I was 16 years old the first time I went to a fancy restaurant. Le Quercy was located around the corner from Carnegie Hall in Midtown Manhattan and 40 minutes away on the subway from where I grew up in Elmhurst, Queens. But it seemed a world away with its crisp white linens, shiny silverware, and well-suited lunch patrons.

My French teacher, Madame Bassman, organized the field trip for our class, a group of about 20 kids. Many of us first-generation immigrants who didn’t exactly go unnoticed in our baggy jeans and Nike sneakers. Because even though we lived in a neighborhood where more languages were spoken than anywhere on the planet, we weren’t necessarily cosmopolitan. Far from it.

Yet, we all elected to learn French. To me, it was chic and sophisticated. Like Madame Bassman, who wore a pixie cut, colorful chore jackets, and clogs that made a clacking sound when she walked around the classroom. But it wasn’t her sense of style I remember most. It was the way she opened the door and showed us the possibilities.

I still remember sitting in that elegant room as she instructed us to order whatever we wanted. “Anything?” I asked.

“Oui, mademoiselle,” she replied.

I chose the filet de sole almondine, a buttery fish dish topped with sliced almonds and a squeeze of lemon that was unlike anything I had eaten before. But the meal, while delicious, was incidental to the sense of belonging I felt that day.

Madame Bassman didn’t have to take us anywhere. It wasn’t a job requirement. But she did it because she cared. Deeply.

I suspect that’s the same reason most teachers go into their profession. It certainly isn’t the money. According to a survey from the American Federation of Teachers (AFT), 74 percent of teachers live paycheck to paycheck. More than 70 percent work more than one job. And many are borrowing money to pay bills, including rent.

If you want a real time example of the stakes, take a look at what’s happening in Seattle as teachers talk about a possible strike less than one week before the city’s 50,000 kids go back to school. The Seattle Times reports that the union is asking for “improvements on special education supports, respectful pay, and relief from huge class sizes.”

Seems reasonable, right? But these kinds of demands aren’t being met across the U.S.

Not good. Especially when we consider that teacher morale is on the decline, as reported in The State of Teaching project from EdWeek. The same 2026 survey found that half of teachers have plans to leave the education field. And they’re serious. There’s already a teacher shortage across the country.

As we prepare for the new school year by shopping for supplies and slowly returning to routines, let’s not forget about the teachers who show up for our children when we’re not around. I was one of those kids and I bet you were, as well.

So, we need to make sure teachers know we care. Not just during Teacher Appreciation Week but all throughout the year. That requires asking what they need in the classroom and showing up for them beyond it, too. As advocates, allies, and voters.

I want my daughters to remember their favorite teachers and continue to feel their impact for years to come. Much the same way I still think about Madame Bassman whenever I step inside an upscale restaurant brimming with confidence.

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I feel good when I check off the tiny boxes in my to-do list. Always have. That little dopamine surge keeps me going. Like I’m earning my keep. Gold stars all around. But that need to optimize every minute can lead to guilt on days when I get derailed. Especially in this phase of my career in which I answer primarily to myself. And my “boss” doesn’t take it well when I’m unproductive.

This week’s mom, Emma Shulman, gets it. Three years ago, she was managing a global team as the VP of a tech company where she was the only woman in a senior leadership position. Now she’s a stay at home mom with dreams of publishing a novel. And while she loves taking her kids, ages 4 and 5, to their various activities, she admits that the post-corporate come-down hasn’t been easy.

Which brings me to how I met Emma. We’re both members of an accountability group I recently joined. (What can I say, I like being in community with other people working on similar goals.) During a recent Zoom call, Emma was sitting in her car as she waited for her children to get out of camp. She looked somewhat flustered as she explained to the others in the meeting that she hadn’t been very productive the last few weeks. I wanted to reach out and tell her it was ok. That summer is a tough time for mothers to be their high achieving selves. And so, I got in touch…

The Mommune Q&A:

What made you leave a successful corporate career?

Emma: I went back to work after I had my second child and the senior leadership team had made a lot of changes without me. But they hadn’t done any of the emotional labor. As soon as I returned they were like “thank goodness, can you talk to so and so?” Meanwhile, I was trying to find a place to pump in this office. I was stressed out. I realized this wasn’t who I wanted my kids to know me as. I remember calling my husband all choked up and telling him, “I might quit in the next few months.” Two days later, I put in my notice.

Did you feel like you needed to keep up the same level of productivity as a stay at home?

Emma: I took my Type-A energy and put it into my family. I was trying to be on top of everything. When my husband and I were both working full-time, we were a team. But I kicked him off the team. I was the coach now. I was going to potty train my daughter. But you can’t manage your two-year-old like a 40-year-old man who reports to you. It’s so much messier because she doesn’t want to poop in the potty, but she does want to pee in the potty. So, I was getting mad at myself if something didn’t work out.

Did it force you to change?

Emma: I’m more Type-B now because I had to let go of the control I had in the corporate world. I was very regimented and thrived on the routine of corporate life, especially as someone with ADHD. I had to figure out what my days would look like in this new phase of life. Sure, I was with the kids some days, and who truly knows what we did. But there were days when they were in school and I had no idea where the time had gone. Maybe I wrote for 20 minutes and then unloaded the dishwasher and afterwards realized a drawer needed to be organized. Part of that transition was working with my therapist and exploring medication. And that’s been great for me.

How else did that post-corporate comedown manifest itself?

Emma: We parted ways with our nanny because I started feeling so much guilt for spending money. I stopped getting my nails done. I stopped doing anything that I considered frivolous for myself. I felt self-conscious about what people would think. I wanted to prove that I’m a stay at home mom.

Do you still care about what people think?

Emma: I used to care how other people would define me in a room I wasn’t in, but I’ve slowly realized that it’s none of my business.

How do you want your kids to perceive you?

Emma: As someone who is really clear on her dreams and intentions. I want them to see that I’m trying. A few years ago, I wouldn’t do something unless I knew I was really good at it. I was going to be one of the best, if not the best. I don’t know if that comes from working in a male-dominated field and wearing the armor of being the only woman in the room. But now I’ll take pottery class. I’ll take a tennis lesson. I’ll write on Substack and get zero followers, zero likes, zero anything. And it has brought me so much joy to let myself do that.

What’s been the highlight of the summer with your children?

Emma: Spending time at the beach together looking for critters, boogie boarding, chatting while having snacks on our towels, starting to read Harry Potter. When I’m with my kids, I’m with my kids. The last thing I want is to have taken the risk of walking away from a growing career and not be present with them.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

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I first met this week’s mom, Rebecca Alvarez, seven years ago at a women’s conference I attended in Long Beach, California. She was selling intimacy products—lubricants, massage candles, menstrual cups—neatly laid out on a folding table outside. Nearby, her husband and tween daughter were ready to pitch in whenever she stepped away to nurse her 10-week old baby. As I watched their family dynamic, I was instantly drawn to the hustle of this young mom building a business while in the thick of it.

Today, Bloomi, the clean sexual wellness brand Rebecca created, is available across Target stores nationwide. That’s right, the same shop that boasts a core demographic of suburban millennial mothers. Coincidence? Not necessarily.

Rebecca wants moms to lean into pleasure. A trained sexologist with thousands of hours of coaching sessions, she recognizes moms are tired. “I understand. I’m tired, too,” she says. “However, it’s the getting started that often feels like more work than what it actually is. But once you connect, snuggle, have sex, or whatever it is, you’ll realize how nice it is.’”

So, next time you’re out buying diapers or body wash at Target, don’t forget to check out the personal care aisle.

The Mommune Q&A:

What do you hear most from moms when it comes to sex?

Rebecca: That they don’t have the energy for it. As a mom, our needs and desires often fall to the bottom of the list. I encourage people to not think about sex so much, but have fun with their partner because that’s what makes us start to feel good. But fatigue is pretty high right now. Politics, the state of the world, financial stress. All those things impact the libido.

How do you talk about sex with your daughters?

Rebecca: With my 7-year-old, it’s about safety, boundaries, and privacy. With my oldest, who is 18, it’s more about healthy relationships and making good choices for your body. I try to be an open-minded resource to her. I was the one insisting that she have condoms and birth control available if she’s going to enter that world, because I don’t want her to be unprepared. It’s still embarrassing for her, but she knows she can ask me anything.

How have you reframed the sex conversation?

Rebecca: I prefer to think of it as intimacy and body education. Sex can be a divisive word. Depending on how conservative you are or how you were raised, it can even be alarming. As a Latina, I grew up with abstinence-only education in school and church but that didn’t align with what I saw in practice. So, I knew there was a disconnect. My goal is to help people have important intimacy conversations and enjoy pleasure, which is good for our well-being and quality of life.

Did religion play a big role in your upbringing?

Rebecca: I grew up Catholic and my entire family was involved in the church. My mom taught Sunday school. My dad read bible scriptures on the lectern. I played guitar in the church band. But I fell away from the church because a lot of the messaging was unsettling for me when I became a divorced single mom after having my oldest daughter.

That was before you met your current husband and expanded your family. How did that period of your life impact the work that you do?

Rebecca: Being a single mom is the hardest job I’ve ever had. There’s a lot of pressure. I had very low desire after having my daughter. I was 23 and didn’t want a relationship. I knew I wanted to enjoy sex again and find a partner, but I felt like something was wrong with me. That’s when I started learning about postpartum depression and how the libido changes after you have a baby. I now understand these things clinically, but I first experienced them as a young mom. There was a lot of confidence-building that I needed to do early on.

Speaking of relationships, do you have mom friends?

Rebecca: My mom friends make me feel alive and human. I can let go and be myself with them. We laugh. We cry. We talk about everything from five-ingredient recipes to perimenopause. Nothing is off limits. I feel recentered when I see them.

Is there a mom you’d like to get to know? Perhaps someone whose sense of style you admire whenever you see them at the local coffee shop ordering your exact go-to drink (skim flat white, please!). Maybe you spot them at the playground and give them a smile as you each wrangle your respective children.

