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!

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: Victoria de la Fuente Ayers
JOB: Fashion Consultant/Start-Up Founder
LOCATION: Los Angeles, California

I often think about the role our mothers and grandmothers played in shaping the mothers we become. The things we unknowingly absorbed from them; the things we keep trying to undo. There’s no escaping it. When we have kids, our own upbringing becomes a reference point that is impossible to ignore. I had a mother who loved fiercely and selflessly, sometimes to a fault. The kind of woman who put herself last without a second thought, dutifully abiding by the constraints of her time and culture. Sound familiar?

Victoria de la Fuente Ayers, of the Zillion Trillion Substack, grew up in a matriarchy much like myself. The third Victoria in her family line, she was named after her maternal grandmother who, as a young woman, rode a motorcycle, went to college, ran the finances in her house, and raised five kids. In Peru, no less, where gender roles are influenced by a traditional, patriarchal culture. “She was the love of my life,” says Victoria, “an amazing grandmother, but not the best mom to her children.” It’s a contradiction Victoria thinks about often: “She probably wanted a different life and didn’t have a choice,” she says. “But people change across decades and stages.”

For Victoria, knowing that we can evolve and do better is at the heart of everything she does. “I’m going to make mistakes, and I’m going to own them.” With two boys, ages 2 and 4, at home, she has no interest in being placed on a pedestal. “I don’t want to be this heroic version of myself. For what? When they’re old enough, they’re going to understand that it was all a scam and feel cheated,” she says. She would rather they know the truth from the start: that she’s figuring it out, much like the rest of us.

Thanks to Victoria for her honesty and sense of humor, both indispensable qualities in motherhood.

Your mom, Laura Bozzo, became famous as a talk show host on Spanish-language television. How was that experience for you as her daughter?

Victoria: I had two mothers. That’s the best way to put it. She became famous when I was 13 and had been completely present until then. I went with her everywhere. Even when she was a teacher, I’d sit underneath her desk while she lectured. But when she became a public figure, something shifted. She didn’t belong to me anymore, she belonged to everyone else, and they had expectations. When you have to answer to lots of people, it doesn’t leave you much time to answer to your kids.

How did that affect you?

Victoria: People project whatever interpretation they have of your famous parent onto you, and it’s not fair. You never get the chance to become who you actually are. That’s one of the reasons I left Peru at age 18. My parents had a very public divorce and my mom started dating again, and suddenly her mistakes played out in front of the whole country.

What have you learned from your mom?

Victoria: I had my kids later in life, and being present is everything to me. I got that from her, the early version of her. I truly don’t think I’d be the mother I am without those years when she was right there with me at all times.

Why do you think motherhood is in need of a rebrand?

Victoria: When I became a mom four years ago, the conversation around motherhood was all or nothing. Either everything was Pinterest perfect or you’re crying on camera, bleeding, and suffering because that’s what makes you a good mom. There was nothing in the middle. As a Latina, everything is about perception. How your family looks; how you’re seen as a mother. And if you’re not doing well, it’s your fault.

Is that why you’ve been public about your struggles with IVF?

Victoria: I feel it in my bones that I’m meant to have a girl but I did a round of IVF and it didn’t go well. I’m talking about it now, while I’m in it, because I’m sick and tired of only hearing these stories from the other side, when everything works out and everyone is happy. But sometimes it doesn’t work out. I don’t want people to think that it’s because of something they did.

Do you have mom friends?

Victoria: When I see a big group of mom friends, there’s competition and drama. I don’t have the time for that. My closest friends aren’t even in the same life stage as me. My two best friends don’t have kids, but they show up for mine. They play with them; they stay with them when I travel for work. One of them was here when I gave birth to my second son. We don’t have family nearby, so they are our family.

Mom Thread

• Art moms: Five paintings that capture the complexity of motherhood, including one from 1652 depicting my own personal nightmare. It’s titled “Hunting for Lice.”

• Literary moms: Booker-nominated books with mom protagonists. “Not all of the women in these books are likely to win a Mother of the Year prize any time soon, but all are hugely memorable literary creations,” says the article writer.

• Movie mom: Reminders of Him follows a mom released from prison after serving five years for manslaughter desperate to reclaim the daughter she lost the right to call her own. A total “weeper” according to Variety.

