There were three in the bed and the mother said, “Get your dirty butt off of my face right now, before I send you back to your room. In the dark. Alone.”

Ah, co-sleeping with your babies. What a special, treasured time. I read book after book about breastfeeding and co-sleeping, and how those two things were crucial to having a close, bonding relationship with my child. So, of course, with baby #1, that’s exactly what I did.

Never mind the fact that I had just had a traumatic emergency C-section. Never mind, that my body was all discombobulated and I was dripping milk like a cow. I HAD TO CO SLEEP OR I WOULD HAVE FAILED AS A PARENT. We gave it a shot. She slept like an angel. She breastfed like a champ. I, on the other hand, got zero sleep, my boobs were exploding and I was terrified if I put her in the rock & play that she would surely grow up hating me and probably have a lower IQ.

First time parents are a real hoot.

Then we brought home baby #2. Her first night home was when my brain and body dove head first into the wonderful world of postpartum anxiety and OCD. I was terrified to put her down. I was terrified to smoosh her. I was terrified to breastfeed her. I felt guilt that my eldest had to share me now, and blah blah blah.

So, I put that kid in the rock & play and said, ” You’re going to have to just figure this out. I’ll feed you and all that, but seriously, you’re just going to need to figure out how to put yourself to sleep. I was losing my mind and I need at least four hours per night here, kid.”

Onto baby #3…hahaha. She came out independent, and she also was put in the rock & play at a few days old, while I selfishly grabbed some sleep on my own.


So, all my kids did the whole sleeping thing differently. Here’s the thing…they are my heart. We are all so very, very connected. We love each other and I spend many afternoons wondering where these beautiful children came from. They’re all kind of smart…I think…

They’re all healthy. My second and third kids started sleeping through the night WAY earlier than my first.


My first child that STILL finds her way into my bed, but now we have mommy cuddles and it’s a snuggle fest every night.

It’s taken me literally this long to finally tell myself that my younger two are going to turn out just fine even though I said F THAT to co-sleeping and exclusively breastfeeding. They’re alive, healthy and happy. That’s my job and I’m doing a damn good job.


I’m mad that I put all that pressure on myself to be this perfect, attached parent.


Now my version of being the perfect attached parent, is when I have two kids in the shopping cart, and one dangling out of the Ergo as I check the expiration dates on milk at the grocery store.


I’ve also been considering putting a tent in the back yard and tell them they can go camping every night… but it’s the middle of winter. That might be a little cruel.


Raise your hands up warrior moms, raise your hands up. Co-sleeping or not, we are some bomb ass mothers plowing through this crazy thing called parenthood.


(But I swear to God, if a stinky butt makes its way to my face in the middle of the night tonight, I’m leaving.)


Children. Ah, they come out all cute and snuggly, don’t they? Newborns have this smell, which I’m sure baffles scientists all over the world, but the smell. The smell of a newborn just touches you right to your soul. They’re fresh. They have the entire world at their fingertips. They are the future.


HAHA. Let’s talk about that future that I am currently living in.


This morning, like most mornings, I tried to use the bathroom by myself. It never happens. So, there I was about to flush and in comes hurriciane Maeve (my two year old). I asked her very politely to leave. Actually, that’s a complete lie. I told her to get the hell out of the bathroom, and she refused. She refused, because she wanted to see what was in the potty. ” SHOW ME POTTY! SHOW ME POTTY!”, she screamed over and over. I had to show her, and also lost another little bit of my dignity.

IMG_3310*I have no idea why Fionas foot is involved in this picture.*



Toddlers are an endless amount of joy and absolute insanity.


This same child of mine also enjoys licking fleece pajama pants. So, watch out. If you come near her with a nice pair of cozy plaid pj pants, Maeve will try to lick your leg, and then say, ” Yum!”.


This beautiful, crazy child of mine also tried to eat snow of a strangers car. We didn’t notice at first, we were all in the parking lot, trying to load the kids into the van. We turned around and there she was, putting fistfuls of dirty car snow in her mouth.


She has a strong immune system, I”ll give her that.


My eldest did something really cool yesterday. I went to an amazing support group for women dealing with all kinds of postpartum issues. I was only gone two hours. As I walked in the front door, I noticed Fiona was wearing a little pin that my cool cousin Wendy (Hi, Wendy!) had sent me a few years back. I asked her where she got it. She replied, ” In your drawer.”


I asked her what she had done while I was at my group and she said, ” Went through all your drawers.” Oh, ok. Great. My four year old knows I own thongs. Just another day in the life of a mom named, Kate.


” Mommy, how come your underwear is broken?”

” It’s a thong.”



IMG_1576*That’s a guilty face.*

I love it when my kids do random, weird shit that they shouldn’t have been doing, and then they try to blame the 10 month old, who can barely walk.