And yet, you haven’t worked up the nerve to say “hi” because you’re afraid they’ll think you’re a weirdo. After all, you’re not a preschooler prone to initiating interactions everywhere you go. You’re a grown-up used to keeping yourself to yourself.

But there’s something to be said about the ease young children display in making friends. They don’t worry about looking silly or sounding awkward. Nor do they overthink that first hello. They launch right in and start yapping.

And while I’m not saying you need to channel your friendly neighborhood 4-year-old, the latest stats indicate that most moms can stand to widen their social circles. According to Motherly’s most recent State of Motherhood Survey, 70 to 80 percent of mothers experience isolation.

In other words, moms need to get mingling. But why is it so hard to make the first move?

“Starting and sustaining conversations takes a little bit of bravery,” says this week’s mom, Nicole Haroutunian, who has gotten comfortable putting herself out there. “I have mom friends from my daughter’s dance class that I would only nod to for almost a year because no one had introduced us. Now we hang out all the time. And I’ve learned not to wait for an introduction.”

The Mommune Q&A:

What kind of friend are you?

Nicole: I’m a connector, an enabler, and a good hype-person. A few years ago, some friends and I were discussing our friend roles as “ands,” “buts,” or “ors.” The “ands” have tons of ideas, the “buts” point out what might not be realistic, and the “ors” problem solve and find alternate solutions. I am an “or” because I am willing to brainstorm—or obsess—over a problem until I can find a way to make something work.

Did you luck out finding your people?

Nicole: When I had a baby nine years ago, it was me, my husband, and our daughter. It was a pretty lonely and claustrophobic situation. Then I joined a local newborn group and found my community, which made everything easier. And it wasn’t just luck because I chose to raise my kid in a dense, diverse, lively neighborhood. I would rather live in this little apartment near lots of mothers, grandmothers, and nannies than have a playroom or backyard somewhere else.

Are you still friends with folks in your newborn group?

Nicole: Some have moved away. But my daughter and her best friend recently celebrated their ninth friend anniversary from when they met as 8-week-olds at our newborn group. Her parents are some of our very best friends. I’ve had a running text message with her mom for almost a decade.

What does that conversation look like?

Nicole: My daughter recently peeped one of my texts with this mom and said, “you never say ‘hi’ when you text her.” I said it’s because we’re never starting anew; it’s one ongoing conversation we’ve been having since we met. We live in the same building, our kids go to the same school, we’re in adjacent fields, and half of the activities we do and places we go to are together. We always have logistics to discuss, plans to hatch, questions to ask and answer, and support to give and receive.

What’s the practical side of having mom friends in the same life stage?

Nicole: Being in community with other moms and parents means almost never having to start from zero because someone else has already done the research. Like trying to figure out what after school activities to sign up for. Really boring stuff that no one else cares about. As our children go from being little kids to big kids, it’s also helpful to talk through any issues with other parents navigating this same stage.

You wrote two books (Choose This Now and Speed Dreaming) and host a literary event called Story Time for Parents and Caregivers that has inspired many friendships. Tell me about it.

When my first book was about to launch, someone asked me where my readers were, like physically. And I said, “Oh, they’re stuck at story time.” It hit me that babies don’t know what book is being read to them. They’re just at story time, looking at people’s faces and hearing words. Why does it have to be a baby book? And so, we organized a morning literary event that welcomes babies and their caregivers. It’s become all about community.

Sounds like a lovely way to meet other parents. Speaking of, is there someone you’d like to meet?

Nicole: My daughter has a friend from camp she’d like to hang out with, but they’re too young to make that happen on their own. So, I need to crack the mom code with this mother. I’ve tried and failed but I have to muster up the fortitude to try again. She seems perfectly nice, so I’m working on it.

Mom Thread

Nicole’s favorite mom-centered books:

• Mothers and Other Fictional Characters by Nicole Graev Lipson

• Lessons for Survival by Emily Raboteau

• Leave by Shayne Terry

• Frontier by Erica Stern

• Hell Gate Bridge by Barrie Miskin

• The Good Mother Myth by Nancy Reddy

• Motion Dazzle by Jocelyn Jane Cox

• Goblin Mode by Caroline Hagood

• Hum by Helen Phillips

• All the Mothers by Domenica Ruta

• Unfit Parent by Jessica Slice

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My daughters recently started divvying up my stuff: dresses, jewelry, bags, even an old pair of patent leather heels I haven’t worn in years. None of it branded Chanel or Cartier, but rather things they deem pretty enough to bicker about.

“I get the gold hoops,” one of them says. “Not fair!” the other chimes in. “You already called the necklace with the green beads.”

I listen with amusement as the list grows longer. Only stepping in when they start arguing about the pajamas currently on my back, as if I was a mannequin at a tag sale. “And when exactly are you planning to collect these items?” I ask, interrupting the conversation.

“After you’re no longer here,” the 11-year-old answers matter-of-factly. Her sister, 13, nods in agreement, giving my shoulder a sympathetic rub.

Not sure when my girls came around to the idea that one day I would be gone but the revelation brings me a sense of peace I didn’t expect.

I remember the first time they asked if I was going to die. They were about 3 and 5. I was putting them in bed and getting ready to say good night when, in true kid form, they brought up the topic seconds before I could exit the room. Their big brown eyes observing me in the dim room as the ocean waves emanating from the sound machine on their dresser filled the silence. I let the imaginary surf wash over me as I gathered my thoughts, keenly aware of how tiny they seemed tucked under the covers in their bunkbed.

“Hopefully when I’m very, very old,” I said, relieved to have found a satisfactory enough answer.

The next day, they asked again. I wasn’t surprised. Death had always been a part of our lives. They had lost both grandmothers and their paternal grandfather before they could get to know them. In fact, they had visited enough burial sites to know gravestones were not Halloween decorations but symbols of remembrance, even if they had no memory of the people laid to rest below.

But as many questions as I fielded about death, none had previously touched on my own demise. So, when the subject came up all those years ago, I desperately wanted to tell them that I would never leave them. That as their mother I would always protect them. I wanted badly to put their little minds at ease. Instead, I repeated the same line from the previous night, careful not to confuse them.

As they’ve gotten older, our conversations have become more complex. Along the way, we’ve discussed why people die, what happens after death, and whether heaven exists. And I’ve always used clear, concrete language, leaving space for them to formulate their own thoughts and opinions.

My mother didn’t like talking about death. She believed that mentioning the d-word was an invitation for it to barge through our door, kick its dusty feet up on the coffee table, and stay a while. “Let’s chat about something happier,” she’d often say. As a young girl, I considered death taboo, only to be spoken of in hushed tones and never in relation to my mom. But death, cliché as it may sound, is a reminder to live fully in appreciation of each moment we have together.

That my children recognize my mortality is a good thing and one more sign that they’re maturing. I also see it as reassurance that they’ll be alright when the time eventually comes. My only hope is that it arrives when I’m very, very old. Until then, my daughters can borrow those gold hoops and anything else they want. Geez! “You just have to ask,” I tell them.

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Tetushki, meaning “little aunts” in Russian, is an affectionate term used to describe women who take an active role in the lives of other mothers and children in their midst, providing hands-on support and dollops of love. It’s this kind of community care that enveloped cookbook author Polina Chesnakova after immigrating from Ukraine at three months old with her parents, and settling among a community of refugees from across the former Soviet Union in Rhode Island.

Among the Tetushki were her mother’s five sisters. “My husband calls my family the matriarchy because they’re all strong, opinionated women,” says Polina, who is estranged from her father and credits her mom and aunties (both biological and honorary) for shaping who she is today. But she also recognizes the pressures women in her culture have always shouldered.

“My mom’s generation of women were expected to be the caretakers of the family and house. Men’s primary duty was to work. Everything else fell on the women. My mom and her sisters mothered selflessly, but often at the expense of their own self-care,” she says. “I almost feel a little soft compared to them. I emulate that devotion, but with better boundaries. When I overextend myself, I find that I'm not the best mom or partner.”

It’s a sentiment that resonates. So, it’s good that Polina has her own posse of mom friends (her grown-up Tetushki) to remind her that it’s ok not to do it all.

The Mommune Q&A:

Your latest cookbook, Chesnok, is a love letter to the foods you grew up with. Did your mom and aunts have a say in the recipes?

Polina: Writing the book meant stepping back in time to think about my relationship with these foods. There’s the semolina porridge, every child’s first meal. I hated it as a kid. I remember my mom chasing me around the table for another spoonful. I got tearful when I made it for my own kids (ages 4 and almost 1). All the recipes come from my mom and aunts, developed over phone calls and kitchen days. I see the book as a family heirloom I can pass down to my children.

What kind of mother did you have?

Polina: My mom worked full-time. So, she relied on her sisters to care for me. I spent a lot of time hanging out with my cousins, having sleepovers at my aunts’ houses. My mom had to juggle it all but she never complained. She still comes over twice a week to help me with the kids.

She sounds like a very involved grandmother. How does she influence your parenting decisions?

Polina: My mom and I are very close. She’s my best friend. Her voice is in my head all the time. When I break from her advice, it really weighs on me. But at the end of the day, you have to make the best decision for yourself and your children.

What do you disagree about?

Polina: My mom believes the most beneficial thing you can do for young children is stay home with them. So, when my son started daycare at six months old, my mom would tell me he was too small. How can I leave him with other people? But I am a better mom when I have time to myself and I’m not home with them all day.

Has it been different with your daughter, who is almost a year-old?

Polina: With my daughter, we have a part-time nanny because we weren’t able to get her into daycare. Since I work from home, there’s also immense guilt and privilege. I’m here on my computer while paying someone else to take care of my child in the next room. Even when I don’t have work, I need to feel like I’m being productive.

You have to reframe that time as your own, no matter what you do with it. Maybe you’re using it to see friends?

Polina: It’s easy to lose yourself in the grind; the weeks bleed into months, the months into years. I love spending time with my family, but I’m re-energized when I step away and go for a bike ride or dinner with a mom friend. It gives us space to talk about our children and spouses. Those moments when you realize someone is going through the exact same thing are so powerful. They remind me I am not alone in this.

You were in a car accident about a decade ago and your hand was severely injured. How does that experience inform who you are today?

