Every day, I wake up to a storm of love, chaos, and responsibility. I’m a mom of five — a business owner, a teacher, a therapist, a nurse, a referee, and sometimes, just a tired woman doing her best. My youngest daughter is four years old and autistic. Her world is colorful, loud, structured, yet unpredictable. She’s full of love, quirks, and emotions that often speak louder than words.
And her twin brother, Maverick, has ADHD.
Together, they are a whirlwind — each on their own path, each needing completely different kinds of support. Maverick moves fast, feels big, and reacts quickly. He struggles with focus, impulse control, and big emotions — while his sister may melt down from sensory overload or changes in routine. It's like parenting on two totally different planets — at the same time.
And then I have three older kids, all in the thick of their own life chapters.
Axel is 19 and just stepping into adulthood. He’s figuring out who he is, outside of our home, outside of this town — searching for his purpose in a world that’s both wide open and terrifying.
Kaden will be a sophomore this year — still growing, still learning how to navigate teenage years while carrying the weight of the world in his own way.
And Abbi, my senior, is strong, driven, and preparing to take one of the biggest steps yet: she’s joining the Army. Watching her prepare, grow, and make adult choices fills me with pride and fear all at once.
Parenting them all — the toddlers, the teens, and the just-turned-adults — is not easy. It's layered. It’s exhausting. And it’s also the most meaningful, challenging thing I’ve ever done.
Running a business in the middle of it? That’s a whole other battle.
Between therapy appointments, emotional outbursts, late-night talks, sensory meltdowns, military paperwork, and everything in between — I’m trying to keep a dream alive. A business that helps support my family, gives me purpose, and allows me to show my kids that even when life feels impossible, we keep pushing.
And the truth is — I’m tired.
Not just physically tired — but soul tired. Because I live in a world that still doesn't fully understand autism. Or ADHD. Or what it's like to raise kids with invisible needs while carrying invisible struggles of your own.
When people stare at my daughter stimming — flapping her hands, barking, circling her head around, tapping the table just to name a few — I see the confusion. I feel the judgment. And while it would be easier to snap, to lash out, I try to pause and educate. Because maybe the next time they see a kid like her, they won’t whisper. They’ll understand.
But that takes energy. And grace. And truthfully, some days I don’t have much of either.
What works today might not work tomorrow. What calms one twin overstimulates the other. What one child needs may be the exact opposite of what the next one needs. There is no handbook. There is no break. It’s a constant shift — a new day, a new challenge.
But there is beauty, too.
There’s beauty in the moments that don’t make it to social media — like when Maverick says “I love you” mid-storm. Or when Makenzie connects in a way she never has before. Or when my older kids step in and help, showing me that somewhere along the way, I must’ve done something right.
So this is my truth. No filter. No sugarcoating.
I’m not a perfect mom. I’m a present one.
I’m not always strong. But I always show up.
And I’ll keep showing up — for my kids, for my business, and for the families who feel unseen.
You are not alone.