stay with me as I slowly fall asleep at night:

Does me having a job require unfair sacrifices of my children?

Is more time with me always better for them? (Do they enjoy a break from me as much as I enjoy a break from them??)

Am I able to do both of these jobs well simultaneously?

The last one is a tough one. I know I’m able to do both of these jobs simultaneously; boxes get checked off, meetings are attended, children are fed and alive. But am I able to do them both well? My job isn’t one that I can do in a half-hearted, mediocre way – at some point you either get tenure or you get fired – and it’s not the kind of job you get to by being happy with something other than your best effort. Who wants to do a job that they can’t do well? Especially when, as in my case, you’re audacious enough to believe your job is important.

But of course, the evaluations of our multiple life roles don’t carry equal weight. You could be called a bad teacher, a bad housekeeper, a bad driver, a bad accountant, a bad cook, a bad writer, a bad citizen, or a bad mother; most of these could be laughed at in casual conversation, others might be unfortunate, but only one is tragic, and feels like an evaluation of the entire person, not just something they do. The costs of being a bad or even mediocre mother are too high to treat the possibility flippantly, which is why these questions circle in my head at night. But now and then I stumble on some that are unexpected: are my children actually enriched by me working? Is it possible that my job actually makes me a better mom? Are we all better off – not just financially, but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually – by me having a job?

There’s one way that I firmly believe my kids have been blessed by me working, and its name is Dad. My husband doesn’t work a typical 9-5 job either, he works at a hospital so it’s lots of irregular hours. So while I do the lion’s share of childcare on evenings and weekends, our childcare during workweek hours is pretty evenly divided between me, Alan, and a babysitter. This means my kids get lots of time with dad without me around, which is great for all of us. I don’t leer over his shoulder as he changes a diaper or check that he follows a schedule that I’ve invented. We do things differently, but dad’s way is just as valid as mom’s. (Hopefully he isn’t reading this; I know he will quote that back to me often…). Having the kids on his own 12-16 hours per week has helped him not only know how to care for his kids, but really know his kids. The other day I was making Luca a sandwich, and Alan commented, “he really does better if you cut it up a little smaller than that.” Now, I’m sure if I was out of the home 40 hours per week and he was the primary care taker, a comment like that would stab. But in this case, I just smiled a little and sliced the sandwich up smaller. Dad knows lunches and scooter rides and playgrounds and the exact technique to get Laney to take a bottle; mom knows breakfasts and books in bed and art projects and that Luca likes the inside of croissants more than the outside. I still log more childcare hours and Alan logs more working hours outside the home, but we’ve found a relative balance that has enormously blessed our children, Alan (I think), and certainly me.

Of course, that time isn’t free: if you’re doing the math, you’ve worked out that it means Alan and I get less time together. I won’t deny that that’s been challenging. But it has forced us to work on being purposeful in our time together and doing more with less. Again, we make boundaries.

And what about me – does having a job make me a better mother? Sometimes. Honestly, I think having both work and motherhood to juggle keeps me balanced. When I’m losing a battle of wills with a toddler over a diaper change, I remind myself that there are doctoral students who do everything I tell them to do, and when said toddler collapses in a crying puddle because he wanted the PURPLE bowl instead of the GREEN one, I can remind myself that in an hour I will go do some analyses that are logical and predictable and sane. On the other side of the coin, my kids keep me very grounded. When I start feeling really smart, I invariably look down and find poop on me somewhere, and I have spent the majority of my conference calls lately hooked up to my breast pump. No matter how many times I use it the sensation of being a milked dairy animal never goes away. It’s nice to have a career with such defined goals and successes (publish this many papers in this quality of journal) when raising children can feel so abstract and haphazard. On the other hand, in a field where success and progress are hard fought for and come in sporadic spurts, it’s wonderful and buoying to have two children for whom the smallest daily happenings – sharing something, trying a new food, finishing a puzzle, or making a few marks on a paper – are triumphs worth celebrating.

There are days when things at work go really well and I can throw that energy into happy, focused playtime with my kids. There are days when things at work didn’t go so well and it leaves me depleted to deal with a messy house or a whiny child. But then there are those days when work was challenging or disappointing – when those students didn’t do what I asked or those analyses didn’t make sense at all – and I walk through the door to a running full-body hug from my little boy and a squealing happy shriek from my baby girl, and all seems right in the world. When I get overwhelmed and my “peers” deal me some harsh blows, I go on a walk with my kids, and the bruises become more superficial.