Polina: My son noticed my hand for the first time a year ago. He was like, “Mommy, your hand looks different. You only have three fingers.” I felt embarrassed but I decided to be transparent about what happened. Now his friends are starting to notice. It takes courage not to flinch.

But how did it impact how you move through motherhood?

Polina: Going through that showed me my own inner strength. That I can get through hard times, even as a mother. What once felt defining is now just a small part of who I am. It’s important to have self-compassion.

This interview has been lightly edited for publication.

I am not a romance reader. I’ve tried and it’s not my thing. But my 13-year-old is a different story. As soon as she finishes a YA romance, she starts over from page 1. And while I love that she’s an avid reader, I have been known to plant other genres on her book shelf in the hope that she’ll mix it up. Does she really need to read that many kissing scenes? But this week’s mom, Kaitlin Andrews, a regular at a bookstore called The Ripped Bodice, is quick to say yes, yes she does.

Kaitlin is a mother to two girls, ages 12 and 13, and the New York director of The Schools Consent Project, an organization that brings lawyers into classrooms to talk to students about consent through a legal lens. She uses every opportunity to teach her own kids about healthy relationships. “Romance novels present a fantasy where men listen to women and care about them,” Kaitlin says. “This shouldn’t be a fantasy. Women want to be respected and treated nicely, and I want my daughters to have that experience in future relationships.”

I’m lucky to call Kaitlin a friend. And so is my daughter. The two have such an easy rapport that I often tell Kaitlin she’s a teenager at heart. “Netflix certainly thinks so,” she jokes. But her ability to connect with young people runs deeper. “I was a lawyer in Brooklyn Family Court for 14 years and represented thousands of kids during that time,” she says. “One of my weird skills is explaining legal concepts to children. I’ve always enjoyed conversations with kids.”

That same skill is now aimed at teaching tweens and teens about consent with the goal of preventing gender-based violence. No one better for the job.

The Mommune Q&A:

You and I both have middle schoolers. How do you tackle consent conversations at that age?

Kaitlin: We talk to sixth graders at the end of the school year because they change so much in that first year of middle school. They’re tossed into a pond of new kids, still figuring out who they are. That’s when we introduce CSAM (child sexual abuse material): possessing, distributing, taking, or requesting explicit photos, videos, livestreams, or AI generated images of anyone under 18. It’s happening in a lot of schools, and most kids don’t understand it’s a crime. In one seventh-grade classroom multiple kids told me they’d been offered Roblox money by an adult or kid to take off their shirt and send a picture.

I’m sure a lot of tricky topics come up. Do they always listen to the adults in the room?

Kaitlin: At the end of a workshop, we talk about how to respond if somebody says that they’ve been assaulted. Recently, an eighth-grade boy said, “I think it matters if a girl is wearing a flimsy top, like maybe she is asking for it.” I happened to be in that class and gently brought up the voices of boys who had the right answer. It’s important for kids to hear from the lawyer in the room, but it’s even more important for them to hear from their peers.

What conversations are coming up with high schoolers?

Kaitlin: It’s always illuminating talking with twelfth graders. At the end of each workshop, we ask them for their biggest takeaway. And some of them didn’t know they could report being sexually assaulted if they’d been drinking. That seems so basic but it’s a common misunderstanding. You always have the right to report an assault, regardless of your age and whether you consumed alcohol.

As someone who talks to a lot of kids, what keeps you up at night?

Kaitlin: I worry that kids are living their lives online and don’t always know how to talk to each other. I see too many bad things happening on Snapchat and Instagram and won’t let my kids use those platforms for as long as I can. But I’m also realistic that that’s how kids communicate. I don’t want to deny my kids a social life. I want them to value in in-person socializing more than the online experience.

What were you like as a teen?

Kaitlin: I grew up in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere seven miles up a mountain by a lake. When I was a teenager, my friends’ moms would be like, “do we have to drive up there?” My mom was always asking if I was ready for birth control. She was very open about all that. Even if I wasn’t dating anyone, she made sure I knew it was an acceptable option.

Would you say you’re similarly open with your kids?

Kaitlin: My kids are a year and a half apart. When we had the sex conversation, I had to have it with both of them because I didn’t want the oldest relaying information that was weird, so we sat together at night and read a book. It took us a couple weeks to carefully go through it. We also watch romance movies and shows together, and we talk about how the characters behave. Lately, we’ve been watching Off-Campus, a college soap on Amazon Prime, with a lot of fast-forwarding from me.

How important are mom friends to you?

Kaitlin: Mom friends are vital. I’m a very shy person, but I had to make a conscious decision to talk to people once my kids started elementary school. I wanted to model for them how to put yourself out there. And it’s been even more valuable having friends whose kids have grown up alongside mine. Making friends gets harder as you get older, so I’m determined to hold onto my social life as my kids get older, too.

Mom Thread | Romance Novel Edition

Here are some of Kaitlin’s fave adult and YA romance novels (and she’s read them all):

• Business Or Pleasure by Rachel Lynn Solomon

• The Deal by Elle Kennedy

• Female Fantasy by Iman Harirri-Kia

• Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood

• Icebreaker by A.L. Graziadei

• Imogen, Obviously by Becky Albertalli

In case you weren’t aware, the World Cup is in full swing. As a fair-weather fan who only shows up during major tournaments, I ordered my jersey months ago and am cheering for the same team I’ve been “following” since birth. Colombia, of course! I was born and raised in New York City, but I will always embrace the country my parents immigrated from. Nothing can erase this part of my identity. It endures and lives on in my children, who may one day no longer claim the culture as their own.

That’s the thing about identity. It is ever-evolving, never simple, and at times confusing. Just ask this week’s mom, Argelia Rico. As a child, she crossed the border from Mexico with her mother and sister, an experience which continues to shape how she moves through the world. “My ability to stay, belong, and build a life here has always depended on something outside of myself,” she says.

It’s an uncertainty she’s learned to live with. Holding her breath every two years when she has to reapply for legal status. “My fate is in the hands of whoever takes my case at the USCIS [U.S. Citizens and Immigration Services]. That person can reject or allow me to continue staying here.”

This state of limbo has influenced how Argelia sees herself. “I often feel like I don’t fully belong in Mexico or in the United States,” she says. “I wasn’t born here, but I also wasn’t raised there.” It also brings up the question of what she would do about her 14-year-old daughter if her residency application was ever denied.

The Mommune Q&A:

What would happen to your daughter if you had to go back to Mexico?

Argelia: She would stay here. Her dad has half-custody so he’d never let her go. I also couldn’t uproot her whole life. She’s 14 now and it wouldn’t hurt me as much as when she was little. She started protesting with me at age 5 and has always known this was a possibility. But we haven’t talked about it in depth recently even though the political climate is so much worse. I know she’s worried.

Do you remember moving to the U.S.?

Argelia: The first time we crossed the border, my mom paid someone off to let us through. I was an infant and my sister was barely a toddler. She carried me in her arms and held my sister’s hand. When I was 7, we went back to Mexico to see my grandma, who was sick. We crossed the desert to get back here, and my sister and I had no idea how dangerous it was. We grew up watching The Wild Thornberrys and thought we were on safari. My mom even bought us boots. I remember some guy telling her to make us shut up because we wouldn’t stop talking. We never saw my grandma again.

Why did your mom leave Mexico?

Argelia: My mom never planned on coming to the United States. She had a good job, but my father was physically abusive. She came to America to get away from him. I knew that growing up. My father is still in Mexico. He’s never been in my life.

How was your childhood?

Argelia: My childhood was rough. My mom really struggled in relationships. I remember being 4 and getting in between my mother and her boyfriend when they were physically fighting, but my arms weren’t long enough to separate them. That same guy came into my school at lunchtime crying and begging me to tell my mom to take him back. I was in Kindergarten.

How’s your relationship with your mom now?

Argelia: I see her almost every day. We like to cook together and make big batches of food. She’s been single for most of my adult life.

You’re also single. Has that been a conscious decision on your part?

Argelia: There’s trauma there, for sure. I haven’t actively dated because I’ve always appreciated it being just me and my daughter; walking around the house in our underwear. We’ve always been close. It would take someone special for me to bring them into our home. I also cherish my friendships. I value the women in my life. I’m always the third wheel, and my friends never make me feel bad.

Did you always expect your daughter’s dad to be a present father?

Argelia: When I got pregnant at 17, I thought I could do this on my own. My mom raised me and my sister. I wasn’t sure how long my daughter’s dad would stick around. And I didn’t have much faith in men. Thankfully, he has always been in her life. I didn’t realize how much love she could get from her dad and his family, and now I can’t imagine what it would be like without them.

What’s your mom superpower? The one thing only you can provide?

Argelia: I’m really patient with my daughter, and she values that. Even during these angsty teen years, I don’t engage in bickering whenever she gets upset. I can tell that she wants me to argue with her, but I don’t go there. We’re also really funny together. We can always make each other laugh about silly things.

Mom Thread | Substack Edition

• The BabyCenter origin story is fascinating. Spoiler: The MBA grads who founded the media company deduced that new and expecting parents were “price insensitive.” Meaning they were ready to spend on anything that would make life with a baby easier.

• My go-to expert for all things tween and teen–related is Dr. Lisa Damour. And in her latest newsletter, she has lots of great advice on how to make the most of the summer with older kids. Sending you all strength. We can do this!

• The bottom line: If you want to instill a love of reading in your kids, follow their lead. “This is, I think, one of the great misunderstandings adults have about picture books. Adults are often looking for something worthy. Children are looking for something alive,” writes librarian Rachel Bachman.

Signing up to chaperone a school field trip during the last weeks of school isn’t a decision that comes easily. But your child insists and, in a moment of weakness, you cave. And when your child personally tells their teacher that you are going, and their teacher announces it to the other parents, there is no backtracking.

Not that you would. Even though you’ve already put in your time in previous years helping to wrangle kids through crowded museums, petting zoos, and performance spaces. No, you show up, once again hoping for the best. Suppressing the memories of long, bumpy school bus rides filled with children talking and singing and screaming and laughing—at the same time. Forgetting the stress of watching a bunch of kids in crowded spaces.