For instance…

” Maeve, why did you eat all of the fruit snacks in the drawer?”


“…Lucie did it.”


Lying is not Maeve’s forte.

fullsizeoutput_2147*This picture was taken when it was 90 degrees out in July.*

Fiona will pull out every single dress up dress from the basement, and leave a huge mess behind. You can clean it up, or put the fate of your life in a pair of Cinderella shoes that you may trip over at any point.

You don’t know fear, until you’re suddenly crashing into the ground due to tripping on a princess shoe and possibly a tiara.


I can’t really complain about my 10 month old. She’s pretty chill, except when she’s feeding the dog her entire dinner. Sometimes, she encourages their bad behavior with her laughter. Her big sisters LOVE to make her laugh. Even if that invovles throwing  food across the table at dinner.


IMG_0846*She usually sleeps through the sounds of her sisters screaming and running in circles.*


IMG_1541* I blame myself for the great glitter bomb of 2017.*


I have faith that someday I’ll be able to use my bathroom alone.


It’s never going to happen. Nope. Never.

Having it all, or at least trying to have a litte bit of it.

I spend a significant amount of time judging myself as a mother. I question myself, I freak out, I worry, and I work myself up about it. I became a mom 4 1/2 years ago, and I”m still like… HOW DOES ANYONE KEEP IT ALL TOGETHER?!?


Sometimes, I’ll take my kids to target ( my holy place). It usually falls apart within 30 seconds.


That’s right. THIRTY-SECONDS.


My little dumplings refuse to sit in a cart. UNLESS, it’s a double cart with some sort of amazingness. My target specifically hides these carts from me, because I believe they truly  hate me. I try to compromise. I put the baby in the front, and I let the other two hang off the sides like they’re in balancing act via cirque du soleil. If I encounter a bump, the two of them usually go flying. Then it’s a disaster of booboos and, “MOMMY I NEED A TREAT TO FEEL BETTER.”


I give zero f*cks. I travel to target for one thing and one thing only. I end up leaving the store with about $3,000,000 brand new toys that were not on my shopping list. I want to scream at my kids, ” JUST GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND RALLY ON!”. But, instead they cry, I cry, we all cry.


It’s a little therapeutic crying in Target if you believe Target is a holy place, which I obviously do. Where else can you get a random glitter bath bombs and a box of Pinot Grigio?


If you’re thinking that Wallmart has these items, you’re wrong. Wallmart is where I go when I need a ton of gluten free shit when I’m feeling sorry for myself, Wallmart but that’s about it.


I praise God for target at least once a day.


I also pray that I can make it through the 20 aisles of random shit, without crying.


So… I saw this mom. Three kids. Maybe a little older than mine, but not by much. She has ALL THREE OF HER CHILDREN LISTENING AND COOPERATING. She didn’t even bribe them. I just wanted to reach out to her and beg her to show me her ways of magical parenting.


Just as I saw that mom, she may have seen me.

Her view would look a little like this…


My eldest daughter will have started screaming about needing new shoes before we’ve even made it through the $1 area. My middle child would likely be found rolling around in one of the card asiles, while screaming, ” MOMMY MOMMY MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMYYYY”


I might pretend she’s not mine. Just kidding. Kinda.


My baby will be crying in the cart while checking out all the flourescent lighting. I don’t blame her. She’s still kind fresh in this big ‘ol world right now. Apparently, the lighting in target is some sort of entertainment for her.


I’m also a huge advocate of going to target in my pjs. So, as you can tell, I’m a real gem.


But, I constantly compare myself. If that mom had her kids under control, whats wrong with me? Why can’t I do that?

I see moms all the time doing amazing things with their children. They help their kids down the slide, and swing them on the swings. Meanwhile, I”m trying to convince Maeve that it’s not safe to stand in the way of incoming traffic.


I’m so consumed with trying to be the best mom with the most snaps, the most instagram postings and the most Facebook likes. We all do it. Every single one of us.

Tha’ts motherhood though. We want to be the best parent we can be can be. Regardless, if we’re rasiing a tiny zoo full of monkeys, we are still doing our thing.


If you really think about it, we can do it all. I can balance two sippy cups, a package of wipes, and my 10 month old, while I walk up the stairs. I can do that.


I can always just quite comparing myself to the random super moms in my hood. They’re struggling too. We’re all in this together. This crazy, lovely, annoying, determined, and beautiful mess of it all. We’re all in it, and we can have it all. Having it all has a different description for each of us. For me, it’s balancing the kids on less that 4 hours of sleep. For others it might be as simple as cooking dinner and having your family eat it without complaining.

