I am more… I am as much as I want, need or choose to be. I am everything all at once and almost nothing at the exact same time.
I am stubborn and angry. My temper boils fast and runs hot.
But I love big. Completely. With my everything.
“People say I’m too much but I’ve never felt like I’m enough.”
There’s an insatiable hole inside of me—always wanting just a little bit more. Never feeling like I quite belonged anywhere.
Always trying harder but never fitting in. Nothing is ever good enough—and I think it goes back to never feeling seen or heard at home. I had to make a spectacle and roar just to get a seat at the table.
The Emptiness No One talks About When You’re Healing from Childhood Trauma
I still feel ‘empty’ sometimes. Like something’s missing and I can’t name it.
I try to fill the emptiness with noise and things and too much of everything—but it’s never the thing I need. It’s never enough because it’s never full acceptance. Just the pretty edges and shiny bits.
No one’s ever listening because they’re too busy talking over me. Explaining to me what I’m supposed to think, feel, and be. They set the standard based on stereotypes they’ve made up, and I’ve spent my entire life—masking, shrinking, and contorting—trying to fit into a world that was never designed for people like me.
A world built for people who never really knew me. Never cared to.
And somehow, somewhere along the way, I handed them the power to make me feel like not enough.
“I gave them the power. Well, I’m taking it all back.”
What Reparenting Yourself Actually Looks Like From the Inside
The work of reparenting yourself isn’t pretty or easy. There’s no pastel journal for this. No aesthetic morning routine.
It looks like trauma bombs going off when you least expect it or being triggered because your daughter paces and it sends you into a panic. Because when you were just a little girl, your dad would tower over you when he came home drunk and angry at the world.
Reparenting yourself looks like sitting inside your own discomfort long enough to ask—whose voice is that? And then realizing, it was never yours to begin with.
It looks like being as loud or quiet as you want to be. Not performing for a single person in the room.
It looks like spectacling in all of your own spectacular glory with zero apology or shame.
The journey of reparenting yourself is the decision—and it is a decision—that you are the only one who gets to decide if you are enough.
Only you can love yourself back to you.
I forgot that.
For so long, I was so busy taking care of everyone else’s needs that I nearly completely disappeared from my own life. I’ve let myself shrink to fit. I quieted myself for other people’s comfort. I went invisible to stay safe.
No more.
Stop Shrinking Yourself: You Were Never Too Much
I am not too much.
I never was.
I am just enough because there is only one me—and however I choose to show up is exactly right.
No, I don’t fit your expectations or mold.
Fuck your mold! I broke that bitch.
You are the one and only you who will ever exist on this earth. You are the expert in you. You are the main character in your own story and, don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Write it down. Put it on your mirror. Tattoo it on the insides of your eyelids if you have to.
Reclaiming Your Power When the World Has Tried to Take It
Be who you want to be. Not who others expect you to be.
Their expectations are cinder blocks around our necks and we’re drowning fast under the weight.
Let it go. Let them think whatever they want.
This is what reparenting yourself comes down to, at the very end of everything: the radical, terrifying, liberating act of deciding that their version of you is not the final word.
You are enough.
You are more than enough.
You always have been.
“You never needed their permission to take up space. You only ever needed yours.”
You Found This Page for a Reason
If you are somewhere in the middle of your own reparenting yourself journey—the messy, nonlinear , “why is this taking so long” part—you are in exactly the right place.
The TRUTH about Motherhood is where we talk about the things nobody else will say out loud. Subscribe now and never miss a post.
This approach builds resilience by allowing kids to experience natural consequences and problem-solve independently.
Open communication replaces monitoring, fostering trust and emotional coaching between parents and children.
Training wheels parenting strengthens connections, enabling children to seek guidance willingly while respecting their autonomy.
Ultimately, it shifts parenting from control to mentorship, preparing children to handle life’s obstacles confidently.
Remember when you taught your child to ride a bike? That moment when you knew they were ready, but your hands still gripped the seat a little too tightly? That’s exactly where I found myself as a mother—not with a bicycle, but with life itself. There was no new mother or parenting book for that so I’ve been winging it by the seat of my pants since 2005.
For years, I hovered. I anticipated. I solved problems before they even happened. I was the quintessential helicopter mom, and I wore that badge with pride. After all, wasn’t that what good moms did? Protect, guide, cushion every fall?
Then my daughters started growing up, and I realized something profound: I was so busy being their safety net that I forgot to teach them how to land. Yeah, ‘Oh fuck’ is right! I overcorrected. Yes, therapy has been teaching me some things. Imagine a little girl who never had enough of anything, including attention, righting every perceived wrong ever done to her. I was so busy trying to heal the child in me by making my own daughters lives as close to ideal as possible. I was trying to heal myself by preventing anything bad from ever happening to them because no one protected me; well, not to the degree I needed anyways.
What Is Training Wheels Parenting?
Training wheels parenting is the revolutionary middle ground between helicopter parenting and complete independence. It’s the art of being present without being overbearing, of offering support without suffocating autonomy. It’s not easy but it’s what’s best for my daughters.
Think about actual training wheels. They don’t prevent your child from riding—they stabilize them while they learn balance. They’re adjustable. As your child gains confidence, you gradually raise them until one day, they’re barely touching the ground. Eventually, they come off entirely, but not before your child has built the skills and confidence they need.
That’s what we need to do as mothers in this complicated world; at least, that’s what I needed to do. We need to provide structure and support that gradually decreases as our children’s competence increases. We need to be mentors, not managers. And in my case, we’re friends. I raised two of the best fucking humans I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting and that’s just facts.
The Evolution From Helicopter to Mentor to Friend
The helicopter mom culture taught us that good parenting meant total involvement. We scheduled every activity, monitored every friendship, intervened in every conflict. Good Lord, the playdate moms I endured and who were forced to endure me ( I’m a lot…I’m sorry because I’m even more when I’m stressed and boy, being a mom has always stressed me out because the stakes are too high).
We believed that our constant presence equaled love and protection. But here’s what nobody tells you about helicopter parenting: it robs our children of something essential—the ability to fail safely, to problem-solve independently, to build resilience through experience.