I am that mom. And I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a reluctant hand raiser. When anything needs to get done at my daughter’s elementary school, I turn into that kid in the back of the classroom hoping, praying not to be called on. But my fifth grader is graduating this year and I’m feeling nostalgic. I also have a seventh grader and know full well that middle school doesn’t have as many opportunities to see our kids in their element, interacting with their peers. Nor do older kids want us there. (Sorry!)

That’s how I ended up in the blazing heat in Coney Island during “Education Day” last week, when kids from seemingly dozens of New York City schools descended on the legendary Brooklyn amusement park to watch a minor league baseball game (go Cyclones!). And if you've ever been to, say, Disney in peak summer, you know that kids in a crowd are basically identical from behind. Which makes losing one terrifyingly easy. In fact, there were a few times I had to reroute children who kept following other groups. (Queue the facepalm emoji.)

All the while, I had my eye on the time. Can you blame me? As the end of school approaches in the Northeast (kids in parts of the South have been out since mid-May), I am barely keeping up with the celebrations, ceremonies, shows, plays, projects, and coffee chats. This time of the year always catches me by surprise even though I know the drill.

So, the field trip felt like one more thing on top of a lot of things. And though I enjoyed playing rock paper scissors, debating whether ketchup or mayo would win in a condiment war, and eavesdropping on my fifth grader’s conversations with her besties, I was more than ready to go when the teacher announced we were leaving. Phew! Almost there, I thought.

But then a fellow chaperone and dad slipped away and returned with a box of ice pops for the entire class. “Not all heroes wear capes, huh?” I said to him as kids clamored around him choosing between cherry, strawberry, or blueberry. It was a moment of pure kid joy. The kind that scrubs away any ill feelings about field trips.

When I asked this dad, who happens to hold the record for most field trips chaperoned, why he keeps showing up, he told me that his mom never missed a thing. And he never forgot. That’s the power of moms: The love they pour into us shapes how we show up for our own kids.

Somehow that was the nudge I needed to get back on the bus and join the Katseye singalong. With a smile on my face.

Mom Thread | Movie Edition

• Ask E. Jean feels like required viewing for all women. It traces E. Jean Carroll’s career as groundbreaking journalist, author, and esteemed advice columnist. And delves into how she became the only woman to beat Donald Trump twice in court. “The film is a portrait of an indomitable woman who proved it’s never too late to reclaim your voice, rewrite your story, and change the world.”

• I recently discovered this documentary and the description breaks my heart. All the Empty Rooms documents the empty bedrooms of children lost to school shootings. A collaboration between News correspondent Steve Hartman and photographer Lou Bopp, the film explores the lives of forgotten families dealing with grief and loss.

• Liz Sargent’s debut drama, Take Me Home, is a labor of love and it shows. The movie stars her sister Anna Sargent as Anna, a 38-year-old Korean adoptee caring for her aging parents while trying to imagine a future of her own. The film explores caregiving, disability, and aging. The through line? Everyone will need care or will provide care at some point in their lives.

Thanks for reading! Please tap the ❤️ button, restack, or share with a mom or caregiver in your life.

MOM: LaWanda Toney
JOB: Communications Strategist
LOCATION: Fort Washington, Maryland

Have you ever taken a solo trip as a mother? You know, a vacation that’s all about you. Not your kids. Not your partner. Not your bestie. But you. Out there in the world basking in the pleasure of your own company. I categorize these getaways as “family trips” because everyone benefits when moms get a chance to recalibrate and reset. Trust me. Even if your crew stays home, they will feel the warmth of your post-vacation glow. And no one deserves an escape more than a mother.

Take this week’s mom, LaWanda Toney, for example. She’s an ex federal government employee who has worked hard to reinvent herself this past year and half all while caring for her 13-year-old son and aging parents and mourning the death of her brother. It’s a lot. So, when her husband asked how she’d like to celebrate an upcoming milestone birthday, she told him she wanted to go away. Alone.

The first trip was to Sedona, Arizona. “Initially, it felt weird. I was like, ‘what am I doing? How is this going to work?’ But I picked the hotel I wanted to stay at, the restaurants I wanted to eat at, the activities I wanted to do,” LaWanda says. “Turns out I’m great at traveling alone. I enjoy time with myself and I know what I like—libraries, consignment shops, visiting different neighborhoods—all things my family doesn’t care about. I’m already planning my next trip to Martha’s Vineyard.”

Traveling solo has taught LaWanda some important lessons but there’s one that sticks out: “I used to pre-plan meals for my family,” she says. “But now I’m like, ‘these fools can get food; they’re not gonna starve to death. Why would I make it harder for myself by making lasagna and all kinds of stuff when they probably want to eat junk while mom is gone.”

Yes, LaWanda, yes! Let’s all try to do less. They will survive.

The Mommune Q&A:

When you’re not plotting your next trip, how do you keep momming through the never-ending news cycle?

LaWanda: Some days I have to disconnect from what’s happening in the world and zero in on what’s going on at home to be able to function. I don’t watch the news as much as I used to. It adds an extra layer of anxiety. I’d rather focus on being a mom and see what’s going on with my son. At 13, he’s kind of a closed book.

That’s life with a teen. How do you handle that?

LaWanda: He comes to us when he hears something and wants to know if it’s true. When my husband was let go from the government last year and I finished my term, he had a lot of questions. Because of where we live, many of his friends’ parents were also out of work. But we didn’t want him to worry. My husband and I knew we would have to give us some things but as long as our son got to play basketball and enjoy summer vacation, we were willing to make other sacrifices so that his life stayed normal. I want him to have a childhood for as long as he can and not feel like he has to become an adult because adult things are happening.

Were you protected from adult things as a kid?

LaWanda: I’m the middle child. I had an older brother and a younger sister, and in a lot of Southern Black families, the oldest girl is the oldest. When the parents go out, you’re in charge. You are responsible if things go awry. You have to keep your siblings in line, including your older brother, who’s like “are you crazy?” But I felt like I couldn’t mess up. As an adult, I was always the mom among my friends.

What kind of mom did you have?

LaWanda: I need to describe my grandmother to describe my mother. My mother’s mother was hard-nosed, stoic, prim and proper. You couldn’t chew gum, whistle, talk too loud, or laugh without covering your mouth. She was a strict Southern lady. And because my mother was raised this way, she was determined to raise us differently. She gave us freedoms she didn’t have. And she never told us what to do. Her mother made all the decisions for her, right down to her career as a teacher. Whenever I asked my mother advice, she’d say, “I don’t want to tell you what to do.” She was hands off. It made me very independent. But when I met my husband and saw him with his family, I realized that it’s nice to have people to lean on when life gets complicated. To this day, I’ll call my mother-in-law before I will call my mother.

Was your mother affectionate?

LaWanda: She didn’t show love physically. No hugging, no kissing. When my sister had the first grandchild, I told my mom, “you cannot do him like you did us; you’re going to have to express love.” And she did it. It’s nice to see her as a grandmother even though I can tell it’s still hard for her.

Your parents are getting older. What has that made you realize about your own motherhood journey?

LaWanda: My parents are like rebellious teenagers. I have three teens right now. My 13-year-old son is the easier one. My parents don’t need me 100 percent but they need help and they resist it. They get angry when I come in and try to sort things out. They go silent. They feel like they’re losing their privileges. My father can’t drive and he depends on my mom for that. And my mother had a heart attack last year. So, my sister and I are asking the questions: Are you taking your medicine? When was the last time you went to the doctor? Can we talk to your doctor? My mom feels like we’re parenting them.

Where do you draw strength from?

LaWanda: My parents made sure I did all the things I wanted to do: go to college, leave home and move away from them, pursue a better life. I feel obligated to repay that. And despite the ways they leaned on me too heavily as a kid, I had a great childhood. Picnics in the park. Watching The Cosby Show together as a family. Scrabble games where they never let me win. Those memories motivate me to show up for them.

Thanks for being part of The Mommune. If you enjoyed what you read, please tap the ❤️ button, restack, or share with someone you know. Take care!

MOM: Neema Andrew
JOB: Student
LOCATION: Denver, Colorado

The old adage that it takes a village to raise a child gets repeated often. But when most of us look around, we’re left wondering where the heck is our village. That’s because it isn’t easy to build a support system. And for time-strapped mothers who already have too much on their plates, the thought of doing one more thing can, well, tip us over the edge. So, when I hear about communities that exist for the sole purpose of scaffolding vulnerable parents, my ears perk up.

This week’s mom, Neema Andrew, criss-crossed the country looking for such a place when her son was born four years ago. “In the first 18 months of his life, I traveled to six states in search of stability,” she says. “I was hoping family and friends would come through but a lot of doors were closed.” Neema, who was born and raised in Tanzania, the youngest of 10 siblings, suddenly found herself alone.

Eventually she arrived at Warren Village, in Denver, Colorado, a housing campus for low-income single-parent families offering subsidized rent, childcare services, parenting courses, and financial classes, all designed to put residents on a path towards self-sufficiency. “They help moms go from surviving to thriving and give us our dignity back,” says Neema, who had to learn to trust that people would want to help her, no strings attached.

The Mommune Q&A:

Have you found a sense of belonging at Warren Village?

Neema: It’s hard to trust at first. I was protective of my heart and son. But when you’re surrounded by other mothers, you realize you’re not alone in this. There’s a sisterhood there. A shared understanding. You don’t have to explain yourself for someone to say, “I got you.”

How did your upbringing in Tanzania shape who you are today?

Neema: I grew up in a Christian home within a collectivist culture that isn’t about the individual but the group as a whole. You don’t find your own path. You fall in line and follow your family’s wishes. You don’t question authority figures. You obey. Saying “yes” is a sign of respect. So, as a young person, I didn’t know who I truly was.

How would you describe your identity now?

Neema: I am figuring it out, especially as a mother. But healing my inner child has been a big part of that. Connecting with younger versions of myself and remembering the simple things that brought me joy has helped me understand who I am now and who I want to become.

What is your relationship with religion at this stage of your life?

