The Homemade Life

There’s something about this time of year that always brings up more than I expect.
Maybe it’s the shift into winter.
Maybe it’s the way the holidays highlight both the sweetness and the stress of life.
Maybe it’s the fact that business slows down just as the expectations everywhere else seem to speed up.

Lately, I’ve felt like I’m living in that strange in-between, grateful, overwhelmed, reflective, tired, hopeful, and stretched… all at once.

On one hand, I love this season.
The lights, the comfort food, the kids’ excitement, the sense of slowing down.
On the other hand, I’m still a mom, still running a business, still trying to tie up loose ends before January, still managing emotions (both mine and everyone else’s), and still trying to remember that I can’t pour from an empty cup.

And if I’m honest, the emotional load of this time of year hits women differently.

We’re the ones coordinating gifts, planning schedules, remembering events, trying to keep the magic alive, trying to stay present, trying to stay patient, and trying not to let the overwhelm swallow us whole. Meanwhile, business doesn’t pause just because we want to.

Clients still need updates.
Listings still need attention.
Offers still show up at inconvenient times.
And our own self-care gets pushed to the bottom of the list… again.

This year, I’ve felt the push and pull more than usual.
The desire to slow down, and the pressure to keep going.
The exhaustion of doing so much, and the gratitude for everything I have.
The weight of responsibility, and the soft whisper reminding me I’m allowed to be human.

But here’s what I’m learning:
You can hold both.
You can be the strong one and still admit you’re tired.
You can love the holidays and still feel overwhelmed by them.
You can care about your business and still crave rest.
You can show up for everyone and still learn to show up for yourself.

And maybe that’s the real work of this season, not trying to be everything to everyone, but finally giving ourselves permission to be honest about what we need.

For me?
I need a slower morning.
A few boundaries.
A holiday season that doesn’t depend on me performing strength I don’t always feel.
And a reminder that even when life feels heavy, I am still moving forward, still growing, still becoming someone I’m proud of.

The holidays aren’t perfect.
Life isn’t perfect.
But neither of those things are the measure of a woman’s worth.

Some seasons are about giving.
Some are about receiving.
This one, for me, is about finding softness in the middle of everything I carry.

You’re not alone.
Take one small moment for yourself this week, something slow, something intentional, something that reminds you you exist outside of everything you do for everyone else.

You deserve that.

There is a version of leadership I believed in before becoming a mother — a version rooted in hustle, in availability, in the idea that being everywhere for everyone somehow proved my worth. I used to think strong leadership meant saying yes, showing up without pause, and keeping everything running even when I was running on fumes.

Motherhood changed that for me in quiet, subtle ways that I didn’t fully recognize until years later. It softened me, but it also sharpened me. It made me more intuitive, more decisive, and far more aware of what actually matters in my work. Motherhood taught me to read people in a way no business book could. It taught me patience, but also urgency — especially when I’ve only got an hour to get something done before school pickup or bedtime routines begin. It taught me how to communicate with clarity, because wasting time is no longer an option. And it taught me that boundaries aren’t about shutting people out; they’re about staying aligned with the things that need my attention the most.

I’ve stopped working from guilt or performance and started working from intention.
I don’t glorify busy anymore.
I don’t measure success by exhaustion.
And I no longer assume that being endlessly available is the same thing as being effective.

Motherhood strengthened my leadership because it forced me to see myself differently. I’m no longer a woman proving she can do everything — I’m a woman choosing where her energy goes, and that shift has changed the way I run my business completely. The more I grow as a mother, the more I grow as a leader, and the more I realize that my children don’t need a perfect example of success; they need an honest one.

They’re watching how I navigate pressure, how I recover from setbacks, how I treat myself, how I honour my time, and how I pursue a life that feels good to live. That is leadership. And it’s shaped every part of the way I show up in business today.

Your reflection this week:
What did motherhood strengthen in you that you didn’t recognize as leadership at the time?

This week felt like one of those classic “woman in business” moments — bouncing between client calls, accountability planning, two kids arguing over who stole whose hair brush, and me standing in the kitchen wondering how on earth I became the default emotional support human for literally everyone around me.

And yet, somehow, I still managed to convince myself I wasn’t doing enough.
(As if running a business, running a household, and running on caffeine isn’t already a full Olympic sport.)

It hit me, somewhere between prepping dinner and stepping over someone’s abandoned backpack, that this version of my life — as chaotic as it can be — is also the most me I’ve ever felt. I’m growing a business I love, raising two incredible girls, and figuring out what it means to rebuild a life that’s actually aligned with who I am now.

It’s not perfect. It’s not balanced. It’s not even close to organized some days.
But it’s honest. It’s real. And it’s mine.

So if you need the reminder too:
You don’t have to have everything together to be on the right path.
You don’t have to move fast to be making progress.
And you don’t have to show up perfectly to be making an impact.

Sometimes the win is simply showing up — a little tired, a little unhinged, a lot determined — and choosing to keep going anyway.

Here’s to the beautifully imperfect, wildly capable women doing their best in real time.
We’re doing better than we think.