Of course, that’s all kind of self-centered. What about my kids? It would be delusional to assume they are completely unaffected by me working. With the way I’ve arranged my work, I firmly believe my kids don’t suffer from insufficient face-time with me. I want to teach my kids the value of hard work and doing something good in the world, and my job is one way I can do that. They do love their babysitter, and legitimately look forward to the 12 hours per week she spends with them. I think it’s good for kids to see their moms in multiple roles, and again, work is just one way to do that. They may be a bit young to grasp this now, but I also want them to appreciate that their mom saw a problem in the world, and dedicated a lot of herself to trying to make it better. And it may just be the guilt talking, but I do think they just need a break from me sometimes. We all seem to like each other more when we’re reunited than when we said goodbye.

Sometimes I know it is hard on them. A few weeks ago I was leaving for work in the morning and Luca cried and ran outside and got in my car so I would have to take him with me. My heart sank as mom-guilt filled the car. But the promise of a handful of raisins was all it took to happily lure him back inside. I try to remind myself of that often. Not just that raisins can solve all our problems, but that my kids really are quite happy and so far in their short lives have raisin-level problems. We all have rich, multi-scoop-sundae lives – I get to try to make the world healthier and throw myself completely into raising my beautiful children, they get time and attention from lots of people who love them, including weekday trips to the zoo with dad. As I go to sleep tonight, I will remind myself (once again) to keep the guilt away, and to cover my life with a rich caramel-y layer of joyful gratitude.

I think I’m hungry.

Britta and her husband Alan live in San Diego with their two children, Luca and Elena. Britta is an Assistant Professor of Family Medicine & Public Health at UC San Diego, where she got a Ph.D. in Health Psychology. She works to make healthier communities by promoting physical activity and reducing healthcare costs. Before she had children she traveled to six continents; these days she travels to the far corners of California (but is happy as long as there is a campground and hiking trails nearby). She appreciates good food, and can tell you the five best places to get bread pudding in the county (in order). Britta also loves writing and occasionally shares her thoughts and experiences on her own blog. She also wants everyone to know she is an excellent parallel parker. 

Motherhood from where I stand: Altered Expectations

By Sara Pendleton

It was 2:00 in the morning and I was still awake. They called it morning sickness, but of course I learned quickly that it is an all day, every day feeling of nausea coupled with many trips to the bathroom. On this particular night, I was lying on the bathroom floor crying, wondering when it would end.

From the first moment I could remember, I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to have a big family. I wanted the intense chaos, camaraderie, teamwork, and compassion that come from living under the same roof as six or seven other people bonded together by their loving parents. I wondered how many girls I would have, how many boys I would have, and I picked out all my favorite names. I played house and dreamt about how I would decorate their rooms. When I got married in my late 20s, I was eager to finally start this large family I had so desperately wanted. But then everything changed. Struggling immensely with near-constant vomiting, I didn't worry so much about this morning sickness being over but about having to make the decision over and over again to voluntarily go through this experience. I hoped that I was pregnant with twins or triplets so I could knock out my whole family in one pregnancy. For me, my morning sickness was not just a temporary illness; it was a crushing blow to a childhood dream.

Then when my beautiful daughter was born, she was very colicky and sent me spiraling. I sincerely asked mothers how they did it--how did they leave the house, how did they shower and get ready in the morning, how did they maintain not only a smile but their sanity? I struggled to get out the door in the morning with one baby--how in the world could you do it with one or more other children in tow?

I found going back to work a relief. I felt more relaxed and productive. I was happy to get up and going in the morning. I missed my daughter just enough that when I was with her it didn't seem like a burden, it was fun. I never took a moment with her for granted because I didn't seem tethered to the house or to her whimsy or will. She became my best buddy. I loved our family dynamic, but I knew she could benefit from a sibling. She is incredibly social, like me, and I think being an only child would be hard for her. The love that I felt for my daughter propelled me to decide to get pregnant one more time. (I know some mothers say they can do it again because they forget how hard it was. Believe me, I remember how painfully hard every minute was, but I got through knowing that it was the absolute last time I would do it.)

