Wait, am I CRAZY? I’m going crazy, that’s for sure.
Making a website while being a Stay at Home Mom? Chasing a toddler while trying to craft and design? Keep my late planted garden alive while my daughter pulls the tomatoes off still green?
Will I EVER be happy with how my website looks? Probably not. But I’m going to keep plugging away and making it what I want. And getting back to blogging. Because I need an outlet, and a place to share. (Even if no one reads it) So I’m back at it!
Let’s be real, the pressure to “bounce back” after having a baby is REAL.
To lose the “baby weight”, to “exercise” to “eat right” or “diet”. I mean, celebrities bounce back to their pre-baby bodies, so why can’t I?
The number of these posts I see on social media is astounding- and honestly heartbreaking. Look at this article about how “incredible” these celeb “transformations” were. Or the article explaining how to get your body back.
I know we all want to look and feel out best, but we grew an entire human AND an extra organ! And if you’re in the US like I am, you employer likely only allows you 6-8 weeks of maternity leave to “heal” your body. Never mind bonding with your child or get used to life as a new family.
I’m sure the majority of us don’t have a Nanny, or a Cook, or a Maid (and if you do, more power to ya – I’m jealous!). We don’t have a personal trainer or a plastic surgeon on call. We don’t have endless hours to spend at the gym, or the extra money to buy that trendy smoothie everyone is raving about.
From childhood, we’re immersed in images of the “perfect body”.
(Granted, things have come a long way since the early 2000’s when I was a kid.) It’s nice to see models out there with stretch marks, soft bellies, and even actual plus size representation. But still to this day, I don’t really see anyone who has my body shape. (Before and after giving birth). And honestly? That’s OKAY. It’s a bit frustrating, sure, but that doesn’t mean I have to look like those models to like how I look or to know I’ll look good in something I want to wear.
I used to be, 110 lbs in high school. Then my metabolism caught up with me. Right before my due date with my daughter, I hit 200 lbs. The midwives were great to measure in kilograms, but I know how to roughly estimate what that would be in lbs.
It was a scary number to me.
How could I have been so small, and now I’ve almost doubled that? I’m twice the amount of people I was. But I also remind myself, I graduated high school 15 years ago! (My reunion is coming up!) Of course my body isn’t going to be the same it was when I was 17. Just like my personality and my character and my soul, I’ve grown. I’ve changed. I’ve matured. And that’s not a bad thing!
I could spend all day stressing about what I’m going to wear, how I’m going to fit into the smaller sized jeans at the back of my closet, or count the calories I’ve eaten each day. (All things I’ve done in the past.) Or, I could realize that the size I am now (165lbs…ish? I don’t think we even own a scale) is an okay size to be.
Sure, I’d love to loose 10-15lbs. But it’s hardly even spring here in Maine. We’ve had a couple nice days, but it’s been raining just about every day here. It’s hard to drag a toddler out into the 55°F weather and expect her to enjoy her time outside.
Yeah, we could exercise inside. But I’d rather not have her using me as a jungle gym while I try to do yoga in the living room. (Having 2 dogs and 2 cats don’t help either.)
So instead, I’ll focus on what’s actually important.
Playing with my daughter.
Teaching her fun things.
Teaching her new words.
Letting her try new foods.
I’m really lucky that she wants to try everything we eat. She’s more of a savory kid then a sweet one. (Idk who she got that from, it wasn’t me or her father).
I also refuse to let her grow up mentally fighting with herself over her body. That battle is hard enough as it is with everything that’s thrown at us from outside sources.
Instead, I’ll teach her to enjoy all kinds of foods. To show her that it’s okay to have sweets, in moderation.
We’re going to have a garden this year and I want her to be involved, so she gets the satisfaction of growing her own food.
Instead of hating her body, I want her to love her body.
And for me to teach her to love her body, I am choosing to love mine.
To love the lumpy parts and the bumpy parts.
To love the stripes on my belly and the new shape of my breasts. (Breastfeeding really does a number on those puppies!).
I love my slightly crooked nose and that one eye that squints just a little more than the other. I love the way I laugh and the way I talk. I love that my body created another human! That it did the work it had to bring her into this world and in my arms.
Why should I speak so badly of the marvel I lived through?