When my oldest daughter faced her first major disappointment—not getting the part in the Nutcracker she’d worked so hard for—my instinct was to march into that ballet and demand answers (or change minds because you know me). The point is that I wanted to fix it, to make the hurt go away, to challenge the director’s decision. I had tunnel vision and the only thing that mattered was that my girl was hurting and I wanted to make it all better like I’d done all of her life. I had to put her needs above my inability to watch her fail or struggle.
Instead, I sat with her discomfort. I listened. I asked questions that helped her process her emotions and identify what she could control. I didn’t rescue her from the pain ( though believe me I have)—I equipped her to navigate it. That’s training wheels parenting.
Why This Model Matters Now More Than Ever
Our children are growing up in a world we couldn’t have imagined. Social media scrutiny, political polarization, economic uncertainty, global pandemics—the challenges they face require more than our protection. They require preparation and education.
Training wheels parenting acknowledges that we can’t shield our kids from everything, nor should we try. Instead, we focus on building their capacity to handle whatever comes their way. We teach critical thinking, emotional intelligence, problem-solving, and self-advocacy.
This doesn’t mean we abandon them. We give them unconditional love and support. It means we redefine support. We’re not hovering overhead, ready to swoop in at the first sign of struggle. We’re standing beside them, providing guidance when asked, offering perspective when needed, and cheering from the sidelines as they navigate their own paths. With a few bumps on the way and a learning curve that left something to be desired, this is how my parents parented. I’ve just made it my own and worked out most of the kinks.
The Core Principles of Training Wheels Parenting
Progressive independence is fundamental. We gradually increase responsibilities and freedoms as our children demonstrate readiness. A fifteen-year-old gets different training wheels than an eight-year-old, and that’s exactly as it should be.
Natural consequences become teachers. When my daughter forgot her phone for the third time, I didn’t rush to school with it. She felt disconnected and out of sorts that day, and she never forgot her phone again. The lesson stuck because she owned the consequence.
Open communication replaces surveillance. Instead of monitoring every text message, we have ongoing conversations about healthy relationships, digital citizenship, and personal boundaries. We talk about and through everything. We build trust through dialogue, not control. Love is unconditional and built on respect for one another, honesty and trust, not fear.
Emotional coaching supersedes problem-solving. We validate feelings while empowering our children to find their own solutions. We ask, ‘What do you think you should do?’ instead of immediately telling them what to do.
Maintaining Connection While Letting Go
The fear that keeps many of us hovering is the fear of disconnection. We worry that if we step back, we’ll lose our place in our children’s lives. But training wheels parenting actually strengthens our bonds because it’s built on mutual respect rather than dependency.
My relationship with my daughters has deepened since I embraced this approach. They come to me not because they have to, but because they want to. They share not because I’m monitoring, but because they trust me to listen without judgment or immediate intervention. They’ve taught me to learn to listen and be fully present before trying to fix it. Sometimes they just want us to support them. That was a hard truth to be told and I still have to work at this because I’m a fixer.
Connection doesn’t require constant proximity. It requires presence when it matters, wisdom when it’s needed, and the courage to let them stumble while you’re still close enough to catch them if they truly fall.
The Hardest Part: Trusting the Process
Let me be honest—training wheels parenting is harder than it sounds but it is what came most naturally for us. It requires restraint when every fiber of your being wants to intervene. It demands patience when quick fixes seem easier. It means accepting that your child might make different choices than you would, and those choices might lead to mistakes.But those mistakes? They’re not failures—they’re ‘wisdom’ loading. Every stumble teaches balance, every challenge builds strength, every disappointment develops resilience.
As parents, we need to trust that all those years of guidance, all those conversations, all that modeling of values—they took root. Our children absorbed more than we realize. When we step back, they step up. I can say this because both girls are adults now and I’ve seen the process succeed in real life.
Moving Forward
Training wheels parenting isn’t about being less involved—it’s about being involved differently. It’s about transitioning from director to consultant, from protector to guide, from problem-solver to confidence-builder.
Our children don’t need us to clear every obstacle from their path. They need us to teach them how to navigate obstacles themselves. They don’t need us to shield them from every disappointment. They need us to help them process disappointment and grow from it.
So today, I challenge you to examine where you might be hovering when you could be mentoring. Where could you raise those training wheels just a little higher? What opportunity for growth are you inadvertently preventing by preventing struggle? The goal isn’t perfect parenting—it’s raising humans who can ride through life confidently, knowing you taught them how to balance, how to pedal, and how to get back up when they fall. That’s the gift of training wheels parenting, and our children deserve nothing less.
Happy Throat Punch Thursday to all who celebrate (shhh! I know there’s a lot of you.I saw your DMs)! I’m here to announce that Throat Punch Thursday is coming back, baby! This Maycember shit is for the birds and personally, I’m glad it’s just about over. But, bitches I was harshly and disrespectfully scathed. The past week has been a gut punch to my mama heart and that was hard but expected. But, ladies, the last 24 hours feels like the universe punched me in my throat. By the way, I can tell you from my perspective, I’d prefer to go through my mom life transition without the side of empty nest syndrome. Anyways, now that my very important PSA is out of the way, I’ve got even bigger news.
June is for new beginnings and I’m rebranding. Not the SOSDD (same old shit, different day) superficial update. I’m reinventing the blog ( mine, not the concept).
Sadly, as of 8:38 PM on Wednesday, May 21st, in the year of our Lord and Savior 2025 I can no longer officially hold my title of “mom to a child”. She is de facto an adult.
GASP* ( I fucking hate it here sometimes)
Go ahead and be shocked. I am. I might throw up. Maybe I already did. Maybe that was the Mounjaro. Maybe it’s my allergies. Maybe it’s my Sunday Sads on a random Throat Punch Thursday. Girl, maybe it’s Maybelline. I don’t know. I just know that my eyes have been leaking a lot lately.