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: Jovanna Archuleta
JOB: Early Childhood Community Outreach Director
LOCATION: Santa Fe County, New Mexico

Becoming a mother forces us to examine our own childhoods as we gauge how much or how little to pass down to our kids. But the patterns we’re born into run deep, and don’t simply disappear because we’re aware of them. They live in the body and show up when we least expect them. For Jovanna Archuleta, a tribal member of the Pueblo of Nambé in New Mexico, that realization came after she gave birth to her 7-year-old daughter. “I experienced severe postpartum depression and knew something was wrong,” she says. Not only with how she was feeling but how she had been made to feel her whole life by a parent who didn’t know how to show love.

She traces the pattern back to her great-great-grandfather, who was a boy when he was forced to attend a boarding school across the country as part of a government effort to assimilate indigenous youth. “He was taken from his family, stripped of everything familiar, and forbidden to speak his language. There was no love. There was nothing,” she says. “That wound doesn’t heal. It gets passed down. He raised his children the way he was taught, and it carried through to my grandfather and my father, who struggles with alcoholism to this day.”

Jovanna, who also has a 21-year-old son, understands this as part of her story and is determined to break the cycle. “The only way to heal is by forgiving,” she says, admitting it’s taken her a long time to get to this place. But she draws strength from a quote she once heard: “Healing is your responsibility as a parent, because unprocessed pain doesn’t magically dissolve. It finds new bodies to live in—your children.” And like any mother, she will do anything to protect her family.

Thank you to Jovanna for showing us that the past doesn’t have to determine our destiny.

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Tell me about your childhood growing up on a reservation.

Jovanna: I grew up surrounded by family: aunts, uncles, cousins. We all lived together in what is called the upper village, and would walk to each other’s houses barefoot. Our days were spent exploring the hills and rivers, climbing trees, fishing, learning to maneuver barbed-wire fences, and balancing across cattle guards. We played and slept outside. It was a childhood rooted in land, freedom, and community. I live here with my family so that my kids can experience the same kind of upbringing.

Generational trauma has a ripple effect. What’s helped you?

Jovanna: When you grow up with a parent who doesn’t know how to love—I believe he loved us, he just didn’t know how to show it—you move through life feeling as though a piece of your heart is missing and can spend years trying to fill that space. My sister and I could’ve followed a path shaped by generations of coping and numbing, but we didn’t. We had grandmothers and a mother who showed us love, faith, and what it means to work incredibly hard. They modeled resilience.

Is there anything you’re trying to unlearn from your mother?

Jovanna: My mom is a saint. She’s not named Teresa for nothing. She’s always cared for everybody and everything. I feel bad that she’s never gotten to live life on her own terms. And that’s something I’m trying to unlearn. It’s a constant battle in my head, thinking I should be volunteering or doing more. When I finally get the courage to say “no” to something or someone, it doesn’t go down without guilt.

Your son is 21. What was motherhood like when he came along?

Jovanna: I became pregnant at 19. I had no plan for college, no career mapped out. I had a cool convertible that was not safe or practical for a baby. What does a teenager know about life, parenting, or herself? But I knew I needed an education. So, I moved off the reservation temporarily and worked odd jobs while attending a tribal college. We got by on SNAP benefits, childcare assistance, TANF [Temporary Assistance for Needy Families], and Medicaid. We didn’t have much, so we attended every free event and spent hours at the park. Life was simple in some ways.

What kind of mother were you when you had your daughter?

Jovanna: I was a different woman. I had a master’s degree, a career, a partner, a mom who was able to help. My daughter has grown up in our forever home, with stability her brother didn’t have. What I didn’t expect was the postpartum depression. Or the complicated joy—and quiet sadness—of watching her grow up with the kind of father I once longed for. Or how hard it would be not to slip into survival mode. I had spent so many years functioning as a single mother that I almost forgot I had a partner.

What is your definition of good enough parenting?

Jovanna: My grandmothers and mom showed me love through cooking. They always had something on the stove. And I’ve found that cooking is when I feel most like myself as a mother, most present for my kids. My version of good enough parenting is making sure they’re always fed. No matter what I’m doing, I will always be home for dinner. And despite everything I went through with my father, we always had dinner together. That tradition continues with me.