(Even if I did loathe being pregnant, but that’s a story for another time.)
My body (for the most part) is healthy. It tells me when something is wrong or if I’m sick. It’s full of love and happiness and believes in the goodness in other people. My body is part of what makes me, me!
One of the biggest moments in my life that made me learn to love the body I have, is realizing that it’s the only one I get.
I had a friend who hated being in pictures because of how they looked. They hated their body, their smile, their laugh. One day, I saw a post on social media that said to Take the picture anyways, so future generations can remember you.
This still sticks with me.
Someday, we all leave this earth. Pictures are the only tangible proof that we were here.
If I were to be gone tomorrow, I wouldn’t want my biggest regret to be that my daughter wouldn’t remember my face.
My smile.
My crooked nose.
My slightly squinty eye.
I want her to be able to share photos someday with the people she loves. When I’m long gone from this earth and that’s all she has left. Photographs and memories. But if I waste my time, hating the body I’m in, I don’t get to be present with her. I’ll deny being in the pictures that could hold a strong moment of love. So I will choose to accept my body, as it was when I was younger, as it is today, and as it will change as I get older.
Dear Body,
Thank you for bringing me on this journey of life. For growing with me, both to adulthood and into motherhood.
Thank you for growing my child, my most precious treasure. For allowing me the privilege of bringing her into this world.
Thank you for adapting, for being ever changing. For allowing me to see, to think, to feel.
Even though our journey together hasn’t been the easiest, I thank you for toughing it out with me.
Thank you for weathering the hardest days, the heart break, and the breakdowns.
Thank you for holding me steady through growing, both physically and mentally.
Thank you for guiding me through this life, for fighting through health conditions and illness, in order for me to become who I am today, and for who I’ll be tomorrow.
I promise to honor you and appreciate you as we age. I will keep you healthy, (within my control) and do my best to take care of you through the rest of this life. I promise you accept you as you are now, and as we will be tomorrow. In time, I may want to change some things, but only to the betterment of both of us.
Love,
Casie
I hope that this speaks to you.
And that if you’re still struggling with your body, I hope you can take something from this and be a little kinder to yourself.
You deserve self love.
You deserve peace.
You deserve to be remembered in every way possible.
I promise you are worthy, no matter the season your body is in.
Ok, I already know, everyone is going to judge me for using Boil in Bag Rice. Get your laughter out now. Get the criticism and judgement out now. I’ll wait.
Cool, got it out? Ok good! Lets be real, someday’s we just need a good set it and forget it so I can walk away and do other things and not think about part of dinner cooking. I also do NOT have the space for a rice cooker.
You know when you’ve had chicken too many times in one week and you’re just, OVER it. This recipe is perfect for those times. Its flavorful, filling, and just some thing a little different.
Ingredients
Chicken
2 bags Boil in Bag Rice
1 Chicken Breast(per 2 people), butterflied and cut into bite sized pieces
Salt and Pepper
1/4 Tbsp Onion Powder
1/4 Tbsp Ginger
2 Tbsp Flour
2 Tbsp Corn Starch
3Tbsp Butter
2 Tbsp Veg Oil
Sauce
1/3 Cup Honey
1 Tbsp Soy Sauce
1 1/2 Tbsp Apple Cider Vin
6 Shakes Fish Sauce
1-2 Tbsp Minced Garlic(Measure with your soul)
Shake of Red Pepper Flake
(My daughter added oregano lol)
Instructions
Make your rice (Boil in bag, or rice cooker or however you choose!)
Butterfly Chicken and Cut into Bite size Pieces
Put Cornstarch and Flour on a deep plate or in a bowl and add in Spices; mix it all up
Coat chicken pieces in the flour/cornstarch/spices mixture
Melt Butter and Oil over Medium
Add your chicken and cook until golden brown, you’ll need to flip halfway through
While the Chicken cooks, make your sauce
Add all sauce ingredients together, I did this in a 2cup measuring cup and mixed it with a small whisk (a fork would work)
Once the Chicken is cooked, move it to the edges of the pan so the middle of the pan is clear and turn the temp down to medium low
Pour your sauce into the middle of the pan and let cook for a couple minutes, it should get fairly thick. If its too sweet for you, you can add half a cup of water.