My baby girl, Gabs, turned 18-years-old (tbh, in a Latina household “adulthood” doesn’t mean anything but more responsibility. We’re not so good with the “letting go” parts of parenthood and forget about this whole empty nest syndrome shit. I’m not about it -training wheels, rememba? In fact, as a culture, we welcome our kids to live with us for as long as they want so…girls, you have it here in writing. If this is what empty nest syndrome is all about- that’s a hard fuckin pass. I tried it. I’m not sure I like it. I prefer to think of it as launching adult children. I’ve always been a training wheels mom but I feel my inner launch pad mom begrudgingly making her way to the front.
Then, on May 23rd, just to make the point crystal clear, she had the friggin ( why do I always imagine myself to sound like Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinny when I say that word) AUDACITY to graduate from high school (that’s a different post for another day when I can get my shit together long enough to not be a verklempt cry baby. For now, I’m just going to bite my lip, turn my trauma into comedy gold and vagina the fuck up! YEEHAW Mothafuckas!)
Yeah, I said “AUDACITY” ( I also said a lot of other out of pocket words in the previous sentence..oopsie #NSFW). Guess what else? All of this motherhood business is going too fast and I’m not ready for retirement so I’m gonna do what every ADHD woman, man and child knows to do….
PIIVVVOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!! (IYKYK)
I’m not going to give away all the goodies right here, right now…you know I’m a blog tease. J/K I’m a little touchy feely at times but I’m no tease. I always deliver with my whole ass in it.
My children and I were raised right here, on this blog. They grew up. I evolved from a brand spanking new wife and “mommy” into this seasoned warrior mama bruh bear. I don’t often wear a cape but when it comes to my girls, there’s not much I can’t or won’t do. Leap tall buildings, lift semis, do TikToks in matching pajamas ( in public ) just because they wanted to. Y’all didn’t think I was just born a (neuro) spicy, Latina Trad wife from Chicago, did you?
I feel like I’ve graduated to the next level of motherhood. You guys, I raised really good human beings and I am no longer “mommy” on most days. I’m so proud of who my girls are becoming and more importantly, they are chasing their dreams.
Let me reintroduce you to myself, “ Hi, my name is Brah”, ( my girls think that joke is UBER funny because 1. They made it up. 2. This one time a cast member at Disney World asked me “Why do they call all Deborah’s Deb? Why not just Brah?” Cue hysterical tween laughter and here we are years later, left behind – like the discarded “brah” I am.
Let’s just say we’re going to be The TRUTH about Motherhood 2.0 Life perspective through mom goggles from conception to college and beyond. Because, ladies, ( come in closer so you can hear this) its. Not.just.about.them! YOU MATTER TOO! This is going to be my ME Era.
What does that mean for the blog? We’re shifting towards sharing more about where we are now ( a mother fucking motherhood cross roads, in case you’re wondering.) Who am I? Where am I? What in the ever loving shit am I supposed to do with all this motherhood to give and no “children” who need mothered?
It feels like I’ve been sent to the benches— by my own kids, no less ( the fruit of my womb). Retired. Expired.
What am I supposed to do with all of this fucking “me” time? I haven’t had “me” time since 2005! Wait, no, that’s wrong. I haven’t had “Me time” since that 1 month in 1997 when I was single and lived alone.
ONE WHOLE MONTH.
This is my mom life transition and I’ve chosen growth and evolution because apparently, revolting is frowned upon. Unfortunately, that may be easier said than done because I don’t believe that my ADHD brain was built for boredom ( or letting go). I wish people would stop talking to me about empty nest syndrome. Hopefully, my object permanence swoops in and saves the day.
Ladies, we’re still young. I’ve got at least 53 more lives to live. I need a new purpose and to get back to ME ( the unfiltered original — yes, believe it or not, I have been using my inside voice all of these years) the woman I was before the Big Guy and our girls came along. Where the fawk is she? What happened to her? Did I leave her at Purdue? Maybe I lost her somewhere on vacation? Nope, I’m still here buried beneath the rubble of years of martyrdom and servitude.
I set the bar so high for myself in everything I did in life that I only ever felt like I was failing. I realize now that I wasn’t failing; I was doing my best ( and according to my husband, that’s better than most).
It only took 26 years of marriage, 20 years of motherhood, perimenopause, my impending induction into the “coolest mom ever”( according to my teenager who wanted Starbys) parenting hall of shame, zero fucks left to be given and my headfirst deep dive into my dreaded season of letting go.
I can see the headlines now, “Training Wheels Mom Exchanges Her Wheels for a Launching Pad, Dies in the Process”
Oopsie, I guess today’s Throat Punch Thursday post will be going live later today. Stay tuned. And, now that I’m back, remember to subscribe for more straight up truths about navigating this next beautiful season of motherhood/ womanhood/sisterhood. Time to step into our power, bruh! We ride at dawn.
There’s something magical about finding a hotel that doesn’t just accommodate your stay but enhances your entire travel experience. As a mom who’s stayed in countless hotels across the globe, I can confidently say that StayPineapple Chicago isn’t just another place to rest your head—it’s a destination in itself that’s capturing the hearts of Gen-Z travelers and cool people of all ages. Bonus: Did you know StayPineapple Chicago is the most Pet Friendly Hotel?
A Historic Building with Modern Vibes
Housed in a National Historic Landmark building in Chicago’s vibrant Loop district, StayPineapple seamlessly blends old-world charm with contemporary flair. The moment you step into the bustling lobby, you’re transported to what feels like the city’s coolest gathering (minus any awkward drunk uncles asking you weird questions). The old-school door keys add to the vintage appeal, though fair warning—losing one will cost you a $50 fee!
For travelers wanting to experience the best of Chicago, you simply can’t beat StayPineapple’s prime location. Situated in the heart of the Loop, you’re literally steps away from:
The Theatre District (perfect for Broadway show enthusiasts)
Millennium Park (hello, Bean selfies!)
The Art Institute of Chicago
The glamorous boutiques of the Magnificent Mile
The architecturally stunning Rookery Building
Lakeshore East Park (ideal for those traveling with pets)
From my room, I fell asleep gazing at the iconic Chicago Theatre marquee and the twinkling city lights. For shoppers, Primark is nearby, and coffee lovers will appreciate being within walking distance of the Chicago Starbucks Reserve. The central location means you can reach practically any major Chicago attraction within minutes.