Your work, building systems of support for mothers, is personal to you.

Jovanna: I was called to this work. I want the next generation to grow up whole. It starts with making sure mothers know that they have choices in how they plan their birth, in whether they breastfeed or not, in how they approach parenthood at every stage. We’re trying to bring that awareness and those resources directly into our communities, so that mothers, especially young mothers, know that support is available.

This interview has been lightly edited for publication.

Mom Thread

• Around the world: Mothers in the Middle East share how they find strength during turbulent times. “I often think about those stories of mothers somehow lifting car wreckage off their baby. That kind of superhuman instinct doesn’t appear from nowhere. It comes from the way motherhood expands you,” says Olivia Phillips, Bazaar Arabia Editor at Large.

• Animal kingdom: We’ve all followed the plight of Punch, the 7-month-old monkey rejected by his mother. 🥹 But what actually happened to her? This article takes a closer look at the story behind the story.

• Motherhood as inspiration: The play Meat Suit, or the shitshow of motherhood, is really selling it: “Come laugh, cringe, and cry through the unfiltered mess no one warned you about.” And while The New York Times advises against sitting in the front where you may get hit by exploding breastmilk, the reviews are good!

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: Morgan Radford
JOB: NBC News Anchor
LOCATION: Brooklyn, New York

At some point in your child’s schooling, they will work on a family tree. Maybe they’ll trace their little hand on a piece of paper and turn each finger into a distinct branch. Whatever shape their tree takes, they’ll surely have questions about their grandparents, great grandparents, and previous generations. The stories we tell our children about the people who came before them can help shape who they become. Instilling in them resilience, purpose, and a sense of belonging.

Morgan Radford, a news anchor, author, and soon-to-be mom of two knows this too well having learned about her family’s history of slavery from an early age. So, when I ask her if she feels a certain responsibility to her ancestors, she is quick to answer: “My responsibility is to take all the incredible resources I have been given by the people who sacrificed so much for me and live freely. And to create the circumstances of freedom for my 3-year-old daughter.”

Morgan, who identifies as Black with Cuban roots, is certainly leading the way. “I’m very comfortable standing proudly in who I am and where I come from,” she says. “The people who created me not only survived but thrived, filling the soil I stand on with their tears and their belief that a better day would come. That is what grounds me.”

Thank you to Morgan for reminding us to look out for a better day. It will come. It has to come.

Tell me about your family tree.

Morgan: I’ve always known that my dad’s grandfather, my great-great-grandfather, was a slave until he was three. That is an unusually recent thing to reckon with. A man in my own family was literally enslaved in America, and now I deliver the news to millions of people after attending the best universities in the world. That is the beauty of the American dream when it’s fulfilled.

How does your identity show up in how you parent?

Morgan: My pride in myself, my culture, and how I was raised doesn’t depend on whether it’s recognized or valued by anyone else. And I see that in my kid. The other day she was getting ready for a bath and she said, “I’m brown and I have an afro and you’re brown, too.” I love hearing her speak with excitement about her body and curls.

It’s your job to report the news, but so much of it is bad. How do you harness joy in your daily life?

Morgan: We are living in unprecedented times. People are scared. And when people are scared, they do really dark things. Witnessing that every day takes its toll. It makes you question your sanity. It makes you question the intentions of your neighbors? Would you do this to me? If you’re taking away this woman’s 2-year-old, would you do this to me? Would you put me in handcuffs because of my accent? That’s a disorienting feeling. But no matter what happens during the course of my day, when I go home and I hear my little girl’s laughter and see that mischievous twinkle in her eye, my world is set right on its axis.

You’re raising your daughter bilingual. Have you ever hesitated to speak to her in Spanish? I ask this as someone also raising bilingual children.

Morgan: A lot of communities are feeling the panic of proximity, realizing this isn’t just about them. This is about us. I have never once hesitated to speak Spanish anywhere. That comes from my Blackness. I come from a long line of people who either had no choice in how they moved through the world or, when given the choice, chose Blackness. When I’m out with my daughter, she’ll speak to me in Spanish. She can tell if someone doesn’t understand and she’ll switch to English, but Spanish is her language.

