A Rambling Mama

I have spent a lot of time lately waiting for the "exhale." You know the one—that deep, cleansing breath you take when the storm finally passes, and the sun peeks through. On paper, the storm has finally cleared for us; another season of life has transitioned. It was quite a stressful season of unemployment. But now I’m back to working from home in an even better job. My thirteen-year-old, Liam, is absolutely thriving; he’s crushing it in school, dedicated to his Taekwondo practice, and having a blast playing rec basketball. Even our two dogs, Teddy the mini-bernedoodle and Winston the cockapoo, seem to have settled into a happy rhythm. But if I’m being honest—the kind of honesty that usually stays tucked away in my journal—I’ve been struggling. I thought that once I landed the job, the anxiety would simply vanish. Instead, I’ve found that the stress of unemployment left a ripple effect that is still washing over me. Even though the immediate crisis is over, I find myself stu...

If you walked into my dining room right now, you’d see a snapshot of a life that is—by traditional standards—a bit of a disaster. There are board games, half-finished LEGOs, napkins scattered like confetti, and a precarious tower of takeout sauces from various meals, serving as a makeshift centerpiece. My house isn’t the cleanest. There is dust on the baseboards and a permanent pile of laundry in my laundry room.  When my husband passed away, I looked at this life and felt certain it would all collapse. I was convinced that grief would be the weight that finally pulled me under. I thought for sure I would fail. I feared I’d lose the home he worked so hard to provide us with, that I’d be unable to keep a job, and that my emotions would become a permanent, unpredictable storm I couldn’t navigate. Most of all, I feared I wouldn’t be enough to raise our son. But here is the thing about the "mess" on my table: I am not drowning. For two solid years following his death, I didn'...

I will be the first to admit it: my "rambling" usually involves parenting chaos, political insights, or travel, and sometimes a bit of historical whisps. But lately, my mind has been stuck on a much more stressful loop—the modern-day job hunt. If you’ve been following along, you know I’m a "roots" kind of person. I like to plant things, nurture them, and watch them grow. That’s why being laid off just two days before the New Year—after over two years of pouring myself into a company—felt less like a fresh start and more like being uprooted in the middle of a winter storm. No warning, no fanfare, just a sudden "thanks for your service" and a very quiet house. The Numbers Game (And the AI of it All) Since then, I have put in hundreds of applications. I’ve done the old-school manual entries on company websites, and I’ve embraced the new-age tech by using AI job-hunting sites like Massive and JobHire. The result? Two interviews. They both went well—great, even...