Mix your chicken into the sauce
Servce over rice!
Thats it. Its honestly so simple, but so good! I like the fish sauce but you can leave it out!
Because as soon as I say break, I feel the guilt rise, my heart drop, and a twinge of sadness creep in—for even wanting to be away from my baby. How could I possibly want time apart from the person I created? The one I longed for, dreamed of, and, at times, suffered to bring into this world. How can I want to step away when she looks at me and smiles, or laughs, or yells out Mama?
I find myself feeling jealous of my husband. He gets to wake up and shower—alone. Get ready for work—alone. Make breakfast—alone—without a toddler pulling at his pant leg or needing to balance a baby on his hip to stir eggs with one hand. He drives an hour to work and an hour back—alone.
I remember those days—headed into the city, music on, or maybe a true crime podcast in the background. Alone in the car. Some days I hated the commute. But most days? I appreciated it. It was time to decompress—especially on the way home. I could get out my daily frustrations with music blasting or by diving into the twisted world of Ted Bundy.
These days, my commute is from my daughter’s room to the living room and kitchen.
It’s listening to Wheels on the Bus 1,000 times (in a row), while she asks me to switch to a different version 15 seconds in. It’s teaching her that crayons are for coloring books—not the floor. It’s eating the rest of the mac & cheese she didn’t finish (or gave to the dogs). I still get some of my music, but only if her mood allows it. Will she want Post Malone today? (Honestly, most likely—she’s loved him since she was tiny.) Or will it be Bounce Patrol singing about the alphabet and animals? No true crime podcasts or TV unless it’s during nap time—and we’re down to one nap a day.
After the third or fourth meltdown—over something small, like not opening a cheese stick fast enough, or because I had the audacity to sit on the toilet without her in my lap—I feel myself needing a moment to myself. But those moments are rare. Even showers aren’t guaranteed “me” time. We don’t have a tub, so most nights I end up showering with her. Sink tubbie time? Exhausting. (She’d stay in there for hours if I let her.)
Lately, my husband has had to travel for work. I’m happy for him—these are great opportunities. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t daydream about being the one to go. A solo trip, even for a day. A hotel room. Takeout. Trashy TV. Maybe a sleeping pill and eight uninterrupted hours of sleep—something I haven’t had since pregnancy. (At no fault to my husband). But then comes the guilt.
How could I spend 24 hours away from my entire world? I’ve never even spent a night without her—not since the day she was born. But still…I need a break. Or… do I? Is break even the right word?
Some space? Yes. To not be needed for a little while? Absolutely. To not have to think? Even better.
But Break feels harsh.
Merriam-Webster says a break is “to separate into parts with suddenness or violence.” Yikes. Not exactly what I meant.
I haven’t touched a thesaurus in years, but I looked. I found “pause,” which already feels better. Even “hesitate” pops up—and funny enough, that word fits too. Because every time I think about taking a break… I hesitate.
I probably haven’t looked at a Thesaurus in years. Can you think of the last time you did? I appreciate how it gives a list of the ways you may use the word break. I felt like a pause, was already a better word than break. I also find it funny that the word hesitate comes up. Because every time I think about a “break”, I also find myself hesitating.
Still, none of the words seem to really fit.
Because let’s be real: as moms, we’re usually the default parent. We carry the mental load. And if your household is anything like mine, sometimes the only “break” in your day is a solo shower—if you’re lucky. So when those rare, extended moments of silence come? They feel like a breath of fresh air. Maybe breath is the word I’m looking for.
Yesterday, I texted my husband and said that when he got home, I needed time alone. I wasn’t in the right headspace—after a full week of solo parenting—to show up for him and our daughter. I told him I needed a little trip to the store. Alone.
He immediately responded: “When you get back, you can shower alone too.”
It wasn’t a spa day. It was still a chore. But just knowing I could wander the aisles aimlessly? That I wouldn’t have a toddler screaming from the cart or trying to bolt toward the bananas? That I could just exist, by myself, for a bit. That was everything.
What I really need is just a moment of peace. To clear out the clutter in my brain. To exist outside of motherhood, even if just for an hour or two. Because at the end of the day, I’m more than just a mom. I’m more than just a wife. We all are. We are our own, individual people. Maybe unwind is the right word. Or reset.