Your debut novel Now Then (HarperCollins, out May 5), follows a Harvard student forging her own identity when she discovers her mother’s past fleeing the Cuban Revolution.

Morgan: The book explores a lot of what we’re talking about—mother-daughter relationships, the legacy of how we’re raised, how we hope to parent, and the sacrifices made by those who came before us. Culture, identity, and belonging are all themes of the book.

Do you have a close network of mom friends?

Morgan: I have a robust family life and close friends, but I crave being in community with other parents and learning from them. I just haven’t made those connections.

Lastly, congratulations on your pregnancy! What has been your biggest lesson in motherhood so far?

Morgan: When I was pregnant the first time, I remember worrying about all the ways I could get this wrong. And I feel like I’ve gotten it right. I don’t mean in a good or bad way. I mean in a way that is perfectly messy, beautiful, and chaotic. In a way that fits my family. I see this little girl who expects only good things, who expects to be treated well, who expects to be spoken to softly and kindly. What a sense of accomplishment for creating a world where she gets to feel all that goodness.

Mom Thread

• Movie moms: The original Scream came out 20 years ago! The seventh film in the franchise finds Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) protecting her daughter from a new masked killer while dealing with trauma around her own mother. Here’s the trailer.

• New study: File this under exhausting! According to new research, a second pregnancy rewires brain networks related to attention and sensory response allowing moms to multitask more efficiently.

• Motherhood as inspiration: I hadn’t heard of artist Loie Hallowell, who is showing at Pace Gallery in London next month, and now I’m going deep into the archives after reading this quote: “My dream is to create an exhibition of visceral birth images, blood everywhere.”

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: Noelle Trueheart
JOB: Organic Farmer
LOCATION: Lafayette, Colorado

“It takes 110 days for a watermelon to ripen from the time you sow it,” says Noelle Trueheart, an organic farmer and single mom to a second grader. “That’s relatively short compared to the 18 years it takes to raise a child.” Yet farming and motherhood have a lot in common: “Both require unlimited patience, tenderness, and attention to detail.” These are all traits Noelle is continuously cultivating by paying close attention to the needs of her crops and kid alike. Sometimes at the same time.

“I’m always trying to balance work and parenting,” says Noelle, who brings her daughter to the farm during the summer months and in the evenings. “While I’m offering her a valuable perspective on work ethic and food systems, I joke that someday she’ll tell her therapist that my plants were more important to me than she was.” But owning and operating a business can feel relentless when you’re a solo parent. Thankfully, the community Noelle nourishes with fresh produce shows up for her and her daughter when it matters most.

Why is feeding people so personal to you as a mom?

Noelle: There have been times as a single parent when I couldn’t afford fresh food. It’s a terrible feeling. Like you’re not good or worthy enough to eat well. So, I make sure the food I grow is accessible to all. I don’t turn anyone away. When people are joyfully fed it makes for a stronger, happier, healthier community. In the last five years of Common Name Farm, we’ve built a village in which individuals look out for one another. It’s a delightful anti-capitalist scenario. We offer our CSA shares on a sliding scale. Some people slide down and others slide up to help those who need it. That way, everyone gets to eat.

Your surname, Trueheart, suits you well. Is it a chosen name?

Noelle: When I was pregnant, I knew that it would just be my daughter and me together in this life. I wanted to choose a special name that only the two of us would share. I borrowed my mother’s maiden name, Francocoeur, and translated it to English: Trueheart. The ancestors who carried that name loved intensely and loyally. They always looked out for their neighbors.

What’s the best part about bringing your daughter to work on a regular basis?

Noelle: When you work on a farm, any number of things can go wrong at any time. You can get devastated by hail, for example. A child brings a lot of levity to this environment. She’s formed special bonds with folks who work at the farm. She has a whole community of aunties and important adult role models. It’s healthy for her to know people with different life experiences.

How does it feel to be part of a caring community?

Noelle: I was recently ill for a couple of weeks and had a steady stream of neighbors and friends show up at the door with food. They would take my daughter to play outside because I couldn’t. People are aware that I’m a single mother, doing this hard thing on my own.

What do you look for in a friend?

