Before I get into the meat of why I am restarting this blog, let me just explain that as I was getting ready to sit down and write, I almost put chicken broth in my coffee instead of creamer. So, yeah, that’s how things are going around here!

I have been contemplating relaunching this blog for a few months now and after the past few weeks, I am more convinced than ever, that this is the right thing to do. I have realized how much I miss connecting with other moms. I need you all. I need to laugh with you all over how much of a crap show this motherhood gig can be. I need to be real with you all about the ups and the downs so we can all remind each other, we are not the only ones holding life together with duct tape.

While in the past, this blog was more aimed toward adoption and infertility, our lives have moved past those being such a central issue for me. Our adoption world has transitioned from me wanting to talk about the beauty and heartache adoption has been for me as a mom who had struggled with infertility to a world of helping my children navigate what adoption means to them. They are old enough to be processing this for themselves, and that is a private world, not for me to share. So, while I will occasionally talk about adoption and infertility, this is going to be much more just about motherhood. So, if you have mom friends that don’t follow along, invite them into our conversations about the craziness of it all!

Let me give you a quick review of the last couple of weeks leading up to this post and catch you up as to why I am reaching out. Thankfully, my children are back to school, but in the two previous weeks, they went to school for two days, one of which they were on a delay. We had snow. Little-Flower was scary sick. And, because winter in northwest Ohio is not fun enough, God shifted a polar vortex our way. Oh yeah, and then we had more snow. One would think that as a native to the area, I would remember that every January we just don’t leave the house, but each year, by the end of the month I am hanging on by a thread. Even introverts need to get out of the house every now and then!!

On day six of not leaving the house, knowing the next school day was already canceled and they probably would not be going on Friday either, my two sisters-in-law, my sister and my mother started a text string pretty much entirely about motherhood in January. After a few good laughs, I was reminded how much we were not meant to mother in isolation.

We wonder so much about why everyone is losing it, but we are all posting Facebook friendly pictures, while indicating we are interested in taking our perfect family every perfect event known to man, making those at home who can barely get dressed for the day or out of the house feel like we are utterly failing as moms.

Which leads me to the title of the post. In addition to a ridiculous amount of family togetherness and me at my breaking point, my husband and I had a lengthy conversation the other night. He gets frustrated when I say that he does not understand what it is like. What he was hearing is that I was saying he wasn’t wanting to understand. In reality, it’s that he CANNOT understand what motherhood is like because he does not live it. I cannot tell him about my day and have him “get it” like I can tell another mom about my day.

I know at first glance, it may seem confusing when I say I have four kids. There are only two small bodies that live here. But the two children that are here when daddy is home are vastly different than the ones that are here when it is only mommy.

Last night, I was utterly done and hanging on by a thread when my children rolled through the door already in a fight. The bus stop is at our next door neighbor’s house. In the 50 foot walk, they had already started fighting. This pretty much continued for the next 45 minutes with me too tired to intervene.

Then, daddy walked in the door.

Little-Flower jumps off the couch and runs to the door to greet him. Turkey-Man grabs a pencil, declaring, “I have to get my homework done.”

Daddy walked in the door.

That is all that happened to make my children go from savage to human. No words. Just presence.

Hubby does not understand this phenomenon, nor does he get that this is not unique to my relationship with my children, but that this sums up a vast number of households.

Which leads me to the second half of restarting this blog. (I know that 98% of the time, I am sarcastic, so let me just say this is a genuine interest.) I want to start a campaign with the hashtag #MomentsDaddyNeverSees. I want to start something that we can click on to remember that we moms are not alone and even maybe a hashtag that we could direct our husbands to so they see we are not crazy when he walks in the door and the children are being angels, while we are losing our crap.

Comment here on this post. Put it on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Write your own post about the difference in behavior in your children between when daddy is and is not around.

(Sorry for the duplicate story, my Facebook friends!)

This morning Little-Flower refused to go to the bus stop because she could not open the door to leave the house…

… with her hands in her pockets.

I talked last week in a Facebook post about ventriloquism parenting -that moment where your jaw is clenched so tight that your mouth is no longer moving and you are just spitting orders at your children through your teeth. So, after a few words in that style, she managed to figure out how to get her hands out of her pockets and open the door.

Magic.

#MomentsDaddyNeverSees

I hope you will follow along as I restart blogging about motherhood. Share it with your friends. Let’s all have a good laugh at this gig we are trying to hold together and remember that we are all hanging by a thread from time to time!

Enjoy!