Break feels too negative. I don’t want to escape my family. I don’t want to be away from my daughter. Break just doesn’t fit the emotions I actually feel. I don’t want to escape my family. I don’t want to be away from my daughter.
I just need a rest. A pause. An exhale.
So I can ground myself—and come back better. A better mom. A better wife. A better me.
When we decided I’d stay home with our daughter, we didn’t exactly have a financial roadmap, or any sort of plan to survive on one income. We just knew that daycare was too expensive, my job situation wasn’t working, and our daughter deserved the kind of care only we could give her. So we took the leap—and then we started figuring it out as we went. This post isn’t a guide or a “how-to” (because I’m not that mom), but it is a look at the real things we’ve done to make one income work in 2024-2025.
Let’s be real- it’s the question on everyone’s mind: In 2025, how is any family supposed to afford having one parent stay home and care for the kid(s)?
I’ll be honest—some weeks are just plain hard.
Technically, my husband’s a “white-collar” worker. He’s in Health and Safety at a milk company, (and working on getting an OSHA degree) while it’s a solid job, climbing the ladder takes time. Like any good elder millennial, we know it’s all about the long game—waiting for people to retire or move on so you can take the next step up. So in order to make life more comfortable, we have to bide our time until the next step becomes available.
Originally, the plan was for me to go back to work after six weeks of leave. But between the drama with my employer and the eye-watering cost of daycare, it didn’t make much sense. I’d basically be working just to cover childcare. So instead of handing most of my paycheck over to a daycare center, we decided I’d stay home and care for her myself. She’d get my full attention, and we’d raise her exactly how we wanted.
The first few months were rough—I won’t sugarcoat it. At one point, I was so deep in job boards and cover letters that I ended up rewriting my husband’s resume and applying to jobs for him. That’s actually how he landed the role he’s in now. Total win-win: better pay, and a company that values what he brings to the table and actually supports his passion for the work. A place with an actual future, and it allowed me to stop looking for a part time job, or one of those ever elusive “work from home” jobs that I’m convinced don’t actually exist.
After a while, I started looking at our subscriptions and non-essential bills. Did we really need Netflix, Peacock, and Crunchyroll? Were we even using half of what we were paying for? I asked myself: could I swap name-brand foods for cheaper versions, or just make them from scratch instead of buying them pre-made? Could we save money by switching our car or homeowners insurance to a different company? These were all things I looked at—and yeah, I made some cuts and tweaks where I could.
Next big thing? Meal planning. And I’ll be honest—meal planning isn’t always easy, especially when you’re not someone who can eat the same thing every day. (That’s me.) I try to keep a good rotation going. Meanwhile, my husband could happily eat the same five meals forever and not complain once. (Idk man, he’s weird.)
I usually shop at Walmart and Hannaford (yeah, Food Lion for some of you). I find produce and meats are often cheaper at Hannaford (and the quality seems to be higher), while Walmart wins when it comes to “center store” stuff—aka the pre-packaged and non-perishables. (Sorry, I used to work in a grocery store’s corporate office, old habits die hard.)
Each week I check the Hannaford flyer—Walmart doesn’t do flyers—and see what’s on sale in terms of meat, fruits, and veggies. From there, I either pull from my own recipe stash or do a quick Google search for something that’s easy and budget-friendly. Then I build my carts online—usually on my laptop, not the app—and either schedule a grocery pickup or use my cart as a digital shopping list and head to the store. Sometimes it’s nice to get the baby out of the house, but let’s be real… when I go in person, I tend to spend more. I see a snack I like or something I could maybe make, and into the cart it goes.
Could I be saving even more? Probably. And yeah, I’d love to monetize this blog someday. But I’m not here to sell you anything. I don’t want to be one of those moms pushing a “passive income course” or charging you for tips on how to “keep your toddler calm.” That’s not me.
I want to build a community of moms who get it—who are in the thick of it, like me. I’d never want to take someone’s hard-earned money, especially if there’s something I can teach or share for free that might make your day even a little bit easier.
This blog is still new and finding its rhythm. But my hope is that, over time, it can be a space that inspires you in your own journey through motherhood. I won’t be your typical influencer mom—but I will be honest, real, and a little silly along the way.
