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I thought I’d nailed motherhood. Then baby number 2 arrived

by with No Comment Xpandfy

When I was a mom of one, I nailed motherhood. I was calm and patient; my child was well-dressed; the car was pristine; the chores were completed; and there was very little shouting. But as a mom of two, I just can’t parent to the same standards. Everything is messier, louder, more rushed, less organized, and good enough, just has to be enough.

Going from one child to two has, without a doubt, been one of, if not the hardest, adjustments of my entire life. One plus one does not equal two in this scenario. As a mom to a 1.5-year-old, a 3.5-year-old, a 16-year-old stepson, and two needy cats, it sometimes feels like I care for a dozen creatures.

I thought I was prepared

When I was pregnant with my second, I wasn’t naive. I didn’t think two would be easy. From the moment I brought my second home from the hospital, and he met my first with a cry that brought my first to tears as well, it has been a pinball game of crying, clinging, grabbing, and fighting.

Each child seemingly has a different, urgent need that requires individual attention and the patience of someone who has had a full night’s sleep. They both want “mommy!” all the time, especially when the other wants me.


Mom with two toddlers

The author says her two kids are always needing her.

Courtesy of the author



Most days, I’ll be lucky to have a sip of water and finger brush my hair into a ponytail before the madness ensues. Once spotted, I’m bum-rushed as they joust for a prime spot on my lap or in my arms. Even with one on each leg with my legs spread as wide as they possibly can, they are still fighting over me, while likely trying to bat each other away. At 40 and 30 pounds each, holding both for more than a moment is back-breaking.

Why is parenting 2 kids so hard?

Countless times since becoming a parent of two, I’ve wondered why I’m not better at this. I’ve always excelled at what I put my energy toward, but this has absolutely shattered me. Most of the time, I’m able to rescue myself from the rabbit hole of feeling like a failure by reminding myself that it feels hard because it IS hard.

Adding a child when you already have one changes every dynamic in your life, including your relationship with your first child, and adds a whole new dynamic: your children’s relationship with each other.

Corners are cut, patience and sleep are limited, and the breaks you used to have when your partner had the other child no longer exist. Oh, did I forget to mention my partner? There’s hardly any time for him. That relationship, the one that is most important in keeping everything afloat, is tested to the absolute limits.

I’m finding joy in the chaos

As I write this, both kids are at day care. It’s my one day a week without them (if they haven’t contracted the latest day care bug), and I’m surrounded by chaos.

There’s a tent in front of me and a play mop on top of what was once our living room table, now a receptacle for apple cores, half-eaten bananas, board books, sippy cups, tissues (some used), and a rotating selection of kitchen utensils.

Amid all the clutter, I see the literal and figurative crumb trails my boys have left: crackers and playdough ground into the carpet, a red fire engine toy on the armchair of the sofa, a wooden spoon deposited in boots as one exited the front door that morning.

Despite the messy, loud, hectic life I now have, I can’t wait to pick them up from day care, even though I know it will be pandemonium from the moment they see me.




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I’m 57 and helping raise my 6 grandchildren in a crowded multigenerational home. I thought my life would be easier by now.

by with No Comment Xpandfy

I turned 57 this year. I always thought that by this point in my life, I would be taking bucket-list trips, tending a garden, and writing the novel I’ve always known was in me. Instead, my days are filled with wiping noses and every surface imaginable while keeping tabs on everything from medications to musical instruments.

My husband and I now live with our adult daughter and her six children, and because it makes the most sense, I take care of the kids, the house, the dog, and everything else while the other two adults go to work.

One day, when my daughter had to take five hours of mandatory overtime, and I was losing my cool at hour 10 of juggling meltdowns and messes, it hit me. I wasn’t the fun, easygoing, they-grow-up-so-fast-so-nothing-is-worth-getting-upset-about Grammie anymore. I had become the person holding everything together, and if nothing changed, I was going to burn out.

My busy mornings show how much I care for my grandkids

On a typical morning, I hit the ground running at 6 a.m. My daughter is able to take the first grader to the bus stop before work, so I’m “only” responsible for five kiddos most mornings.

After getting myself dressed and ready, I take the dog out and feed him, and then get my oldest grandson ready for the bus that picks him up at our door.

By then, the two preschoolers are awake, which means diaper changes and getting everyone dressed and fed. The middle schoolers need to be up, dressed in clean clothing (which is a bigger struggle than you’d think), and out the door on time. Somewhere in there, I’ll manage a cup of coffee and some sort of breakfast before we settle into the rest of our daily routine.

That’s when everything goes as it should. But when the 14-year-old misplaces his headphones, the dog gets frantic because of an early morning Amazon delivery, and the commotion wakes the toddler, it can feel like there’s no way I’ll make it through the day. Even then, the work doesn’t end when the workday does. It simply shifts into a different part of the day.

