Don't Tell the Kids... We're Half-Baked Too

Okay mama, pour the coffee (or the wine, no judgment here) because this one's a ride. We're getting into ALL of it this week — like the fact that we're suddenly the moms holding the menu at arm's length and using our phones as little telescopes because nobody wants to admit they need readers yet. We're talking about the time a certain THC kombucha at a Miami get-together sent us straight into a wormhole, the shirtless WhatsApp profile pic from the gym coach that had us spiraling for two days, and that thing we ALL do where we fake sick to get out of plans (please tell me it's not just us).We get into the real stuff too — the mental load that lives rent-free in our brains while our husbands are blissfully thinking about exactly nothing, the guilt and grace of single-mom seasons when there's no backup coming, and how to discipline kids when, let's be honest, we're not exactly the most disciplined humans ourselves. We talk about apologizing to our kids when we lose it, raising boys to actually be good men in a world that's a little confused about what that even means anymore, and why date night is non-negotiable.Plus there's a pile of clothes named Timmy, a prank text involving a fake detective, and the time one of our husbands told the kids mom used to have a girlfriend (she did not). It's messy, it's honest, it's everything we'd tell you over coffee if the kids weren't around. Hit play and hang out with us. xo