The Naked Experience: Sleep Like You’ve Never Slept Before
Let’s talk about what StayPineapple calls “The Naked Experience”—quite possibly the most comfortable hotel beds on the planet. As someone who had unfortunately received both MMR and pneumonia vaccines right before our trip, I can personally attest that StayPineapple’s heavenly bedding saved our vacation.
Each room features:
Ultra-plush, cloud-like mattresses that make your bed at home seem like a park bench
Individual European-style duvets that eliminate the dreaded cover-stealing midnight tug-of-war
Incredibly soft pineapple-embroidered robes that you’ll be tempted to smuggle home
Minimalist room design with just the right touch of quirky pineapple accents
I’ve stayed in luxury hotels worldwide, but I’ve never experienced bedding that comes close to the comfort level at StayPineapple. I’m still trying to figure out how to recreate this sleep experience at home!
Officially the Most Pet-Friendly Hotel Brand in America
If you travel with furry family members, StayPineapple isn’t just pet-friendly—they’re downright pet-obsessed. They’ve been recognized with numerous awards including being listed as one of the Best Pet-Friendly Hotels in Newsweek’s 2025 Readers’ Choice Awards and ranked #1 in BringFido.com’s list of Top Dog-Friendly Hotel Chains.
Your four-legged companions receive:
A special Staypineapple dog bed for use during your stay
A Staypineapple treat tin (afternoon delight for dogs!)
A collapsible water bowl to keep
Walk-friendly waste bags in a yellow holder
Unlike many hotels that claim to welcome pets but make it difficult to actually enjoy your stay with them, StayPineapple truly accommodates your entire family—fur members included. They even let you leave your pet in the room while you explore the city (just use their special door hangers to let staff know).
The Little Touches That Make All the Difference
What sets StayPineapple apart are the thoughtful details that show they’ve genuinely considered what travelers need:
Complimentary yellow umbrellas for unexpected Chicago downpours
Bicycles available for exploring the city
Afternoon treats and coffee in the lobby
Friendly staff who seem genuinely happy to assist with any request
Unique pineapple-shaped cookies that taste as good as they look
The team at StayPineapple has clearly put thought into creating not just comfortable accommodations but a memorable experience. Their “Everything People” approach means that every staff member is empowered to make your stay special.
Worth Every Single Penny
While StayPineapple isn’t the cheapest option in Chicago, the value you receive far exceeds the price tag. From the unparalleled comfort of their beds ( I cannot put a finer point on how damn comfy these beds are) to the prime location and exceptional service, you’re investing in an experience that elevates your entire Chicago trip.
As a mom who values both comfort and creating special memories for my family, I can honestly say I’ve found my new favorite Chicago hotel. There’s something refreshing about a boutique hotel brand that maintains its personality while delivering five-star comfort. Whether you’re a Gen-Z traveler looking for Instagram-worthy moments, a family celebrating a special occasion, or anyone who appreciates the perfect blend of luxury, comfort, and playfulness, StayPineapple Chicago delivers an experience that will have you planning your return visit before you’ve even checked out. Believe me, I’m just trying to decide on a city! South Boston StayPineapple, I’m coming for you! We’ve always stayed at the Hyatt Regency Boston and love it. It’s amazing but I’m not sure the beds can compete with StayPineapple.
And isn’t that what we’re all looking for? Not just a place to stay, but a place that makes us want to staypineapple.
If you want to see how awesome StayPineapple Chicago really is be sure to stop by my Instagram over the weekend. I promise you’ll be glad you did!
Every year, I dread this day because I never know how I’m going to feel. Am I going to be functional? Am I going to be in the fetal position? Will I feel a certain type of way? Or Will I cry? Will I break shit? Will the day pass nonchalantly? I think that’s the one I fear more than even completely forgetting… being able to go on with my life like nothing’s missing. Existing while pushing down the miscarriage anniversary grief that is always just a hair away from bubbling to the surface.
Maybe it’s because the baby I lost would be turning 13 years old this year (and that’s a huge milestone)? Or maybe it’s because my youngest daughter is graduating from high school and turning 18 years old this month? Maybe it’s because my oldest daughter, my closest friend, is going away for college in the fall? Maybe it’s the state of the world? Or maybe it’s feeling helpless, hopeless and overwhelmed. Maybe it’s all the forced change and letting go with no way to stop it. No one asked me.
I just know that today, I feel like someone gashed open my scarred-over wound and left me bleeding and broken on the ground. It fucking hurts.
When will it stop hurting? How can anyone ever get over this kind of loss? It lingers with me daily; like a ghost of a memory that never fully existed in this world. It’s believing without ever truly knowing. It’s desperately missing what you never got to hold. How can I miss someone so heartbrokenly who I never even got to lay eyes on him beyond a sonogram?
It’s been 13 years since I heard those words, “ I’m sorry, I can’t find a heartbeat”. 13 years since my entire world imploded and changed me forever. It seems like yesterday ( the pain is still so fresh in my heart), but then again, it feels like it happened a lifetime ago, to someone else. But that’s only because the wound has long scarred over. The underlying pain, throbbing right beneath the surface, fickle and erratic, ready to go from 3 to 10 with the whisper of the wrong word or the thought of a memory that will never exist. How do you love someone so much and go on living without them? Is that even living?
Miscarriage anniversary grief is very real and seldom spoke of because everyone just wants to forget it happened.
It is living, but it’s only a semblance of the life you were evolving into; the trauma and pain of losing your child changes you in ways that only another mother can comprehend because a mother’s love is unlike any other love in the world. A mother is the one person in this world who will love you no matter what. She will defend you with her life because without you, she is unwhole.
So here I sit, in my bed, still in my pajamas at 2:17 p.m. mourning and remembering a child that I loved more than myself but never had the privilege of holding in my arms. It may seem weird to hold so tight but sometimes it feels like he never existed. I have to be his legacy.