Loving my family doesn’t make the daily weight any lighter

I would take a bullet for every single member of my family. But the load is heavy, and I carry a lot of guilt for the moments I mourn the version of midlife I thought I would live.

It’s not that my daughter or my grandchildren are a burden; they’ve all been through more heartache and struggle than most people could imagine, and I’m so thankful we can provide emotional support.

But I’d be lying if I said I don’t sometimes long for the clean, quiet home I used to wake up to. My longing for that other life sometimes admittedly makes me cranky with my grandkids.

I had to change the way I showed up, or I wasn’t going to make it

A series of steps helped me change the way I show up without breaking myself down. I set an (almost) concrete bedtime for myself, completing tasks, chores, and self-care by 9 p.m. This gives me a little time to read or catch a podcast before getting to sleep at a decent hour.

The extra rest also allows me to get up a little earlier. Now, I have at least 30 minutes of quiet alone time while everyone else is still sleeping. It helps me start the day feeling grounded, rather than immediately pouring from an empty cup. I’ve experienced a huge shift in my attitude, and it seems to set the tone for everyone.

I’ve also started following some of the life advice I often give to the kids, like “Done is better than perfect.” I’m working on not holding myself to expectations I would never put on others. While I still won’t allow things to pile up until they’re unmanageable, I’m learning to be OK with leaving a load of laundry in the dryer for tomorrow.

Helping raise six grandchildren has reshaped my understanding of midlife

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my nearly six decades on this planet, it’s that life rarely goes as planned. Letting go of dreams is tough, especially when we’re sold a picture of how midlife ought to look — but whether it defines you is your choice.

I’m choosing to embrace my current purpose and see the significance in helping to shape the hearts and minds of six amazing human beings.

This chapter of my life is messy, exhausting, noisy, and chaotic. But at the heart of it all is unconditional love, and the simple truth I carry with me is that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.




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I thought downsizing would be hard for our family of 4. It ended up changing our lives for the better.

by with No Comment Xpandfy

In July 2025, my husband, Zach, and I moved our family of four from the suburbs of Ft Worth, Texas, to Denver.

After nearly 10 years of marriage, two kids, and three work-related moves, it was finally time to settle in a place of our choosing. This time, we didn’t just want a change of scenery; we wanted a change of lifestyle.

But finding a house in the bustling city neighborhood of our dreams within our budget meant downsizing — drastically.

Moving from our 3,300-square-foot home to a 2,300-square-foot bungalow with 1,200 square feet of actual living space (the rest being unfinished basement) wasn’t easy. It meant swapping our large kitchen island for a small dining table. It meant no more master bath soaking tub, my refuge from life’s stresses on more occasions than I could count. And it meant my kids giving up their separate rooms to share one.

But what we’ve gained in the quality and quantity of time spent together is worth every bit of lost square footage.

We’re spending our time on what matters

Our bigger house in Texas required more upkeep, and we were more than happy to give that up for extra free time on the weekends. Now, we spend our time visiting attractions such as the Denver Zoo and the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. We’re fostering our kids’ curiosity, exploring new places together. Our everyday life feels more special and meaningful because these shared experiences amplify our family connection.


Dining room

The author’s new house is about a third the size of her previous house.

Courtesy of the author



We’re also getting out in nature more. Aside from weekend hiking and skiing adventures, our days revolve around outdoor living. We walk everywhere we can, including restaurants, parks, and even Trader Joe’s, which is beneficial because driving to Trader Joe’s means parking at Trader Joe’s, and nobody enjoys that. Our moods are lighter, and our stresses are reduced.

The first time we walked to a restaurant instead of driving, it felt like we were on vacation. Our lives had always been car-dependent, but that’s no longer the case. The kids laughed and raced each other down the sidewalk. We marvelled at the mature trees and brightly colored flowers lining 7th Avenue Parkway. There was no timeline or rushing, just the joy of being present. When we made our way home after an alfresco dinner at Postino, I asked my son if he liked walking to dinner. He asked simply, “Can we do this every day?”

We’re finding connections in our community

Zach and I frequently sit on our front porch while our boys play with neighborhood kids, a first for us. Having houses so close together makes it easier to meet people and form real connections. We know almost every household on our block, and we regularly visit with our closest neighbors. We even enjoyed our first block party in August, which fell on my eldest’s birthday, and according to him, it was his “Best birthday ever!”


Birthday party

The author’s child loved his backyard birthday party.

Courtesy of the author



Our boys run between yards while we chat with new friends. They are experiencing a childhood closer to the one we grew up with. They’re building confidence and finding their place, and that’s translating to more smiles and fewer tantrums. Zach and I are finding our village, and parenthood feels less solitary.