Neema: My dad was a pastor and I was raised with a lot of fear. Love was not unconditional. I don’t want my son to be scared of me or feel like he can’t come to me for anything. I want him to know that I will always love him whether he is “good” or not.

What kind of mom raised you?

Neema: My mom died when I was 9. She was the glue of the family. Even though I only knew her for nine years, she taught me the meaning of kindness. I watched her give her time and love generously, forgive people who treated her badly, and never turn anyone away. I still feel her impact today.

How do you keep her memory alive?

Neema: My mom’s beauty routine was simple: perfume, hair, jewelry, and red lipstick. Lipstick was her thing and sometimes she’d a dab a little on me. When she did, I felt beautiful. Like her. And she was beautiful inside and out. Now, as a grown woman, I always wear lipstick because it reminds me of her.

Are you close to your sisters?

Neema: My sisters live all over the world. We’re two to three years apart. And all of them are mothers, but we’re not as close as we’d like to be. When my dad married my stepmom and they came to the United States, we weren’t encouraged to stay connected. We respect each other, because that’s what you do in a collectivist society, but I can’t easily pick up the phone and call them.

Mom Thread

• 50 Cent on losing his mom as a kid: I used to feel like everything that was going wrong was going wrong because my mom wasn’t there.”

• The United States is one of the only countries in the world to not guarantee any form of paid leave.

• An opinion piece on Trump’s new website courting moms: “A smart countermovement should take motherhood seriously, not as rhetoric but as policy and vision.”

MOM: Alyssa Reynoso-Morris
JOB: Children’s book author
LOCATION: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Being a single mom is hard, and when you’re the child of a single mom, you have a front row seat to the chronic burnout, emotional labor, and financial strain that can come with this role. Maybe you get pulled in as another capable body who can pitch in and relieve the pressure. It’s often the plight of the eldest daughter, who wants to please and puts everyone else’s needs ahead of her own until she grows up and decides she’s done enough of that.

At age 10, Alyssa Reynoso-Morris was that eldest daughter, constantly reminding her little brother that she wasn’t his mom. Sure, she was the one watching her siblings when their mother was at work or school, but she only wanted to be a big sister. “My mom did an amazing job but this responsibility was thrust on me. I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” says Alyssa. “When I considered having kids of my own, I was like, ‘I’m good, I did that already.’”

Instead, she vowed to travel the world, and she did, living in India and Tanzania along the way. And savoring the freedom that comes with answering only to yourself. Yet, here she is today, a children’s book author with a 6-year-old daughter and 19-month-old twin boys at home, growing ladybugs and butterflies alongside them. Her own metamorphosis complete.

The Mommune Q&A:

You went from not wanting kids to having three of them. What changed?

Alyssa: I met my partner, and he wanted to be a dad. It wasn’t a deal breaker because what I really didn’t want to be was a single mom. All the women in my family were single moms. Dozens of women. And I saw everything they went through. But when I invited my partner to Thanksgiving dinner and saw him on the floor playing with my cousins’ kids and chasing them around, I was like, “who is this man?” And so, we had a real conversation about what parenting together would look like.

How “real” was this conversation?

Alyssa: We talked about division of labor, parenting philosophies, specific problems that could come up. I used my cousins who are parents as case studies, asking my partner how he would handle whatever issues they were struggling with. Ultimately those conversations made me realize that we were in sync. I could do this.

How do you define good enough parenting?

Alyssa: I’m a recovering perfectionist, so it’s tough. I always feel like I’m not doing enough, especially since the twins were born. I’ve never been needed so much by different people at the same time. I remind myself that my daughter knows that we love her, that she’s safe with us, and that she can talk to us about anything. I think that is good enough.

Your grandmother features prominently in your children’s books. What teachings from her are you passing on?

Alyssa: My grandmother lived with us when I was growing up, and she would tell me that I needed to do three things every day: smile, learn something new, and do something kind for someone else without expecting anything in return. And I still do these things daily, whether that means calling a friend and checking up on them or gifting a tomato seeding to a neighbor. I’m showing my daughter that there are plenty of opportunities to learn and be kind. We started volunteering at the community garden at her school. And every night, before she goes to sleep, I ask her, “what did you learn today? And what did you do for someone else?”

How do you celebrate your culture at home?

Alyssa: I write books about our culture and heritage, and I also celebrate it through music and food. But my daughter isn’t growing up surrounded by cousins and extended family like I did. Of course, if you ask her where she’s from, she’ll bust out her list: Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Ireland, Jewish… So, she’s aware of her identity.

What’s the hardest part of this journey?

Alyssa: The hardest part is trying to be the best version of myself while I’m tired. They say you shouldn’t drive when you’re tired because it’s like being under the influence of alcohol. So, how the heck are you supposed to parent when you’re always freaking tired? I love my twins, and it’s fun watching them grow together. But it’s a lot. We don’t live near family so we don’t have that support.

Do you have mom friends where you live?

Alyssa: I have not been successful here in Philadelphia. Last week, I went to New York because one of my mom friends from Portland, Oregon was going to be there for a work event. We drove to Brooklyn to hang out at Prospect Park. It requires being a scheduling ninja to find time together, but it’s worth it.

Mom Thread

• Birth order: I’m a little sister who has always felt like the older sibling. Am I the anomaly? Does birth order indeed determine a person’s position in their family?

• The role of culture: What are the cultural nuances that shape the responsibilities assumed by the eldest daughter in Latine and Asian families?

• Single motherhood: Alyssa and I are both proud daughters of single moms, a path that more and more women are choosing.

Thanks for reading! Please tap the ❤️ button, restack, or share with a mom in your life.

My mother used to pray for me each morning. Ever since I was a kid—and later, after I had kids of my own—she would pour all her love into those whispered words meant to shield me from harm. She wasn’t a regular churchgoer, but she believed in the power of prayer. And I believed in the power of mothers (still do). So, I’d go into my day feeling protected. Like God or some other universal force was looking out for me simply because my mom had willed it.

And, boy, she was strong-willed, my mom. She needed to be. As an immigrant, she was often made to feel less than or invisible. As a Latina, she was told her opinions didn’t matter. And as a mother, a single one after my parents divorced, she was expected to carry it all, no complaints. But my mom never yielded, never bent.

On their own, each of her identities may have been seen as a weakness but together they provided the armor necessary to move through a world that can be harsh to anyone deemed different. Her petite frame carrying this heavy carapace wherever she went. Distracting the eye with her manicured fingernails, perfectly coordinated outfit, and dangly earrings.

Always her own independent woman. Even when she became a stay-at-home mom to care for my sister and I, she found a way to make her own cash. Money meant independence to her. And so, she turned our Queens living room into a daycare center and welcomed neighborhood children whose parents appreciated having somewhere safe and reliable to leave them. There wasn’t a diaper pail big enough for all those kids but that didn’t bother her. She was proud to serve her community and provide for her family all at once.

She never took money for granted. The bills in her wallet always right side up facing the same direction in order of denomination. She knew exactly how much was in there at all times. Down to the penny, back when those counted for something. None of it came easy. And all of it required resilience and perseverance.

That’s why I never doubted her prayers worked. No one was more determined than my mom.

When she died eight years ago and I had no choice but to go back out into the world, I wondered who would pray for me. Who would think of me first thing in the morning and last thing at night and send all that goodness my way? I like to think she’s still out there, somewhere, watching over me and my family. That’s how much I believe in the power of moms. They never stop loving, caring, no matter where life—or death—takes them.

Happy Mother’s Day to those who celebrate, and a big hug to those who find this day hard. I see you.

MOM: Sarah Jane Wroblewski
JOB: Yoga Therapist
LOCATION: Minneapolis, Minnesota

I still think about those moms in Minneapolis standing watch in their neighborhoods to warn of ICE sightings, loading minivans with groceries for families afraid to leave their homes, ferrying other people’s children to school, accompanying immigrants to doctors’ appointments, marching in solidarity in negative 30-degree weather. Sarah Jane Wroblewski is one of those moms. A regular person, just like you and me, but someone who couldn’t sit back and watch what was happening in her community. For her, motherhood is a call to action. “I feel a responsibility to protect all kids from racism, discrimination, and physical harm.”

That conviction took root long before she met her own kids. Always clear from a young age that she would someday become a mom. The same way she knew that her partner, Kim, was “the one” shortly after the pair began dating. It wasn’t long before they decided to adopt children from foster care, oblivious that the process would take five years and cost them a lot of heartache. “There were a few times we thought we were going to get these kids. They were already ours in our minds. And then, at the last minute, nope,” Sarah Jane says. “In most cases, the social workers felt that if a child could have a mom and a dad, why wouldn’t they choose that? Aren’t two moms kind of second choice?”

Turns out that having two moms is not unlike winning the jackpot. Ten years ago, when Sarah Jane and Kim were finally paired with siblings, ages 3 and 2, they were asked what it would take to give the kids back. “We were like, why would we traumatize them that way?” she says. But the social workers needed to ask because the kids had had failed placements due to behaviors other families couldn’t handle. “We told them that if we encounter something we don’t know how to deal with, we will find resources to help us. And that’s what we’ve done ever since.”

The Mommune Q&A:

Tell me about those early days with your kids.

Sarah Jane: We called it the “Toddler Olympics” because we went from having this very adult life with our flexible travel schedules and a house filled with precious, breakable things to baby-proofing everything and having no more free time. So, that was a huge change.

What has surprised you most about this journey?

Sarah Jane: I was worried that we wouldn’t bond; that they wouldn’t love me the way you love a parent. But I felt connected to them immediately. The social workers had the kids come over for an overnight before they moved in with us, and my daughter got a fever of 103. I held her in my arms and promised to always take care of her. That was a powerful moment.

How did the ICE shootings in Minneapolis change who you are as a parent?

Sarah Jane: My partner, Kim, has several restaurants, so it hit close to home. We needed to get involved right away to make sure our people—most of them are Ecuadorean—were safe. I coordinated rides so that they wouldn’t have to drive or take public transportation to get to work. It was a big undertaking: about 40 riders every day, volunteers from our community, and me still driving eight times a day. My kids felt my absence, but I couldn’t look away.