The thing is I’m no quitter. I’ve never quit a thing in my life. It’s just not how I’m built but, honestly, I feel like my body failed my baby and I can never pay that debt. It lingers in my heart that maybe my uncertainty and hesitation about being a mom at 39, maybe it was some cosmic punishment for not being as enthusiastic at our unexpected blessing? I have grief from the loss mixed with guilt for my body failing my child. I’ll carry that weight until the day I die. I’ll always feel responsible for lacking.
But, that’s all I can do for atonement is live with guilt. I can’t do anything to bring my baby back and I never could. Sometimes things just don’t work out, for no reason at all; no matter how much you wanted it. No matter how much you loved it. No matter how scared or unsure you were. None of it mattered. It just wasn’t meant to be and I have to learn to live with that.
Miscarriage Anniversary Grief
It never goes away. No matter how I wish none of it were true and you, my sweet baby, were here with me. I never got the chance to hold you in my arms and read these lines to you, my sweet baby, but today…I feel it’s time to say the words I never could to you…
As a mom who’s constantly juggling appointments, school pickups, creating content, and keeping everyone healthy, I never expected to find myself rolling up my sleeve for a childhood vaccine again. But that’s exactly what I did last week – getting my second MMR vaccination as an adult. Yes, I got an adult measles booster shot! And, it stung like a son of a gun. Why? Because measles is making an alarming comeback across the country, and experts are warning that many of us who thought we were protected might not be fully immune. And, tbh, I can’t take the risk. Being a good human being is hard.
The Measles Comeback: Why It Matters to Your Family
According to Harvard Health Publishing, Dr. Michelle Chan, an infectious disease physician at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, puts it clearly: “We worry about the outbreaks because measles is a highly contagious infection. Individuals who have not been immunized, children too young for the vaccine, and those who are immunocompromised can become very ill from measles.”
Are You in a Vulnerability Gap? Check Your Birth Year
Born between 1963-1967? You may have received an inactivated (killed) version of the measles vaccine that proved less effective. Medical records from this era are spotty at best, so if you were vaccinated during this window, doctors recommend getting one to two doses of the current MMR vaccine.
Born between 1968-1989? You likely received just one dose of the MMR vaccine, as two doses didn’t become standard until 1989. One dose provides about 93% protection, but two doses boost that to 97%. That 4% difference might not sound huge until you consider how contagious measles is.
Healthcare workers, international travelers, or those who have close contact with immunocompromised individuals should ensure complete vaccination regardless of age, as these positions put you at higher risk of exposure or transmission.
You may need an adult measles booster shot
What about those born before 1957? You’re generally considered immune because measles was so widespread during your childhood that you likely were exposed and developed natural immunity. However, if you’re in a high-risk profession or situation, testing or vaccination might still be recommended.
When Protection Isn’t Just Personal
I’ll be honest – I was frustrated about needing another MMR vaccine as an adult. As I told my doctor while rolling up my sleeve, “It’s ridiculous that I have to get an MMR as an adult, but I don’t want to catch measles and possibly die.”
But then I remembered: this isn’t just about me. It’s about community protection – what medical experts call “herd immunity.” Some people genuinely cannot receive vaccines for medical reasons – babies too young for vaccination, people undergoing cancer treatment, or those with certain immune disorders. My immunity helps protect them. I’m not a selfish person by nature and I definitely don’t want to be responsible for infecting someone else.
I believe in personal choice, but not when those choices put vulnerable people at risk. If parents choose not to vaccinate their children, they should at least keep unvaccinated children home when ill and inform others of potential exposure so families can make informed decisions.
Checking Your Immunity: Simpler Than You Think
The good news? Determining if you need a booster is simple:
Check your vaccination records if available
Talk to your doctor about your specific situation
Consider a blood test that can check your immunity levels
When in doubt, get vaccinated – receiving an additional MMR dose is completely safe even if you’re already immune
As Dr. Chan reassures patients, “If you are unsure, you can choose to take a dose of the vaccine. It is very safe and not harmful if you happen to receive an additional dose.”
My Family’s Protection Plan includes an adult measles booster shot
At the end of the day, I’m going to do what’s best to protect my family. For me, that meant getting my second MMR vaccine last week. For you, it might mean checking your records or scheduling an appointment with your doctor.
As parents, we make thousands of decisions for our families. This is one where the science is clear: ensuring proper measles immunity through vaccination isn’t just about protecting ourselves – it’s about protecting our entire community, especially those who can’t protect themselves.
As Dr. Chan emphasizes, “It all comes back to vaccines. This is our most effective method of preventing measles infection and resurgence.”
Have you checked your family’s measles immunity status lately? Did you discover you needed a booster? Share your experience in the comments below.
As the daughter of an immigrant and a mom, watching Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents conduct so-called “welfare checks” on unaccompanied immigrant children makes my blood boil. What’s presented as concern for child safety is revealed through internal documents to be something far more sinister: a coordinated effort to deport vulnerable children and criminalize the family members legally caring for them. ICE targeting immigrant children is wrong on every level. They’re children; regardless of color or race, it’s our responsibility to care for children.
The Truth Behind ICE’s “Welfare Checks”
Recent reports have confirmed that ICE is actively seeking out unaccompanied immigrant children in nationwide operations. While the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) claims these visits are benevolent “welfare checks” meant to “ensure that they are safe and not being exploited,” an internal ICE document obtained by the National Immigration Project tells a different story.
The document explicitly shows that ICE officials are gathering intelligence to determine whether these children are “flight risks” or “threats to public safety.” Evaluating deportation possibilities, and looking for ways to pursue criminal cases against both the children and their sponsors. This isn’t protection—it’s persecution.
Michelle Méndez, director of legal resources and training for the National Immigration Project, called it what it is: “backdoor family separation.” The government is weaponizing these children’s vulnerability to target entire immigrant communities.
ICE targeting immigrant children for deportation is fucking bullshit. People are not “illegal,” especially in a country stolen from the indigenous and built on the backs of brown and black people.