In a perfect world, Sundays would be for rest. Maybe brunch, a nap, some kind of quiet reset before Monday.
But as a parent of a toddler? Yeah—there are no rest days.
Weekends are for all the big chores. The “extra” stuff that never seems to get done during the week: washing sheets and blankets, building that piece of furniture that’s been sitting in the garage for three weeks, reorganizing the fridge that’s somehow already a mess again. (I swear I threw out those leftovers last week!)
I guess, if I were a god-fearing woman, I’d find time to rest before or after church. But I’m not religious. So instead, my husband and I take turns “sleeping in” on Saturdays and Sundays (and let’s be honest, sleeping in means 8 AM if we’re lucky). The rest of the weekend is spent trying to get the house in order, tackle the groceries, and gear up for the week ahead.
The last few weekends have been even more chaotic than usual—because our daughter got her big girl bed! Which is honestly kind of bittersweet. I had planned on doing one of those cute little Montessori floor beds, but we already had a queen mattress from our old setup (we upgraded to a king when we bought the house), so it just made sense to use what we had.
After some intense internet sleuthing, I found this beautiful four-poster bed on sale, and I couldn’t pass it up. It’s solid, timeless, and should last her well into her teen years (that’s the hope, anyway). I still need to add the curtains I bought to the “posters”, but the pocket was too small, so I’ll need to sew a new one. (Link to the bedframe at the bottom! And No, I don’t get any commission!)
In other “house things that feel bigger than they are,” I also grabbed one of those behind-the-toilet storage towers. (It was on clearance—because of course it was, I love a deal.) Our old bathroom shelf used to hold all our laundry stuff, since we’ve got a stacked washer/dryer situation in our bathroon. But now that Lorelai can reach it? Not ideal. The new tower keeps things out of her hands but still accessible for us. My husband hates it. But I think it looks cute! I popped on some blue glass storage jars I scored at the Target dollar section forever ago, and honestly, it’s giving “Pinterest mom on a budget.” (I added my pintrest to the bottom, just in case.)
Eventually, I want to organize the bathroom closet and swap out the hardware on the tower shelf with these adorable shark-shaped knobs I bought ages ago. But that’s another weekend’s problem, and the knobs are somewhere, in a box, from when we moved into this house.
I guess weekends have kind of just become the default “project time” because it’s the only time it’s not just Lorelai and me at home. It’s hard to tackle anything big with a toddler glued to your leg. And evenings are dinner, bath, bedtime, and—if we’re lucky—twenty minutes of couch time before we crash.
I know it’ll get easier. When she can self-entertain a little more, when I don’t need to be on toddler-alert 24/7. And sure, I let her watch some TV here and there (I’m not above Ms.Rachel, or Bounce Patrol). But I’ve never wanted the TV to be a constant babysitter. I try to involve her when I can… but some projects just aren’t 16-month-old-friendly.And that’s just how it is right now. No rest on Sundays. No aesthetic “slow mornings.” Just a whole lot of love, a little chaos, and a house that’s always almost clean.
(So let me start this off by saying, this could be even LESS than $5.25. If you already own food coloring! I did not.) All you’re going to need is 2 ingredients. Food coloring, and a bag of uncooked rice. I used a 2 lb bag and I’d suggest at least 2 lbs of rice. (Also, I think you can get food coloring at Dollar Tree for $1.25. This would save you the extra $2 I spent at Walmart.) Everything else that I used for this sensory bin, were items I had around my house!
Depending on how many dishes you want to wash, (either use the 4 separate bowls, or keep reusing one, whatever floats your boat!) grab 4 bowls and evenly distribute the rice, leaving 1/5th behind in the bag. Then, add a few drops (5ish) of food coloring to each bowl. It’s kinda like Easter! But instead of eggs, it’s rice! *Bonus Activity, you could color the rice then add your Easter eggs to the bowl and swirl them around for a cool design!* Stir your rice and food coloring around until the rice is covered.
Don’t go TOO crazy, because the food coloring will only go so deep into the rice. It’ll only get so pigmented but I was pleasantly surprised that the rice dried fairly fast! Once each color is dry, mix all the rice together in a large bowl, including the rice you left white.