Noelle: One of the things I value most in a friend is when they make the extra effort to connect with my daughter. It’s not just about me with her in the background. But they talk to her about kid stuff and play games with her. They don’t just love me; they love her, too.

Tell me about your daughter.

Noelle: She’s on the autism spectrum and has high anxiety. Transitions are hard for her. She burns out quickly. So, I’m constantly watching out for her needs. Motherhood is incredibly humbling. I put myself in the position of the learner with my daughter as the teacher. And she’s taught me more than I could have ever imagined. Especially about limits and boundaries.

What has been the biggest lesson?

Noelle: I’m a shameless extrovert. She’s a rabid introvert. I would be the last one at every social gathering, but I have to read her signs and listen to her. When she’s done, she’s done. I have to use my time wisely in social settings and be at peace when it’s time to go.

Mom Thread

• Pop culture: Moms sing about their sons becoming men in a new campaign from grooming brand Old Spice. Filmed in the style of a ‘90s R&B music video, the nostalgic ad will have you humming along.

• Mother knows best: You’re never too old to ask for your mom’s advice. A Georgetown University student went viral on TikTok for sending his mother daily outfit videos.

• Family dynamics: More women in their 40’s are choosing single motherhood, according to CDC data.

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: Patrece Lucas
JOB: Death and grief doula
LOCATION: Detroit, Michigan

Patrece Lucas raised her kids not to be afraid of death. As an end-of-life doula, whose job it is to “sit with the dead, dying, and grieving,” she believes that this transition should be celebrated. “In my culture, death is treated as a taboo subject. People think that talking about it will make it happen sooner,” Patrece says. “But death will not be an afterthought in our family.”

So you better believe that her children, ages 20 and 22, know their mother’s end of life wishes. And guess what? She knows theirs. When her daughter studied abroad in Southern Africa as a teenager, Patrece asked her what should be done with her body if she died there. Not because the girl was in danger; this is just a conversation they often have. “My daughter said she would welcome death if it meant dying while living fully and freely without fear,” remembers Patrece. “A beautiful answer.”

Has death always been a part of your life?

Patrece: I’ve lost a lot of people in my family. My mother is one of 10 siblings and my father is one of five so I’ve lost aunts, uncles, and cousins. I used to work at a big company, and I was once called into the HR office because I had taken too many bereavement days. They thought I was faking it. But in the African American community, cousins are like brothers and sisters.

You care for your mother, who is getting on in years. Tell me about that experience.

Patrece: I’ve been caring for her since I was a child. She’s always had health issues. But when I was 11, I remember her being sick and ending up in the emergency room. She couldn’t communicate with doctors, and I could see them dismissing her. It was overwhelming to watch her hyperventilate and unable to gain her composure. So, I became her caregiver out of necessity. That was the first time I was like “no, this is what she’s experiencing and this is what she needs.”

How did you know what to say or do?

Patrece: My mom showed me how to care for others. She was a childcare provider, a domestic worker, and a community caregiver.

And you’re modeling caregiving for your children.

Patrece: I hope they can extend that level of care to their loved ones, but I also hope they learn better boundaries. Being my mom’s primary caregiver has given me and my children a chance to talk about how they might care for me one day, in ways that don’t disrupt their lives. I want them to be involved, but I don’t want them to put down their lives for me. I’m in the process of researching long term care and figuring out what I need to do financially to alleviate some of that burden later.

How are you preparing for your mother’s eventual death?

Patrece: We don’t leave anything unsaid, even the uncomfortable or hurtful things. I want to honor the sacred and limited time we have left by having conversations that help us get to a better space. I also save voicemail messages from her that can speak to my future self.

What does the relationship with your “baby adults,” as you call your kids, look like at this stage of life?

Patrece: Parenting never ends. They’re fiercely independent but they still call me when they need support and when they’re stressed or upset. We continue to accompany each other through life. Not out of obligation but as something we choose to do.

You care for a lot of people but how do you care for yourself?

Patrece: I acknowledge what I’m journeying through. When someone asks how I’m doing, instead of just saying “I’m ok” or “I’m fine,” I use the phrase “I’m well enough.”Well enough to be on this call, for example, but there may still be something I’m struggling with or juggling behind the scenes. I also ask for help and I’m specific about it. Even if it’s just saying, “I need you to acknowledge all that I’m carrying and be gentle with me.”