That’s having it all. And if you don’t have it all? Who cares. You’re still doing your amazing mom thing, you got this. I promise. You’ll soon realize your strength is beyond what you could have ever imagined.


I have to stop writing this now, because my two year old is literally trying to assault my four year old.


Ah, the joys of motherhood.



The Battle of 2017: My 10 month old vs my Christmas Tree.

Decorating my house for Christmas is one of my favorite things to do. It’s kind of weird, because I generally hate doing anything that invloves a significant amount of time of effort. For Easter, I’ll hang up a bunny. There. The house is decorated for Easter.


*Christmas shopping at Target, always a pleasure*

But, Christmas is different. We’ve inherited a lot of treasures from our parents and grandparents, and we like to display them. (Before I continue, I’d like to let you know that the *we* I am refering to is actually *me*. Ryan does the lights, I do the inside.) It’s fun for the kids to see all the memories from past holidays.


During Fiona’s first Christmas we drove hours to chop down our own tree. EVERYTHING HAD TO BE PERFECT. My first baby, only 7 months old, deserved the best Christmas of all time. We chopped that damn tree, put it up in our living room, and took about 1,000,000 pictures of her sitting by it. I remember thinking, ” Ah, this child will cherish these memories forever.”


…because a 7 month old can remember shit. NOPE. NO THEY CAN”T.


It was mostly for me. First time mom. Forgive me.

IMG_2733*Fiona and Maeve when I asked them to pose for a Christmas photo. #fail*

Then I popped out my middle kid and we gave up on chopping a tree. We went down to good ‘ol Homedepot and picked a tree from the lot. We let her big sister help decorate, since Maeve was only 5 months old. It was fun. Cute. Good times for all. Except for the fact that I had recently adopted an extremley needy, ancient beagle named Wrigley, who had a tendency to pee all over the damn tree all of the damn time.


*The Culprit*





Fast forward to this Christmas season. We once again went deep into the forsest with the sharpest axe we could find. We chopped down a 9 foot tall tree and carried it home on our backs.


That’s bullshit.


We went to Home Depot, picked out the first tree we saw. It was cold out and way past dinner time, everyone was on edge, except for me. I was having the time of my life wearing my light up, ugly Christmas sweater, with the sheer purpose of embarrassing my family. I like to think I was spreading love and light through the aisles at the store.


Later, we put the tree up, put the lights up, put the decorations up and decided to call it a day. I started cooking dinner, and put Lucie in her little walker. I had only turned my back for about 30 seconds, but she basically hightailed it over to the big, green, glowing thing. She reached into the branches and promptly TORE A ROW OF LIGHTS OFF. Not the typical, ” Oh, here’s a baby that just wants to play with that pretty ornament”. This was, “I’m going to take this bad boy down, one way or another, so brace yourself.”


Honestly, I feel like she and Maeve have secret meetings together regarding how they can join forces and lock me up in a psych ward ( Ok, so that actually happened, but it had nothing to do with them. Ha!) I have listened to them try to understand each others unique sister language. I have listened to them giggle and crack each other up. I have watched them stare at each other and hold hands. Fiona and I think there’s some kind of consipracy going on here.


So, I put the lights back. Again and again and again. I’m pretty grateful she’s not trying to eat the shiny, little bulbs, but only time will tell. We got our tree early this year, because we are traveling to Illinois for Christmas this year, but I also feel like the tree might not even make it to us having to leave. Lucie is going to make sure of that. Next year, I’m getting a little potted on that can sit on my kitchen table.


That’s a complete lie, but I’m going to keep telling myself that all the way into next years holiday season.


My children constantly make me laugh at the weird, random crap they do everyday with each other, and honestly, it fills my heart with so much joy I can’t even express it in words.


I should really count my blessings, because at least Maeve isn’t trying to climb up the damn thing.


Happy Holidays!

I wasn’t sure about doing this…

I’m trying to be an open book when it comes to mental health, particularly when it involves postpartum issues. I recently wrote a blog about my struggles with PPD/PPA. When I wrote that I was not ok. I thought if I wrote about it, it would make me feel better.


I started spiraling out of control. I started to feel hopeless again. I started having intrusive thoughts again. I pushed myself in to a dangerous, deceptive corner. I started to feel like I wasn’t the right mom for these three beautiful girls. I thought a lot of things.


I thought too much.


I decided to go get inpatient treatment, and it changed my life. I’m not ashamed about this, and I hope by writing this I can help another person struggling. My family (LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, THEM), didn’t want me to blog about this. It was kind of like, ” You don’t need to air your dirty laundry.” I respect that very much, but I also know that by writing about this and hoping reaches others, that I will have done something good.


I started noticing OCD issues.