Let’s be crystal clear about what’s happening: this administration is deliberately traumatizing children who have already endured unimaginable hardships. Many of these kids fled violence, poverty, and persecution, traveling thousands of dangerous miles alone in search of safety. They’ve been processed through our immigration system. Placed with vetted sponsors (often family members), and are working through their legal cases as required by our laws.
Now, ICE agents are showing up at their homes, terrifying them with threats of deportation or criminal charges. A 16-year-old girl in Washington state was so frightened during one of these “welfare checks” that she desperately messaged her legal representative, afraid her life would be “flipped upside down.” This isn’t protecting children—it’s traumatizing them.
Systemic Attacks on Vulnerable Communities
These operations don’t exist in isolation. They’re part of a broader pattern of attacks on immigrant communities:
Legal services for unaccompanied minors have been slashed, despite court intervention
The Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR) has resumed sharing sensitive data about children and their sponsors with ICE
The current acting director of ORR is Angie Salazar, a former ICE agent
Children with alleged “gang ties” are being targeted using flimsy evidence under the rarely-used 1798 Alien Enemies Act
The concept of “backdoor family separation” is just a way to use immigrant people’s love for their children to threaten them. No Latino is ever leaving their child behind. These are human beings, and the U.S. government is treating them like property, completely dehumanizing these parents and their children in order for fellow Americans to condone this mass deportation of brown people. It’s a crime against humanity. Americans, we need to do what’s right even when its hard.
The Human Impact
For families caring for these children, these operations create an atmosphere of constant fear. Sponsors who went through extensive background checks and vetting processes to legally care for these children now face potential arrest and deportation for doing exactly what the government asked them to do. WTF? It feels like a trap and serves as a threat to others; stand down or you too might get illegally deported.
Shaina Aber, executive director of the Acacia Center for Justice, expressed her distress: “The amount of trauma that this administration seems willing to put kids through is really upsetting.”
Samuel Smith, director of immigrant legal aid at Manzanita House, described the terrified 16-year-old girl who contacted him during an ICE visit: “Both the text messages sent and the tone of communication when talking on the phone, was of a child who was incredibly scared. She had no idea what was going on and was worried that her life would be flipped upside down.”
A Personal Perspective
As someone who grew up watching my immigrant parent navigate this country’s complicated and often hostile systems, I understand the constant fear that comes with being seen as “other.” The worry that a knock on the door might mean your family being torn apart. The vigilance required to survive in a system designed to exclude you. In this political climate, even when you’ve done everything right and are here with proper paperwork, you still carry with you that feeling of being vulnerable and scared.
These children have done nothing wrong. They are following the legal processes established by our own government. Their sponsors—often family members who simply want to provide a safe home—are being criminalized for acts of love.
There’s a particular cruelty in targeting children. They are the most vulnerable and the least able to advocate for themselves. They’re the most likely to suffer lasting trauma from these experiences. ICE is deliberately exploiting this vulnerability.
What This Really Means
Let’s be honest about what’s happening here ICE is targeting immigrant children. This isn’t about protecting children. If it were, we’d be investing in their legal representation and their education. We’d care about their mental health services, and their successful integration into communities.
Instead, this administration has cut legal services and appointed former ICE officials to lead the agency responsible for these children’s care. The intent is clear: to use fear as a deterrent. They want to make examples of these children. Advancing a political agenda that views certain immigrants as inherently undesirable.
As Americans, we must ask ourselves: Is this who we want to be? A nation that terrorizes children? That separates families? That punishes acts of love and compassion?
For the daughter of an immigrant watching this unfold, the answer is a resounding “hell no”. We must be and do better than this. These children deserve better than this. Our shared humanity demands it.
A seemingly plain black and white rosary hangs from my rearview mirror, catching the light as I drive my daughters to school each morning. To most, it might look like a simple religious trinket, but to our family, it represents something profound – a connection to a man who showed my girls what it means to lead with humility and compassion. Today, that rosary carries an even deeper meaning as the first Latin American pope dies at the age of 88, leaving behind a legacy that forever changed how I explain faith to my daughters.
I remember gathering my girls around the television in 2013 when white smoke rose from the Sistine Chapel. As a Latina mother raising Catholic daughters in America, I held my breath, wondering who would step onto that balcony. When Jorge Mario Bergoglio emerged and began with a simple “Buonasera” (“Good evening”), something shifted. Here was a pope who spoke our language – not just Spanish, but the language of humility, accessibility, and genuine warmth.
“Mamá, he looks like abuelito,” my youngest whispered, noticing his gentle smile. I couldn’t help but tear up. After centuries of European pontiffs, the first Latin American pope had arrived, bringing with him cultural touchstones that felt intimately familiar – from his love of soccer to his direct, heartfelt manner of speaking.
The Pope Francis humble papacy began with his unprecedented decision to live in the modest Domus Santa Marta hotel rather than the palatial papal apartments.
He chose simple, practical shoes over red papal loafers, rode in compact cars instead of limousines, and carried his own luggage – choices that made explaining the concept of spiritual leadership tangible for my children.
“Why doesn’t he want to live in a castle if he can?” my daughter once asked.
“Because he believes Jesus wouldn’t have lived in a castle either,” I explained, grateful for such a clear example of living one’s values.
Monday morning at 7:35, the Pope Francis humble papacy came to an end as he “returned to the home of the Father,” according to Cardinal Kevin Farrell’s announcement.
Church bells rang from Buenos Aires to Manila as the world absorbed the news that the first Latin American pope dies after a 38-day hospitalization for double pneumonia. Just one day earlier, he had appeared at Easter celebrations, offering a final blessing to thousands in St. Peter’s Square.
Born to Italian immigrants in Buenos Aires on December 17, 1936, Francis brought his Argentine perspective to the global stage. His pontificate embraced “todos, todos, todos” (“everyone, everyone, everyone”) – a phrase I’ve found myself repeating in our home when my daughters ask difficult questions about who belongs in our church community.
Through 12 transformative years, the Pope Francis humble papacy redefined what Catholic leadership could look like.
He prioritized mercy over judgment, famously responding “Who am I to judge?” when asked about gay priests. He washed the feet of prisoners, embraced the disfigured, and constantly directed the church’s attention to refugees, the poor, and society’s outcasts.