This interview has been lightly edited for publication.

Mom Thread

• Chasing dreams: Let’s hear it for the Olympic moms going for gold with their kids in tow. I love this quote from three-time medalist Kendall Coyne Schofield: “I wanted my son to know he wasn’t the reason I stopped playing hockey but the reason I continued to play hockey. And any hard day I might have, or source of inspiration I need, I can just look at him and it’s right in front of me.”

• Around the world: Even in Denmark, which boasts one of the world’s strongest social safety nets, moms pay a motherhood penalty (lower pay, reduced opportunities, fewer promotions) but government benefits offset 80 percent of that loss.

• Group trip?: Designing Motherhood: Things that Make and Break Our Births is currently on view at the Museum of Art and Design in NYC until March 15. I hear there’s a whole section dedicated to safety products marketed to anxious parents!

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: Sami Andrew
JOB: Parenting coach for incarcerated dads
LOCATION: Temple, Texas

As a mom with ADHD raising kids each “a different flavor of neuro-spicy,” Sami has to dig deep sometimes to find motivation. That’s because she struggles with executive function skills essential for managing the many logistics of parenthood. Organization, planning, staying focused, tracking schedules. It’s a lot and never ending. So, Sami has taught her kids (ages 11, 17, and 22) that it’s ok to say, “I don’t have the energy for this”— whatever it is—when they’re having a rough day. “If I expect my children to give me grace, then I have to do the same for them.”

Recognizing your own needs is something that she “soapbox preaches” to her students, all incarcerated dads trying to connect and bond with their kids from behind bars. “If you are not ok, you cannot meet the needs of your children,” she tells them. Sami knows when she needs to take a beat. And rather than snap out of it and soldier on, as moms are too often told to do, she leans into those feelings.

What’s the hardest part about being a neurodivergent caregiver that neurotypical people may not understand?

Sami: I have ADHD so, for me, playing and being silly can be hard. Having a noisy home can be difficult. I get to a point where I don’t want to be touched. I remember the first time I looked at my kiddo and was like, “stop touching me.” The defeat in her little eyes absolutely broke my heart. There are days I can’t motivate myself to do anything. My kids have similar struggles.

How do you push back against self care advice that may not account for neurodivergence?

Sami: I am brutally honest with myself. Sometimes it’s telling myself, “I know you don’t want to do this, but you have to.” I don’t allow myself to have excuses. I have rough days, but I’m not gonna say I didn’t get something handled because of my ADHD when I know that I sat on my phone and scrolled for two hours. When I call myself out, it’s out of self-love. I don’t shame or guilt myself.

As you shouldn’t. What systemic change would make your life better?

Sami: In the United States, motherhood is built on chronic overstimulation, constant urgency, and a culture that moralizes exhaustion by equating being a “good” mother with doing more. Burnout is treated as a personal failure rather than the outcome of an unsustainable system. We need parenting support that is proactive, not crisis-based. And systems that are designed with the assumption that mothers have different brains, burnout is predictable, and nervous system regulation support is essential.

How do you define “good enough” parenting?

Sami: Being present. You can’t go wrong if you show up as long as you do more listening than speaking. Our kids learn by watching us. So, everything doesn’t need a lecture. The way we respond to our children when they turn to us during tough times will solidify whether they come to you or not in the future. I want my children to be whole humans that feel safe within their bodies and know that they have a home base to come to, should they need it.

Were you always this intentional about the way you parent?

Sami: For a long time, I did the bare minimum for my kids. I made sure they were fed and showed up at school events but otherwise I poured myself into my work. I didn’t know how to parent because I wasn’t parented. I was controlled to some degree by my mother, who was in survival mode.

What made you reassess your role as a mom?

Sami: Four years ago I took a course to become a certified parenting coach, and I went in there thinking I knew everything about child rearing. I was a juvenile corrections officer. I worked for CPS (Child Protection Services). I was a teacher. Child development was my game. But the course was a punch to the gut. My kids weren’t being seen or heard.

What was the turning point at home?