Did you bring them along for any of it?

Sarah Jane: We also organized groceries for families, and my kids came along for a lot of that. I would pick them up from school and we’d do our runs together. I wanted them to understand their privilege. Earlier in their lives, I wouldn’t have brought them into something like this because of their past. They’ve been through enough of their own hardships, but this felt like the right time. We are at a pivotal point in history, and I needed them to know that.

What effect did it have on them?

Sarah Jane: My son wanted to take matters into his own hands. He told me, “I think I’m going to put a sign on the corner that says ‘ICE can’t hurt kids, but kids can hurt ICE,’ and I’m going to throw snowballs at them whenever I see them drive by.”

What is your mom superpower, the one thing only you can provide?

Sarah Jane: When my kids get dysregulated, I am the one person who can bring them down. They can get pretty angry. They’ll say, “stay away from me,” “you don’t understand me,” and a lot of other words. But I know I can reach them.

How do you define self-care?

Sarah Jane: Spending time with my friends is the pinnacle of self-care. I would be nowhere without them. There’s never any shame. We all laugh at ourselves and each other. It’s a safe space where we can say anything. Most of them are moms and some live in my neighborhood. One of them was even in my pod during the pandemic. There was a summer our sons were babysitting the class turtle and they fed it a Lego. We ended up splitting a bill for $5,000 at the exotic pet vet to save the turtle’s life. After that, we can get through anything.

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Mom Thread

• IRL: Calling all Brooklyn moms! Join me for breakfast and conversation on May 7th to chat all things motherhood.

• Worth a listen: One of my fave NPR podcasts, Code Switch, re-ran an episode that feels especially topical: Tradwives and the Pressure of Modern Motherhood.

• Spice up your life: Melanie C (aka Sporty Spice) has a new album and advice for moms of teens: “The minute I…let go of expectations and listened to my instinct, the whole thing became more pleasurable.”

Thanks for being part of The Mommune. Say hi on Instagram, and let me know if there’s a mom you’d like to see in this newsletter. Take care!

MOM: Adrianne Wright
JOB: Founder and CEO, Activist
LOCATION: Brooklyn, New York

I know the feeling. Of wanting to safeguard, to shield. It’s an instinct that sets in the moment a mother holds their child for the first time—maybe sooner. The same message on repeat: I will never let anything bad happen to you. I will never let anything bad happen to you. But we eventually learn that we can’t control everything. That for our children to flourish we must loosen our grip. And let go. Little by little. Breathing deeply each time.

Not easy. Especially if you have reason to be wary. When the distrust you carry is actually a response to past trauma that still lives within you. Adrianne Wright, a mom of two, can attest to this. She has written openly about surviving sexual assault as a child, and how that experience shows up in her parenting today. “Wherever I am, I always keep an eye on the exit. If something were to happen, how would I protect my children?”

That question arrives with a pang for Adrianne, who shares custody of her daughters (ages 8 and 4) with her ex-husband. “I don’t know what they do when they’re not with me because their dad doesn’t really communicate,” she says. So, she pieces together fragments, doing what she can to keep them safe from afar. Like the time she saw a photo of her girls on a boat, no lifejackets in sight. “I immediately booked intensive swim classes,” she says.

“I’ve learned how to deal with uncertainty and move through it.” For Adrianne that means equipping her kids with the knowledge to look out for themselves, but also the skills to find steadiness in a world that overwhelms. It’s the biggest gift she can give them and herself as she navigates co-parenting in the dark. Always looking for the light.

The Mommune Q&A:

What is your mom superpower—the one thing only you can provide?

Adrianne: We have these beautiful conversations every night before they go to sleep. I lay with them, and we figure out what’s going on in that space between their hearts and minds. Helping them articulate what that is, and what it means is my superpower. We live in a world where they’re constantly exposed to all these things asking them for immediate reactions. But to be able to dig into those feelings and put them into words lets them know that it’s ok to explore.

What kind of mother did you think you were going to be?

Adrianne: When I was pregnant with my first, I didn’t know anything. At the time, there were a lot of influencers, mostly white women, on social media creating beautiful content about motherhood. They all used the same filters, and I translated motherhood through aesthetics: the decor in my daughter’s nursery, the clothes she would one day wear. Because my mother wasn’t around much when I was growing up, I didn’t have anything tangible to cling on to when I became a mom.

Tell me about your mom.

Adrianne: She was in medical school and worked a lot. And so my father was the primary caregiver in addition to his full-time job. I never saw my mom, except for those times when I woke up at 4am. I trained myself to get up while it was still dark out because I knew she was leaving to work at the hospital. I would go downstairs and peek at her. She was so beautiful. She had skin that glowed, and she would put on this bright red lipstick. I could smell her perfume. She was always surprised to see me but also delighted that I was there. It’s like a ghost memory. I didn’t experience caregiving with her but I knew that she loved me.

Did you talk to her about this later in life?

Adrianne: When I was a teenager, I didn’t feel close to her. Once I got older and had kids, I realized that it’s a lot more complicated. As the main bread winner of our family, she felt the responsibility to do these different things. And I know that she has regrets. She worked a lot but doesn’t have much wealth, and she’s not as healthy as she thought she’d be. But yet, she missed out on her children’s childhood. What was it all for? I feel for her.

Motherhood forces us to see our own moms differently, right?

Adrianne: You never know what someone is experiencing; the dynamic between her and my dad; what their life was like. All you can do is meet them where they are. It’s easy to say, “I wish you’d been this way or that way.” But everyone is doing the best they can.

How have you evolved as a mother since your divorce?

Adrianne: As humans we are meant to evolve. But mothers carry so much that It’s hard for us to shed that skin and reimagine ourselves. For me, it’s been about becoming more comfortable with myself and my own energy. The more I can focus on my internal grounding, the better I can handle everything happening around me. That comes with the understanding that we are meant to live different chapters.

How do your kids influence how you approach dating as a single mom?

Adrianne: I don’t want anyone for my children. Their father is their father. It would take someone incredibly special to break through our girl crew. Maybe that person will come along, but I only see my daughters half the time and I don’t want to share them with anybody. And their father’s male energy is like enough for me.

You do so much—you’re a mom, activist, a business owner—how do you carve out time for rest?

Adrianne: I’m tired. But I’ve gotten really good at learning how to completely stop what I’m doing and take a bath in the middle of the day or go for a walk or completely ignore everybody and read a book on my couch. I’ve been working with a rest coach since my divorce. She helps me figure out how to incorporate rest in my day. To me, self-care is about the way I want to live my life, not a temporary fix.

Mom Thread

Three new books about motherhood currently on my radar:

• Bury Me Already (It’s Nice Down Here): Comics On Pregnancy and Parenthood
  by Julia Wertz

  Comics, essays, and diary doodles capture the full chaos of pregnancy and early parenthood against the backdrop of local wildfires and a global pandemic.

• Through Mom’s Eyes: Simple Wisdom From Mothers Who Raised Extraordinary Humans by Sheinelle Jones

  The TODAY Show host draws on interviews with celebrity mothers and her own experience parenting three kids to explore how to make it through the hard parts of motherhood without losing sight of the joy.

• Mom, Unfiltered: Maternal Mental Health and Finding Freedom Through Motherhood by Leah Kim

  A deeply personal exploration of early motherhood that delves into the ways society fails new mothers, especially those with marginalized identities.

I was recently on my way out to meet friends for dinner when my 11-year-old stopped me at the door to ask for help with something that could clearly wait. I had told her several times that I was running late and yet, here she was trying to get my attention. “Do you really have to go?” she said, eyes starting to water. “I need you.” As soon as I heard those three words, I felt cornered. I could almost hear the clock ticking as I weighed my options: Cancel on my girlfriends—I was already 15 minutes behind—and prioritize my child or proceed as planned and worry about said child during the entire meal. It was a lose-lose proposition.

Then I remembered something this week’s interviewee, Kerry Docherty, said: “Being a selfish mom means putting myself first by leaning into the things that make me feel most alive. Not because I think I deserve it but because the more my well is filled, the more it overflows outwardly.” It was the reframe I didn’t know I needed. So, off I went to fill my well. Everyone else could wait. And guess what? I had a great night out and when I got home, I found a sweet note on my pillow from my daughter hoping I had fun. It was a reminder that it’s ok—and often necessary—to put yourself first.

That is the message of Kerry’s memoir, Selfish: Unlearning, Reclaiming, and Telling the Truth (out April 21, Harmony). As a mom of two (ages 10 and 8) and co-founder of the clothing brand Faherty, Kerry spent years prioritizing her family and business. Only to realize that in order to give the people closest to her the love, attention, and presence they deserve, she has to cultivate her own joy. And that means moving to the front of the queue when it comes to herself.

The Mommune Q&A:

What does being selfish mean to you as a mom?

Kerry: A mother is the central nervous system in the family. If a mother is calm, present, and fulfilled, it helps regulate the nervous system of the entire family. In my case, I need a lot of solitude. I love taking beach walks and journaling in the morning. I don’t always get that alone time but it’s how I pay attention to my mind so that I’m kinder to myself and my kids. Otherwise, the tape in my mind is so obligatory, so dutiful, so productive. And kids don’t care about productivity. They want to come home to a warm hug and someone that’s present.

How do you define good enough parenting?

Kerry: Good enough parenting is lazy parenting. And I say this as someone who was a high achiever with perfectionist tendencies. I used to think about mothering in terms of how everything looked, not how I was being. I would feel like a failure if I served my kids chicken tenders, sliced cucumbers, four grapes, and a half a carrot instead of a beautiful meal. But spending five minutes on dinner, so that I am in a better mood and can do Magna-Tiles later, that’s good enough parenting. It’s about focusing on what’s going to move the needle. And the needle is around emotional and spiritual caregiving.

What’s the one thing you must do for yourself every day?

Kerry: I am obsessed with baths. It calms my nervous system and washes out the day. So, our bath time is a long, intricate process. I fill the bathtub with bubbles and the kids get whatever toys they want. I’m in there for six minutes but at least I get my bath. As parents, we need to broaden our imagination for how we spend time together with our children. If you love watching a show at the end of the day, watch a show with your kids. If you love cooking, make dinner together. If you like doing a nighttime walk, do it as a family.