I discovered I had rituals. I discovered that this OCD was interupting my my life. It caused my brain to spin, spin, spin at night so I never could sleep. I started to feel scared leaving the house, because I was certain something would happen. Maybe we would get into a car crash? It just goes on and on and on.


I thought I had tackled my postpartum issues. But, if theres anything I can learn from this is that… you’re not alone, and this shit takes time. Some of us need extra help, outside of the home. I was terrified for everyone to know I was in a psych ward for eight days, but those eight days changed my life. I walked in terrified, and I left with such happiness and bliss.

My entire family gave me so much love and support, whethere it was driving from Illinois to help with the kids, or my step-dad who drove 10 hours by himself to make sure he was here if we needed anything. My mom came too and organized all of my closests like a champ. I came out of the facility feeling so grateful and so loved.


The I want to share this, not only because I think it’s important, but also to reach out to everyone who is struggling. Life is worth living.

Let me repeat that.

Life is worth living.

To my fellow mamas… Your life is worth living. You are cherished and loved. If you need a reminder of that, hit me up and I will remind you how awesome you are. There’s also no shame in admitting that you might have a postpartum thing going on. Everyone wants to keep it quiet, because they probably dont know the correct response to something like this eithe.

I have some much to be grateful for.


My family. My family in Chicago, my family on the east coast… they came all the way out here to make sure Ryan and the girs were ok. We had wonderful babysitters that helped too.

I never thought I would do what I did, but I also know that because this happened I am healthier, happier, and eternally grateful for my entire family that supported and continously supports me.


Postparm diseases take away love, hope, sensibility, and your sanity.


I’m a warrior. I’m not going to let those things bring me down ever again. I hope you know that you are a warrior as well.


We got this mamas, we got this.fullsizeoutput_1c83

Traveling with young children? WHY?

People ask me all the time, ” How you manage to travel so often with your kids?” We travel to Chicago and New York/Connecticut a few times a year. I smile and say, ” It’s really not that bad!”




I spend hours packing, doing laundry, making bags of entertainment for the kids, and just generally making sure we have everything we need.

But what we really needs is noise erasing headphones. 


So here’s all the things that have gone wrong. I feel like by sharing this I might be able to help you make the decision to stay home forever.


  1. ” I’m sure that if we leave at 3 am for our 12 hour drive, the kids will go back to sleep and possibly sleep through a lot of the ride.” …HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA! They won’t sleep. In fact, they make it impossible for their siblings to even catch a quick cat nap. So, you end up with three very over tired children… which leads to my next point.
  2. SCREAMING. ALL OF THE SCREAMING. ” Hey, Maeve, do you want some pretzels?” “NO I DONT WANT PRETZELS I WANT M&MS. GET ME M&MS” Poor Lucie, she can’t even talk but she sure can scream. Fiona just straight up starts screaming without any prompting. I’m not talking the ” Oh no!” kind of screaming, it’s the ” THESE PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO TORTURE ME AND I NEED A MILKSHAKE RIGHT FUCKING NOW”. See? Not fun.
  3. Packing. When you have three kids and a husband, packing becomes a horrendous task. So, typically I end up over packing. The car is currently filled with kids, a husband, a dog, 3 huge oversized suitcases and not one single matching pair of socks for any of my kids, every coloring book ever made, a hefty supply iPads. My pediatrician asked if the kids were getting more than two hours of screen time a day. My response was, ” Nope! Never. NO.” My children are perfect, they don’t sit in front of the tv or iPad all day! HAHA. I can’t stop laughing. I praise Jesus for screen time, because mama has work to do. IMG_6850
  4. Reststops. Have you ever tried to get your three daughters in to the bathroom all at once? Yeah. Don’t do that. There will be toilet paper stuck to their shoes, and while changing the baby’s diapers your might notice that your kid is basically licking the floor. You only try to get your kids to go potty at the same time, you must really hate yourself.
  5. Candy. Bribe with candy. Works like a charm, until you find 15,000 dumdums all over your newly cleaned car. You can worry about that later.


It’s just really difficult. Even with two parents in the car. I’m actually writing this in the car halfway to Connecticut. That’s it. I’ve shared my reasons for never traveling ever again.




14650166_10101712599893367_4454690081221321115_nDon’t do it! Have a staycation.


Actually, we love being able to travel a lot to see our family, because we miss and love them. If I have to listen to 13 hours of screaming, it’s all worth.

I took a deep breath.

” I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart; I am I am I am” -Sylvia Plath


I am blissful. I am beautiful. I am bountiful. I am alive. I am a warrior. I am brave. I am strong. I am loyal. I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a daughter.  I am a sister.


I am worthy of all the gifts the world has to offer. I am.IMG_2554*I got this tattoo for my 31st birthday to remind myself of all of these things*


I am. I am. I am.