I initially had all the rice in a large empty seltzer water bottle. My daughter used this as a shaker for a while, it was a worthy instrument. But after some time had passed, she lost interest, and I figured it would be more fun for her to play with her hands and with some tools. But, as a parent of a Toddler, we all know how quickly a mess can happen. So I had to figure out a way for her to play with the rice, without it being ALL over my house.
I had a light bulb moment! We had just got some totes so I could do some organizing, and one of them we hadn’t put anything into yet. It was a big tote, so I knew she’d fit with room to spare. I brought over the tote and dumped the rice into it in front of her. She was FACINATED! And immediately wanted to be in the tote so she could try to put the rice back into the bottle. And thus, the Rice Sensory Bin was born!
Since we live in beautiful, snowy Maine, we get lots, and lots of snow. (Not like when I was a kid, but still enough to despise shoveling.)
My daughter hasn’t really gotten the hang of shoes yet. Especially boots. (Those suckers are heavy!) So we haven’t spent a whole lot of time outside in the snow. But, she’s so interested in it!
So instead of going out into the snow, I brought the snow inside to us! I dug down a bit to get past that hard, crunchy layer. (I used a Tupperware container 😅) Then I filled the container with snow and brought it in. I set her up in her highchair (a towel on the floor soaks up the inevitable mess) then I added in cut up blueberries and grapes and put some sprinkles on top!
This kept her busy for about a half an hour! I replenished the snow every so often so she could continue to play. She definitely needed an outfit and diaper change afterwards. But I’d say mission success!
So, thinking about this, I could take the easy route. The obvious road to this answer. Because of course, my daughter is my #1 favorite person. I can’t get enough of her ❤️ She’s my best friend, my whole world!
My favorite people are the ones who make my heart feel full. My Husband, my Mom, my sister in-laws. The friends I’ve reconnected with from highschool or previous jobs. Who I can be 100% me around, and can be themselves in return.
But other than her and my Husband and our animals….I enjoy being with people who put in the effort. The ones who match my crazy, who understand that being a mom is HARD. That sometimes I forget to respond(sometimes for days on end).
I’m thankful for my tribe, my village, and my chosen family. The real ones, the fun ones. The ones I can share my innermost self and innermost feelings with. Who cheer me on, from near or afar. Who I can cheer on as well.
Trust me I’m the FIRST person to make a joke about crack. Did I make multiple jokes about the Crack I brought to Christmas? Yes. Am I a 12 year old boy? At times.
Do I love a stupid joke? Always.
I love all things Toffee and/or Caramel. I’ve always wanted to make this, but for some reason I just never have. Until this year! So I loosely followed the Pillsbury recipe!
Ingredients:
3 sleeves of Saltine crackers (Store brand is fine)
1 Can of Sweetened Condensed Milk
1 Cup Brown Sugar (I used dark) firmly packed
1/2 Cup(1 stick) Softened Butter
1/4 Cup Whole Milk
1 Bag of Ghirardelli Chocolate Chips
Instructions:
Line a cookie sheet with Aluminum Foil and spray with cooking spray
Line up crackers side by side on the tray until the tray is full. (About 1 sleeve for each layer)
In a medium size sauce pan on medium low to medium add in your Sweetened Condensed milk, butter, milk and brown sugar. Stir until combined and then turn up heat to medium high.
Heat sugar until “simmering” (its thick and you don’t want to risk getting burnt). Stir constantly for 5-10 minutes until the sugar mixture starts to thicken and is Nappe(slight coating on spoon but will still drizzle off) on your spoon. (To be 100% transparent, I just cooked my sugar mixture until it seemed thick enough but not to thick 😅 I definitely cooked it longer then the pillsbury version said but I didn’t time it as I was doing 100 things at once.)
Using a spatula (I prefer an offset) pour 1/3rd of your toffee mixture onto the crackers. Pour slowly and spread with your spatula so it covers all crackers.
Place 2 more rows of crackers and toffee mixture (you should use all the toffee mixture)
Melt your chocolate chips in the microwave. 30 second intervals and mixing in-between until the chocolate is melted. Then pour on top of your last row of toffee and spread over the entire thing.
Add any toppings you may like. Sprinkles, nuts, a little sea salt.