For our family, these weren’t abstract theological positions but practical lessons in compassion. When my daughters noticed a homeless person outside our church, Francis’s example gave us a framework for discussion beyond simply saying “that’s sad.” We talked about human dignity and our responsibility to see Christ in every person – lessons straight from the Pope Francis humble papacy.
His pontificate wasn’t without controversies. Some conservatives considered him too progressive, while advocates for abuse victims felt he didn’t go far enough in addressing the church’s failures. After initially mishandling cases in Chile, Francis did something rare for a pope – he admitted his mistake, apologized, and worked to make amends. In the end, we are all just fallible humans trying to do the right thing.
That humility in acknowledging errors became another teaching moment in our home. “Even the pope makes mistakes,” I told my daughters. “What matters is how we respond when we’re wrong.”
As the first Latin American pope dies, I find myself reflecting on what his papacy meant specifically for Latina mothers like me. Francis validated our cultural expressions of faith – embracing popular piety, recognizing saints like Oscar Romero who spoke for our communities, and demonstrating that leadership doesn’t require European origins or aristocratic bearing.
He provided me with endless examples of faith in action that resonated with Latino values of family, community, and care for the vulnerable. When explaining complex church teachings, I could point to Francis kneeling to wash feet, embracing the marginalized, or living simply – making abstract concepts tangible through his example.
Now, as the church begins the solemn process of mourning and eventually selecting a new leader, I find myself wondering how to explain this transition to my daughters. The Pope Francis humble papacy has been the only one they’ve known – a pontificate defined by warmth, accessibility, and a focus on mercy. He embodied his papa title.
Perhaps the lesson is in the continuity of faith despite changes in leadership. That blessed rosary in my car will remain, carrying memories of a pope who showed my Latina daughters that their culture, their language, and their expressions of faith belong at the very heart of the church. As the first Latin American pope dies, his legacy of humility lives on in the countless families like ours who saw our values reflected in his leadership.
For that gift – making faith accessible, relatable, and deeply human – this Latina mother will be forever grateful.
Let me tell you about the weekend that’s about to validate one of my most questionable parenting decisions…EVER! Our family of four is heading to Chicago to celebrate Bella turning 20 this Easter weekend by seeing Moulin Rouge! The Musical at the Cadillac Palace Theatre via Broadway in Chicago. Why this show? Because it’s been her favorite movie since she was 5. I know this because she chose Moulin Rouge as her 5th birthday party theme that year. Just one of the many so-called “parenting fails” that actually turned out pretty damn well.
Look, I’m not the mom who clutched her pearls at PG-13 movies ( we all remember the DUFF incident) or frantically covered eyes during kiss scenes. When 5-year-old Bella stumbled upon Moulin Rouge during our movie night, I considered changing it for about three seconds before thinking, “Eh, she’ll either love it or not give one f*ck about it.” Turns out, she was transfixed by the colors, the music, and yes, Ewan McGregor’s face. She still is and I can’t blame her. Obie Wan is quite the silver fox
When her kindergarten teacher called concerned about Bella’s detailed drawings of “the elephant love medley room,” I simply replied, “She has an eye for architecture.” When the other moms at pick-up whispered about my letting her watch “that courtesan movie,” I just smiled, sipped my spicy matcha latte and thought to myself, “Bitch have you not read my blog?”. Fifteen years later, Bella and I still laugh about it while scrolling through TikTok on the couch together. That’s right, if your son’s snapping my daughters, I’ve probably laughed at his Gen-Z failed attempt at “game”. Y’all are from the 90’s R&B era, your sons should know better. Do better Gen X/ Millennial parents.
That’s the thing about Bella and I – we’ve always been more besties than the typical mother-daughter duo. Tbh, since my girls have gotten older, its like living in a sorority house these days; we share clothes, playlists, and an unhealthy obsession with SVU and true crime podcasts. Our group texts would make my own mother faint. So when Broadway in Chicago announced Moulin Rouge was coming through town, you can bet your ever lovin mother butts, we were going. Scoring tickets wasn’t just a birthday gift – it was our next adventure together and getting those tickets was my mission.
I’ve set alerts on my phone for ticket drops and spent more time on the Broadway in Chicago website than I care to admit. Seriously, at this point I feel like either their biggest fan or their stalker. The Tony Award-winning production is running for a limited three-week engagement through April 20, and I refused to miss it. The current cast features Arianna Rosario as Satine and Jay Armstrong Johnson as Christian, and according to my deep-dive research (yes, I stalked their Instagrams), they’re incredible.
Moulin Rouge + Broadway +Chicago = Best.Day.Ever.
Bella’s already planned our entire Chicago weekend – where to eat (some cute fusion gastropub she found), what to wear (something heavily sequined, obviously), and where to take photos for maximum social clout (so we meet again Bean). My husband and other daughter just shake their heads at us, but they’re used to our spontaneous shenanigans by now. Hey, were all on this ride together and no one gets of until I say so. You hear me?
“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we sing along?” Bella texted me yesterday.
“Only one way to find out,” I replied, because that’s the kind of mom I am and we will definitely be singing along.
The show incorporates music spanning 160 years, from classical to contemporary pop. Bella’s already made us a pre-road trip playlist featuring all the mashups from the soundtrack. Our family road trips have always been heavy on the sing-alongs, much to my husband’s chagrin. “It’s like living with a three-person girl band that only knows songs from movie soundtracks,” he complains, but I catch him humming along every time. And if you want to know the truth, what we lack in talent we more than make up for in unquestionable confidence in ourselves.
What I love most about this upcoming weekend isn’t just seeing the show – it’s watching Bella experience it. There’s something magical about seeing your adult kid connect with something that shaped their childhood. That movie sparked her love for theater, art, and music in ways I never could have planned with “age-appropriate” content.
So here’s to the moms who don’t follow the parenting playbook. The ones who let their kids watch slightly inappropriate movies that somehow turn into core memories. The ones whose daughters grow up to be their best friends. Don’t be jealous, you too could have made the unpopular choice to take your 9 and 7-year old to see The DUFF instead of something rated-E for everyone.