Fast forward to this year: my family welcomed our second and final child. My son has a much more easy going presence than my daughter, but I still know my family is complete. I wish that I could be the type of mother who could handle getting pregnant six times, raising six very different kids at different stages of life, and giving them all the individual attention they each need. But I've realized I can't and that's okay. I watch with admiration my friends and family with four or more children and how they are able to juggle the needs of each of their children. I am still learning how to do that with two, but I am comfortable with the dynamic of our little family of four and I know it strikes the right balance for me of being able to give each child the attention they need and deserve while also maintaining my sanity.

I've learned, through lots of tears along the way, that it is okay not to turn into the person you thought you'd become with the things you thought you'd have or want. It is okay to love working outside the home. It is ok to feel overwhelmed with one child and certainly more. I've learned to really listen to my instincts and not to make decisions based on what family, friends, or society expects from me. I am confident in our family size, and I think it will afford us opportunities with travel and other activities that my children would not otherwise have. I think if there's one thing I learned from this experience it is that each mom is different and is led to different choices for intelligent reasons, and we should support other moms in those decisions rather than judging their outcomes based on experiences we know nothing about.



Sara and her husband Zach have two children, daughter Madeleine and son Lennon. They call Salt Lake City, Utah home. The couple met in law school and in addition to wife and mother, Sara is a practicing attorney. She loves cooking and dreams of one spending retirement preparing gourmet breakfasts, lunches, and dinners in a professional at-home kitchen. Sara deserves much more than a mom salute for delivering baby Lennon, who weighed just a few ounces shy of 12 pounds at birth.

Motherhood from where I stand: Small Sacrifices

By Janine Doot, originally posted at A Handful of Peanuts

This morning as I walked briskly through my neighborhood, I talked to God. Walking alone provides me ample time to talk things out thoroughly. Today I talked to God about sacrifice. The subject itself has weighed heavily on my mind for some time, but it resurfaced yesterday around 1:15pm when I wanted to be napping but found myself cutting round circles for yesterday's afternoon "learning craft" that the girls would eventually use to create ice cream cones. You see, we were learning the letter "I" so it was the best my tired mind could come up with at the last minute.

I sat silently at my kitchen table, methodically cutting the pieces for the craft while listening to the girls giggle as they jumped high in the air on the trampoline. Everyday after lunch I think, "Maybe today they'll see my tired eyes and let me off the hook for learning," but everyday both girls excitedly ask me, "Mom, what are we doing for learning today? Are we painting? Are we using sponges? What letter is it?" I am not exaggerating even the slightest bit when I say my girls are very into learning. Like obsessively so. Yesterday was no different. And so I did what I always do and I wrote the letter in their individual notebooks for them to trace and I found the appropriate pages for them to work on in their respective workbooks and I came up with a craft for them to work on to round out the hour of learning.

I give up a potential hour of nap time/work time everyday to be with my girls. To teach them. To learn with them. Being with them is easy. I can't tell you how gratifying it is to watch them read or recognize letters and sounds, but it's the staying awake and alert during a time of day that tells my 27-week pregnant body that it's time to sleep that can make it hard.

But that's life, isn't it? I've decided life is about sacrifice. Everything else is just an appendage to it. Love, faith, honesty, kindness, bravery--all these things hinge on sacrifice. Whether we give up an hour of nap time or we save the last bite of a delicious treat for a hungry spouse or we refrain from yelling at a child who doesn't want to get ready for school, knowing it will only make things worse or we stay up a few extra minutes at night to talk to God or we push ourselves to exercise even though our bodies are sluggish--all these things are sacrifices. Everyday, all over the world people are sacrificing, and it's hard, and sometimes it hurts, but it's worth it.

I don't always see immediate returns or rewards for the sacrifices I make, but that's not what makes it worth it. I suppose if you live your life always looking for the return or reward then you don't really understand the purpose of sacrifice, and you'll end up a bit foolish when you realize you've completely missed the mark. What makes it worth it is that in the act of sacrificing, you give of yourself. You stretch, you bend, you morph. And with any luck, you become the person you are supposed to become.



Janine has been writing on her blog "A handful of peanuts" since 2007. She is a wife, a mother to 4 girls (and soon to be 1 boy!), a wannabe runner, a writer, and a buttermilk donut connoisseur. She always laughs when she tells people that motherhood did not come naturally for her in the beginning. She records her experiences and thoughts on her blog as often as life permits. She tries to be authentic and real in everything she does, and teaches her family to do the same.