Sami: When my son was in first grade, he was in ISS (in-school suspension) every day and would come home defeated. So, I decided to homeschool him. My husband was shocked. He was like, “honey, you know you struggle.” And he wasn’t wrong. When my kids were on summer vacation, I would be so burnt out that I wanted to run away. Even on weekends, I couldn’t do it. But I had to do what was best for my son, and I ended up loving being a mom.

How do you define your identity beyond family and career?

Sami: Skating is my non-negotiable. I grew up in a bad area of Cleveland, Ohio—I witnessed my first drive-by shooting in the second grade—and the skating rink was my safe place. As an adult, I played roller derby for years until I got injured. But I still find time to go skating by myself. I also enjoy building cars with my husband. The truck I’m building now is an homage to my mother, who did drag racing. I’ll lay on the ground and work on it. It’s taught me a lot of patience. Things don’t always work out the way you think they will.

What do you hope for other neurodivergent families out there?

Sami: I want there to be more emphasis on discovering what genuinely works for each family and far less pressure to conform to narrow definitions of what is considered “normal.” I hope neurodivergent families feel empowered to build lives that honor their nervous systems, their needs, and their rhythms, rather than forcing themselves to fit into a system that wasn’t designed for them.

This interview has been lightly edited for publication.

Mom Thread

• Around the world: A newish law in Colombia allows incarcerated females who are heads of households to serve out their remaining sentence outside of prison. It recognizes that many women, including convicted drug offenders, often break the law out of desperation to feed their families.

• Animal kingdom: Bereaved chimpanzee mothers are known to carry around their dead infants. 💔

• Call the moms: Diapers, wipes, breast milk... Moms in Minneapolis are stepping up by delivering supplies to immigrant families. “When one mom hurts we are all hurting.”

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!

Who am I

Mothering has always been a central theme in my life. I was raised by a single mom, an immigrant, who had to fend for herself in a country that wasn’t exactly welcoming. Because she spoke limited English, my sister and I served as her de facto translators when we were growing up. Moving seamlessly between English and Spanish, anticipating follow up questions, and articulating whatever needed to be conveyed. Come to think of it, I had to put on my mom hat as early as elementary school when I would ask teachers how younger Grace was doing in school during parent conferences and regurgitate the whole thing back in another language. The mental gymnastics!

While my dad was an involved father, he wasn’t my secondary caregiver. My aunt was. She and my younger cousin lived with us in our apartment in Queens. Our own little mommune. So, it was my aunt who shared the load. And although we were five women (six when my grandmother needed care and came to live with us) left to propel ourselves forward any which way, we were not alone. All around us—next door, upstairs, downstairs—we were surrounded by neighboring mothers who looked out for one another and the kids in their midst. They were the watchers, the protectors, the hands when we needed an extra pair.

So, I have always had caring moms in my life. And I want more of that. Not just for me but for all mothers.

Why we’re here

I love talking to other caregivers and finding the threads that connect us as human beings. Those interactions were truly the best part of my former job as Editor in Chief of Parents. Even when I interviewed celebrities, parenthood and its many demands always felt like the great equalizer. That’s because we are all mothers just trying to get through the day.

But what that day looks like and how we maneuver it is different for everyone. The Mommune is a safe space where moms from all walks of life feel comfortable peeling away at the layers and sharing the joys, worries, and messy middle of raising kids. My goal is to remind mothers that they’re not alone as we build community—together. If we can highlight how policymakers can do right by us, so much the better.

I believe in the power of lived experience to create meaningful change, both at the individual and systemic levels. Every mom has a story to tell and, one by one, I want to help unravel these tales. After today, in each regular newsletter, we’ll hear from a mom out in the wild, Q&A style so that their voice comes through loud and clear. While some names you’ll recognize and others you won’t, the words are sure to resonate with you, no matter what.

Who is this for

This newsletter is for moms wondering if they’re the only ones going through [fill in the blank]. Aunties, neighbors, friends figuring out how to best show up for the moms in their lives. And policy makers nodding their heads in agreement that the only way to create human-centered solutions for the issues plaguing families today is to talk to the moms. Always talk to the moms.

So please subscribe, share this with someone you know, and, in the comments, let me know of a mom you’d like to shout out.