This weekend, we’ll be the ones in the theater with the slightly-too-loud reactions, probably tearing up during “Come What May” while squeezing each other’s hands. And later, dissecting every costume detail over late-night drinks, because that’s what best friends do.
No regrets. Not a single one. Happy birthday, baby girl!
There are few things that bring my theater-loving family more joy than watching a beloved classic come to life on stage. When I heard that The Addams Family: A Musical Comedy was coming to the Morris Performing Arts Center in South Bend this March, I literally squealed with delight. If you could have seen me jumping up and down in my kitchen, phone in hand, you’d have thought I’d won the lottery—or at least found a way to make my children clean their rooms without threatening to sell their belongings on eBay.
A Family Affair (Both On and Off Stage)
Last Halloween, our family went all out with our Addams Family costumes. My husband transformed into the dashing Gomez, complete with pinstripe suit and mustache that made him look less like a romantic Latino lover and more like a questionable used car salesman. I channeled my inner Morticia with a floor-length black dress and dead-straight hair, which my teenagers helpfully pointed out wasn’t much of a stretch from my everyday “dead inside” mom aesthetic.
The kids? They embraced their roles as Wednesday and Pugsley with an enthusiasm that was both heartwarming and slightly concerning. Bella’s Wednesday braids were perfect, though her scowl was perhaps too authentic—the result of me confiscating her phone for the evening. Finding fake poison bottles as props was… interesting. Let’s just say our local craft store employees now have us on some kind of watch list.
We even thought of getting our dog, Stella, involved as Cousin It with a blonde wig but we had to accept she looks more like Scooby than Cousin It. Poor thing spent the evening walking away from us and giving us looks that clearly said, “I don’t get paid enough treats for this humiliation.”
So when the American Theatre Guild announced that the Broadway National Tour of The Addams Family would be part of the 24-25 BROADWAY IN SOUTH BEND Series, taking the stage March 14-16, 2025, it felt like fate. Or perhaps a haunting. Either way, we’re here for it.
Why This Show Speaks to Us (Besides My Natural Affinity for the Macabre)
I’ve always believed that the Addams Family represents something special in American culture. On the surface, they’re macabre and mysterious, but at their core, they’re a family that loves fiercely and accepts each other completely—which is more than I can say for my relatives who still bring up my “goth phase” at every Thanksgiving dinner.
As a mother who writes about the messy truth of family life, I find the Addams Family incredibly relatable. They embrace chaos while maintaining unwavering family loyalty. Meanwhile, I’m over here just trying to convince my children that wearing the same sweatshirt for three weeks straight is, in fact, not acceptable in polite society.
The musical’s storyline centers on Wednesday Addams—the ultimate princess of darkness—who has grown up and fallen in love with a “normal” young man from a respectable family. She confides in Gomez and begs him not to tell Morticia, forcing him to do something truly terrifying: keep a secret from his beloved wife. Everything changes on the fateful night they host a dinner for Wednesday’s boyfriend and his parents.
More Than Just a Show (It’s Cheaper Than Family Therapy)
On the heels of “Wednesday”—the third most-watched show in Netflix history—this musical feels more relevant than ever. These characters created by Charles Addams have remained beloved for generations because they remind us that “normal” is relative, and the family that embraces their uniqueness together, stays together. Or as we say in our house, “The family that’s weird together, doesn’t have to explain themselves to the neighbors… as much.”
I can already imagine my daughters’ faces lighting up when they see Wednesday on stage, though she’ll pretend to be unimpressed because she’s 20 (as of Monday) and legally obligated to act like nothing her mother suggests is cool. Gabs will undoubtedly cackle at Pugsley’s antics while taking mental notes for future torment of her sister. And my husband? He’ll be squeezing my hand during Gomez and Morticia’s romantic moments, whispering, “Why don’t we dance like that anymore?” To which I’ll reply, “Because my back went out last month when I sneezed too hard, dear.”
These shared experiences are what build our family story—one awkward, slightly twisted moment at a time.
The Details You Need (Because I’m Helpful Like That)
Performance Schedule:
Friday, March 14, 2025: 7:30 p.m. (Perfect for date night, assuming you can find a babysitter brave enough to watch your little monsters)
Saturday, March 15, 2025: 2:00 & 7:30 p.m. (Matinee for those of us who can’t stay awake past 9 p.m. anymore)
Sunday, March 16, 2025: 2:00 p.m. (Just in time to go home and panic about the upcoming work week)
Tickets are available at BroadwayInSouthBend.com, MorrisCenter.org, and Etix.com. If you’ve got a group of 10 or more (family reunion, anyone? Or just the number of personalities living inside my head after a decade of parenting), you can score group ticket savings by contacting Groups@ATGuild.org.
Important PSA: Only purchase tickets through these official sources to avoid inflated prices and ticket guarantee issues! Because the only thing scarier than Thing is paying double for tickets that turn out to be fake. Trust me, we’ve all been bamboozled.
Join Our Theater-Obsessed Family (We Promise Not to Judge Your Singing)
Whether you’ve been an Addams Family fan since the original cartoons (thanks mom and dad for letting me watch in syndication), fell in love with the 90s movies (Raul Julia and Anjelica Huston, forever), or discovered them through the Netflix series (which my kids insist is “actually good, Mom”), this musical promises to deliver something for everyone.
It’s the perfect show for families like mine who appreciate that sometimes the most beautiful love stories come with a touch of darkness, and the strongest families are those who celebrate their weirdness together. After all, in a world where everyone’s trying to appear perfect on social media, there’s something refreshingly honest about a family whose house looks like it’s perpetually ready for Halloween.
We’ll be there opening night, probably overdressed and definitely overexcited. Look for the family singing along a bit too loudly—that’ll be us. I’ll be the one with black lipstick slightly smeared on my teeth, whispering “please don’t embarrass me” to my husband while simultaneously taking 47 photos of our children looking annoyed.
Mysterious and spooky, altogether ooky… see you at the theater! Unless you’re normal. In which case, why are you even reading my blog?