How do your kids react when you prioritize yourself?

Kerry: It’s a balance for me. If you ask me, “would you rather go to your kids’ basketball game or take a beach walk?” I will always choose a beach walk. It doesn’t feel good to me that my daughter will say, “please tell me that you’re coming to my game today.” She knows. I wish I could fake it and tell you I would rather see my 9-year-old play basketball at a gym 20 minutes away, where they only score six points. I don’t want to go. And I feel that tension every day. But I also know that it means a lot to her when I show up. I’m always doing this pro/con cost-benefit analysis.

Do your kids see you as a full human being, not just their mother?

Kerry: Part of being a selfish mom is letting your kids know that you have needs, too. They start to see you as an individual at a younger age. I did not see my mom as someone who had an identity outside of mothering until I was 17 years old. If I have a short fuse, I’ll say to my kids, “I am sorry I just barked at you. I’m feeling stressed and anxious today. I took it out on you, and I didn’t mean to.” When we use “I” statements as an adult, they realize their mom has emotions, too, and it helps them understand their own emotions.

Do they help you get through those feelings?

Kerry: I try to own my feelings as they’re unfolding. My kids see me cry sometimes. If they ask what’s wrong, I don’t say, “nothing, I’m fine.” I say I had a really hard day at work. But I never put it on them to try to help me problem-solve. I explain how I’m feeling in a way that doesn’t parentify them or make them feel like they have to say anything. My daughter will offer me a hug, which is great, but they don’t try to fix it.

Mom Thread

• Reading rec: An ode to fierce mothers everywhere, this picture book is inspired by the old “yo mama” jokes.

• IRL: Calling all Brooklyn moms! Join me for breakfast and conversation on May 7th to chat all things motherhood.

• Do less: A Life Kit episode on how to lower your standards as a working parent. Totally recommend bringing it down a few notches.

Thanks for reading! Please tap the ❤️ button, restack, or share with a mom in your life.

MOM: Sara McKeown
JOB: Healthcare compliance specialist
LOCATION: Monticello, Arkansas

When I chatted with Sara McKeown, I was reminded of my own single mother. Like Sara, she had different odd jobs to keep her family afloat. My mom ran a daycare from our apartment, giving neighbors a safe and reliable place to leave their children while they went to work. She also sold meals to recent immigrants who would sit at our dining room table to enjoy a taste of home. There was no 9 to 5 for her.

That constant hustle is something Sara knows well. During the day she works in healthcare as a compliance specialist and after hours she cleans three to four houses a week. She also pulls in extra cash cleaning a funeral home the nights her sister is able to stay with her two boys, ages 6 and 4. “The first time I saw a dead body, it spooked me but now I pray over them and for their families,” she says.

That she takes a moment to think about the deceased as well as those grieving says a lot about Sara. A generous caregiver, she is always ready to lend a helping hand even when she can use one herself. But she trusts that the love she pours into others will come back around. “I tell myself that it’s gonna get better one day,” Sara says. “My kids see how hard I work, and they’ll tell me that I’m the best mom in the world—that makes everything worth it.”

The Mommune Q&A:

Did you always know you wanted to be a mom?

Sara: I never thought I’d have children. All my friends had kids when they were about 17. I would stay with them and help take care of their kids. So, it was a big surprise when I got pregnant with my son, who is 4. Then four and a half years ago, his older brother came to live with us. His mother was on drugs and he ended up in foster care. She terminated all her rights and his dad, my partner at the time, left him with me when we broke up.

What’s your parenting superpower—the one thing only you can provide?

Sara: I am an advocate for my kids. Especially for my older one. He has a lot of issues. We’ve done every therapy, every test. We’re waiting to find out if we’re autistic or if we have fetal alcohol syndrome. I’ve done all the things to make sure that my kids are heard. They know they’re not going to be overlooked.

Who looks out for you?

Sara: My sister is really good about watching my kids even for a little bit so that I can just breathe, take a shower alone, and clean my own house. I also have a friend who has two children so I watch her kids all the time and she watches mine sometimes. My kids are a bit harder to watch. Some people think they’re a little wild.

What’s the hardest part about being a single mother?

Sara: Not having the support. I would like it if someone could help with school drop-off and pickup so that I could work longer and not stress if I’ll get my 40 hours this week. I have to take off for every little thing. I don’t mind working multiple jobs if that’s what I have to do to take care of my kids. But I wish I had more time with them. This weekend, I took off and we’re going to see the Harlem Globetrotters in Little Rock and hang by the pool. I had to work all spring break because my boss was on vacation. The boys are excited for our mini getaway.

Did you always want to work in healthcare?

Sara: My first real job in the field was as a certified nursing assistant in an Alzheimer’s unit, and I learned so much about being present when someone is alone and can’t remember anybody and is nearing the end of their days. It was a huge blessing.

Where do you get your work ethic from?

Sara: My parents. My mom still works at the same hospital she’s been at for 25 years. She drives 45 minutes each way to get there. And my dad has always had multiple jobs. I would love to go back to school and get a degree so that I can move up in my company and do better for me and my kids. But it’s just not possible.

You recently got a tattoo inspired by your sons. Tell me about it.

Sara: It’s a lioness and her cubs representing me and my two little boys, who are feisty and tough. They have been through so much and have seen me go through a lot. And they continue to stand by my side, defending me.

Mom Thread

• Surrogacy abroad: Many Latin American countries are trying to legislate surrogacy, which is more affordable in countries like Argentina, Colombia, and Mexico but often goes unregulated.

• Music mom: Remember Xtina? Christina Aguilera took on this alter ego in 1999(!) Here is the pop icon talking about motherhood and being a natural nurturer.

• For laughs: An 88-year-old grandmother dabbling in stand-up comedy.

Thanks for reading! Please tap the ❤️ button, restack, or share with a mom in your life.

MOM: Kayla Cole
JOB: Teacher, poet, and scholar
LOCATION: Silver Spring, Maryland

The first time I heard Kayla Cole speak, I was blown away. She was performing a poem written with such unvarnished honesty and raw emotion that everyone in the audience went still. The poem reflected the story of her life: watching her mom get beat up by an abusive partner, becoming pregnant at 16, neglecting herself as a mother, and trying to make her children proud. As Kayla knelt on the brightly lit stage, crying, her 9-year-old daughter stood nearby comforting her. And though that moment had been staged, the tears and the love between them were real.

When I chatted with Kayla later, I understood how being a teen mom had presented her a second chance. “My daughter saved my life when I didn’t want to live,” says Kayla, who gave birth days before graduating from high school. At the time, she was battling depression and having suicidal thoughts. But motherhood propelled her forward in ways she never imagined. It also silenced those people who assumed she wouldn’t amount to much.

“I got tired of the stigma around young mothers. That once we have children, our lives are over,” Kayla says. “I wanted to prove that my world doesn’t stop at mother.” Since receiving her associate’s degree in early education, Kayla has been pursuing her bachelor’s in the same field while holding down a full-time job as a teacher, writing poetry, raising two kids, and defying expectations.

Thanks to Kayla for sharing her poetry and showing us what bravery looks like.

Was college always in the cards?

College wasn’t an option at first. Once I became a mom, I felt like I needed to work. But going back to school was like a do-over. I didn’t go to prom. I didn’t walk across the stage to receive my high school diploma; it arrived in the mail. I wanted my children to see their mom walk across the stage. I wanted my mom to see that. And I wanted to see it for myself. A lot of people told me that I wouldn’t be able to do it.

How did you get into poetry?

Kayla: About three years ago I started going to open mics and sharing my journal entries. Now, I get booked for events. My poetry style is trauma-based; I need to find a better word to describe it. It’s about overcoming obstacles as a Black woman and mother.

Do you parent like a poet?

Kayla: I use my poetry in my parenting. My childhood was rough. I remember not having a voice or an opinion when I was growing up. So, I care about how my children feel and what they think. In my household, words are important because I didn’t always know how to express myself.

How are you breaking generational curses?

Kayla: I am creating a safer environment for my children than what I had. I watched my mother be abused. That is something I don’t tolerate in my life. I want my kids to see me being loved properly. Or, if I’m alone, I want them to see me loving myself properly. I didn’t break the cycle of keeping my home together, as far as having a two parent household, but I’ve given myself grace for that. Their father is actively involved in their lives. We’re not together, but we do co-parent, and I like to believe it’s healthy.

What is your relationship like with your mom?

Kayla: I owe that lady everything. I don’t know what I would do without her. I watched my mom fight the biggest giants and crawl through the darkest tunnels, and there was always light at the end. I commend her for raising three kids with resilience and a smile on her face. She shows me every day how much she loves me and my children.

You didn’t always get along with her. Tell me about that.

Kayla: When I was growing up, my mom was one of my first bullies because she wasn’t healed. I refuse to do that to my kids. I will not bring my childhood trauma onto them. I talked to my mom about this. It wasn’t an easy conversation because I didn’t want to hurt her, but it hurt more not to tell her. She took it better than I thought because I told her that I understood her now that I’m a mother. I can’t imagine all the things she had to deal with on her own. She didn’t have a village like mine. I forgave her for the things she might have unintentionally done.

How do you care for yourself?

Kayla: I’m a strong advocate for taking care of your mental health and that of your children’s. This past year I started therapy through Generation Hope, and it’s changed my life for the better. I’m learning to accept help and not push people away that are genuinely trying to be there for me. I went through a miscarriage a year ago, and my co-worker grabbed my kids for a day and took them out while I dealt with my emotions. I’m starting to trust people and allow them to get to know me.

Do you think little Kayla has healed?

Kayla: I don’t think she’s 100 percent healed. I think that she’s getting there. I’m getting emotional but I think she would be very proud of where Kayla is today.

Mom Thread

• Pop mom: Swedish pop star Robyn’s ninth album, Sexistential, is a “manifesto for contemporary mothers.” Here she talks about I.V.F., dating while pregnant, and being a single parent.