On a recent trip back to Texas for Thanksgiving, I texted our next-door neighbor to let her know we’d be out of town. Without even asking, she offered to take in our mail. It may be a small gesture, but that sense of community is priceless to us.

My boys have more freedom

Downsizing has also allowed our kids to play more independently in an outdoor space that feels safe and protected. We have an unobstructed line of sight to the backyard, and no matter where my husband and I are in the house, we can hear them if they need us. The result has been hours of creative play, building campsites and outdoor kitchens, playing soccer and baseball, and having water balloon fights or Nerf battles.


Family at football game

The author’s kids have more freedom and can play outside in their new home.

Courtesy of the author



Most evenings, my kids are in the backyard playing games and getting dirty. When the weather is nice, they run around with their friends down the street. I would never have felt comfortable not knowing every move my kids were making before, but here, where everyone is watching out, and I can wave at my kids down the block to signal when it’s time to come home, less space means more freedom.

Our downsized life isn’t always perfect. Despite all our decluttering efforts, we’re still left with more stuff than we can accommodate. We also struggle with the lack of privacy, and at times, our smaller shared space feels more claustrophobic than cozy. However, downsizing for an urban lifestyle has given us the opportunity to live beyond our four walls, and that’s worth more than any amount of space could ever be.




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I thought the best holidays were going to be when my kids were little. I was wrong.

by with No Comment Xpandfy

My daughter-in-law called me recently to ask about Secret Santa. She was wondering if everyone would get involved, if I had any thoughts on stocking stuffers, and if there was anything in particular I might want, other than the Costco-sized jar of peanut M&Ms I had mentioned about 1,000 times.

My youngest son texted not long after to let me know he got three full days off for Christmas. He’ll be bringing his cat for a visit. We’ll all buy him cat treats. We will prepare casseroles and cookies, as well as overnight cinnamon rolls for the morning. We will wait to watch the main event, the Christmas movies, until we are all together.

This is my Christmas with adult kids. The kind of Christmas I dreaded when my four sons were little and I thought I had just those magical 18 holidays with them before it would all end.

I thought the best times were when they were little

I thought those Christmases were the best I would ever see as a mom because I think that’s the story we are sold. Christmas is for kids. It’s better with kids. It’s more fun, more magical, more everything. And I’ll tell you that I really wrung every second of joy out of Christmas when my kids were little in an absolute panic of memory-making.


Four boys during the holidays

The author pushed herself to make the holidays super special for her sons when they were little.

Courtesy of the author



I pushed the Santa agenda far longer than was socially acceptable. I baked every day, built gingerbread houses, and attended every Christmas concert. I bought the matching pajamas, I collected special ornaments and kept them in boxes for the boys to hang on our tree every year, no matter what.

I think I idolized the holidays, like a good Christmas might make up for any other shortcomings during the rest of the year. I overlooked how tough it really was on me in favor of the good mom checkmark I might get at the end of it all.

I can finally admit it was hard

And it was hard on me. I can admit this finally. Not just because I was on my own with my sons or because we were living right around the poverty line. But because I genuinely believed that the only Christmases that mattered happened when my kids were little. It was like a Doomsday clock was ticking down on my every year, tied up with a neat red bow. I had to build memories for them at any cost so they would have happy childhood memories and not look back on our life together as a failure.

I wish I could go back and talk to the stressed-out mom I was then. I would tell her that she could stop spending important January bill money on December toys. I would tell her that her kids will be OK. And yes, they want a few toys, but they will remember about one quarter of them by the next year.

Most of all, I would tell her that she has way more fun holidays ahead than she thinks. I would even argue that Christmas with adult kids is better than it is with little kids. The pressure is off. Right or wrong, they are grown now. I don’t have to keep any kind of special magic alive for them; they’ve seen behind the curtain, and they know I was back there all along.

It’s not all just on me

They see me. They appreciate me. Best of all, they are back behind the curtain with me now, too. They provide, along with me, trips to the grocery store for forgotten spices, coffee cream, and extra napkins. They buy gifts and tell me not to worry about anything. They lighten my load. I’m no longer the keeper of Christmas; we all are. Bringing a different kind of magic to whatever days we might have together over the holidays.

We bring in the old traditions from when they were kids, but also leave the door open for new things. New recipes, new ideas on how to celebrate. Chinese takeout for Christmas Eve one year or homemade pizza, depending on everyone’s work schedule. A little Baileys in our coffee while we open stockings. All of us together. The five of us, along with new partners, are perhaps the best Christmas gift of all. New family members who bring their own family traditions. We stay up late, we play cards with fun playlists full of music that’s new to me. I sleep happily.

I miss my boys being little. I always will. But these men and their partners and our holidays together? This feels like the real reward.




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