• Opera mom: A Met Opera star on her return to work after the birth of her twins: “Singing felt like such a silly thing to do.”

• Touring and motherhood: The struggles of musician moms caught between taking their babies on the road and doing what they love. This quote paints a vivid picture: “On some occasions, she’d go to breastfeed her daughter in the morning only to find the baby dusted with glitter and makeup that had rubbed off during a post-show feeding.”

Thanks for being part of The Mommune. Say hi on Instagram, and let me know if there’s a mom you’d like to see in this newsletter. Take care!

MOM: Anna Malaika Tubbs
JOB: Author and scholar
LOCATION: Los Angeles, California

Nurturing, supportive, protective—all words associated with mothers. But what about resistance, fighting, justice? How do those terms fit into the experience of motherhood in the United States, especially as they relate to Black moms operating within a system that wasn’t made for them?

For Anna Malaika Tubbs those concepts aren’t abstractions. They’re part of the job description for Black mothers. As an author and scholar, she’s done the research and documented the attacks and erasure of Black mothers throughout history. And as a mom raising three kids (ages 6, 4, and 2) alongside her husband, politician Michael Tubbs, she sees it as her responsibility to reclaim the narrative around Black motherhood.

For inspiration, she only needs to look at the stories of Alberta King, Louise Little, and Berdis Baldwin, the subjects of her first book, The Three Mothers: How the Mothers of Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and James Baldwin Shaped a Nation. And it comes down to this: “Black mothering is revolutionary,” she says. “It’s a way of thinking about how everything can be done differently: how we can build more freedom and make the world worthy of our children, so that they are treated with the dignity and respect they deserve.”

Thanks to Anna for showing us how the past can inform the present and propel us to action as we reimagine a better future.

What did you learn from Alberta King, Louise Little and Berdis Baldwin?

Anna: They helped me understand the ugliness that we’re up against and how to make sure the joy, love, and magic of it all is not stolen from us so that our children know that they can love, live, and dream. That, in and of itself, is the revolutionary thing.

Tell me about the four tenets of Black mothering you’ve identified.

Anna: First, we don’t have a choice as to whether or not we’re going to prepare our children for how ugly the world can be. Second is making sure our children understand that they’re not defined by this ugliness, but they do have a role to play in moving beyond these systems. Third is letting our children know that they’re not alone in this work. It is our responsibility to pass down the lessons from generations past and tell them how we’ve done it in our lives. And fourth is constantly reminding them how important their joy is by allowing them to just be children.

What does this look like in your house?

Anna: Greeting our kids every single day with love. Letting them know that they are everything, they are the best, they are wonderful. That we love the way their minds work. And protecting their ability to be whoever they are meant to be. It also means going into their school during Black History Month and teaching all the kids about our history, and who the fighters have been. Harriet Tubman. Sojourner Truth. So that when they’re confronted with some of that ugliness, instead of feeling defined by it, they’ll recognize that something is wrong with the person confronting them. Because they have been infused with confidence, love, a sense of self-worth, and the knowledge that others had to do this before them. Then they’ll understand why these fighters have had to fight and what they’ve been fighting against.

How do conversations about justice play into this?

Anna: They need to respond when they experience any sense of unfairness or injustice and not be silenced. If there is a feeling in their hearts that somebody is making them uncomfortable or treating them differently, they need to speak up against that or find us, their advocates. Mothers of color, especially black moms, are aware and intentional about these conversations and how necessary they are for our kids to thrive.

What kind of mother did you have?

Anna: My mom was a lawyer advocating for women and children around the world. And she was big on gratitude. One time she took me to ballet and I just got out of the car without saying thank you and she was like, “excuse me.” It was her way of saying that she wasn’t required to do this. Not like I was in debt to her, but as an acknowledgement that she was making the choice to show up for me. I knew that she loved me and my siblings above all else. But from a young age, I also understood that my mom had her own identity and things she cared about deeply.

How do you counteract the myth of the selfless mother?

Anna: My mothering journey is so intertwined with my research that I was aware of the con of it all. There is a whole system designed to rob mothers of their power, make mothers feel like they can’t win no matter what we do, that if anything goes wrong, we are to blame. And that same system distracts us by pitting us against each other. I am so aware of this, especially the attacks on black mothers, that I will not allow anyone to rob my power.

Does guilt ever seep in?

Anna: I refuse to abide by the notion that I have to put myself behind everybody else in order to be a good mother. Not when I know that it’s in service of me being exhausted, of me not being able to go after my passions. If I start to go down that path, the voice in my head says, “nope, I’m coming up against a system that is centuries old and has nothing to do with me.”

What gives you hope?

Anna: I have a lot of hope. I’m excited to be mothering at this moment in American history. We have a long way to go, but mothers are finally waking up to the con. Like, wait a second, I’m so tired from mothering but it’s not my child’s fault. It’s not mine either. We just don’t have policies that support mothers. And so I think mothers have the power to transform everything, as long as we realize it.

Mom Thread

• Animal kingdom: A video of a whale mom receiving assistance and support during and after birth in a show of social reciprocity.

• Say cheese: It took a survey to discover that moms are often absent from their own family photos. Let’s agree to let someone else take the picture!

• Moms to know: Billie Elish’s mom has her own cooking show! I mention this because she’s said to be even cooler than her kids, if that’s possible. The program focuses on plant-based meals and sustainable living.

Thanks for being part of The Mommune. Say hi on Instagram, and let me know if there’s a mom you’d like to see in this newsletter. Take care!

MOM: Liza Wyles
JOB: Intimacy Coordinator
LOCATION: Queens, New York

Motherhood requires making hundreds of micro-decisions each day: What’s for breakfast? Is that outfit weather-appropriate? Does that cough need a pediatrician? Ack! These tiny choices loom larger than they should and wear us down. But what happens when the person who used to share in that mental load is no longer available in the same way? They’re still present, still loving but the part of them that would dive deep into the minutiae of everyday life with you and weigh all the options is gone.

That’s where Liza Wyles, a mom of two teens, found herself in 2024 when her husband of 20 years was diagnosed with brain cancer. Not only did she become his caregiver—managing his appointments, medications, and procedures—but it forced her to take full ownership of the emotional labor required to run a family. “He’s still very involved,” she says. “We share domestic tasks, like laundry, making dinner, and grocery shopping, but he’s lost his executive function. So, the planning, deciding, and timing of things is all me,” she adds, not with a tone of resignation but with the matter-of-fact resolve of someone who knows that opting out isn’t a choice.

Her only alternative? Pushing forward. Turns out, she’s better equipped than she knew: “I’m good at staying calm. I always come back to that. It’s how I preserve my energy so I actually have some left when I need it,” Liza says. “I can count on myself that way.”

Thank you to Liza for showing us the connection between self-preservation and inner strength.

How do you handle decision fatigue as a caregiver?

Liza: Before all this, I was someone who liked to linger. Let me sleep on it. Do I really need to decide right now? But now I try to get to a decision faster, and I’ve also gotten better at eliminating the things that genuinely don’t need mental space.

What kind of support would help you as a caregiver?

Liza: Medical facilities should be true resource hubs. For the patient and the caregiver. I don’t want another referral or pamphlet but actual holistic support. Our healthcare system silos everything: Your body is over here, your mind is someone else’s department. Nobody taught me how to talk to someone who’s had a traumatic brain injury. I had to figure that out myself. I have the time and resources to do the research, but what about the people who can’t? Who figures it out for them?

What does “good enough” mean to you?

Liza: I’m definitely operating more in the B minus zone now. I recently looked around the house and knew I should clean the whole bathroom. But what did I do? I saw the dirty mirror, wiped it, and moved on. Good enough.

Do your kids rely on you more after your husband’s diagnosis?

Liza: Mothers are already the default parent. That’s always been true. But now even more so. My son is 15 and my daughter is 18, and I find myself constantly reminding them that, “Hey, your dad is here, too.” My daughter will speak to him for hours about movies, fun stuff, but she doesn’t want to burden him with anything that feels like work. My son is at a different maturity stage, and he wears his feelings on the outside. When he’s not getting the attention he needs, you know about it.

How do you manage their expectations?

Liza: Setting boundaries with my kids has been its own learning curve. Just because I’m home doesn’t mean I’m available at all times. This is something I’ve had to say outloud. It’s never about saying “no.” It’s about being clear before I get resentful. And I think there’s something in it for them, too. I’m teaching them how to plan ahead and respect someone else’s time.

How do you define yourself outside of being a caregiver?

Liza: I’ve always defined myself through work: I’m a writer, producer, volunteer, mentor, guest speaker. But I’ve realized how narrow that is. How limited. I never think to define myself as a great friend. Why isn’t that a title we wear proudly?

Are you a great friend?

Liza: I’m vulnerable with a small handful of people who I trust completely, and who feel comfortable being vulnerable with me. That’s what real friendship looks like to me. Not someone who’s always in crisis because they need attention. I’m not here for the drama. But someone who genuinely needs support, validation, and comfort in a moment? I can show up for that. And I know they’ll show up for me.

What do you do for yourself, beyond family and work?

Liza: I go to tap class once a week. I studied dance for 12 years as a kid, and a few years ago I found my way back to it. My daughter had outgrown her tap shoes and they fit me perfectly. So, I went. It’s the same studio where I grew up dancing and where my daughter started going when she was 4. I haven’t looked back. It’s mostly middle-aged moms. And I want to be clear, this is an advanced class. We know what we’re doing. It’s the best outlet I have.

Mom Thread

• Parenting Rewind: I found this 1973 video of a college professor discussing the pressures working mothers face to solve childcare issues on their own: “The problem is that the working mother doesn’t have time, energy, or political influence…,” she says. It’s been over 50 years and we’re still left to figure it out.

• Famous Moms: Jamie Lee Curtis was a Hollywood sex symbol when she became a mom at 28. In this interview, she talks about the push-pull she felt between her baby and career.

• Reading List: I’m fascinated by the traits and behaviors we inherit from our parents, specifically our mothers. And this new book by Tracy Clark-Flory, about intergenerational healing, is right up my alley. Can’t wait to read it!

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