{"id":466,"date":"2026-05-08T12:01:00","date_gmt":"2026-05-08T16:01:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/?p=466"},"modified":"2026-05-05T14:56:12","modified_gmt":"2026-05-05T18:56:12","slug":"i-checked-flo-forgot-mothers-day-that-explains-everything","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/?p=466","title":{"rendered":"I Checked Flo. Forgot Mother’s Day. That Explains Everything."},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I’ve started this week’s post three different times now. I had a grand idea for a Mother’s Day post. Sweet, chaotic, a bit funny. Then I had a post ready about hormones and perimenopause. I had the Reel all made. But the truth is writing it the week before my period is probably not the best idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then I realized. I forgot Mother’s Day. Again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It happened last week when I made a solo trip to get groceries instead of going to the gym. I was getting ready to head home when I remembered Mother’s Day cards. I keep forgetting the holiday more and more despite Nick knowing it’s coming and wanting to celebrate it. Kudos to him for tracking it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There are a couple of reasons I don’t focus on it. One, I never had a partner before Nick that truly wanted to celebrate that achievement for me. And two, my mother has been gone for nearly seven years now. My brain has just chosen to set it on the backburner, simmering low so as not to start a house fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But enough of the woe is me. This post was supposed to be funny and relatable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here’s the thing though. At 45, motherhood doesn’t exist in a vacuum anymore. It’s layered with perimenopause and you can’t always tell which one is responsible for what. Is it ADHD or is it hormones? Am I touched out because I’m overstimulated or because it’s Day 19? Did I forget Mother’s Day because my brain deleted it as a coping mechanism or because my estrogen is tanking? Yes. All of it. At the same time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m sitting here with itchy armpits singing “Ain’t fun? Living in the real world”<\/em> and answering my own questions as I process this out loud. I keep trying to find a reason my armpits itch that isn’t hormones. But it’s hormones. I’m cruising out of ovulation and into my luteal phase with HRT on board. The same hormones that gave me motherhood are now giving me itchy armpits and insomnia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was making a delicious salad \u2014 this Mediterranean dense bean salad<\/a> Marisa sent me \u2014 when I noticed I was feeling touched out. I love Nick with every fiber of my body. I just came out of that part of my cycle where I’m sending out the signals “I’m a strong mate! Let’s make babies!”<\/em> and he wakes up wanting to kiss and snuggle. I’m NOT complaining. But when my hormones shift into “let’s get ready to ride the tide”<\/em> everything changes. Suddenly Finn breathing heavy on my thigh while I’m making salad feels like too much. Nick wanting to snuggle when my body is screaming for sleep feels like too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hormones, man. WTF? Why is my brain convinced 12:30am is the time to start thinking? Why do my armpits itch? Why do I constantly feel like I have a stuffy nose?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And yet here I am. Mothering through it. Because at the end of the day we always put our children first, regardless of how we’re feeling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Motherhood is a choice you make every day, to put someone else’s happiness and well-being ahead of your own” (Donna Ball). <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought about all the tiny bits that would go into this post while I was cleaning. Yup, I get my best ideas when I realize I’m not actually cleaning. I’m mostly picking up other people’s shit from where it doesn’t belong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marisa and I have bounced this back and forth more times than I can count. Motherhood with a supportive partner but coparenting with their ex AND your own ex while being a stepparent? Fucking new level unlocked. Blended families are not for the faint of heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Being a coparent with me ex and sharing my bonus girls with their mother means I’m doing quite damage control when I need to and letting things be at times because I’m not the primary parent. That’s a struggle at best most times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Being a step mom feels like earning love instead of being given it \u2014 and that makes it powerful” (Her True Wellness).<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I say this as I’m sitting here looking at a collection of cups, a bowl with a fork not from our house, a pile of clean clothes I folded last night, and a bag of cookies that haven’t found a home in someone’s stomach yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

New rule created today: If I can’t find what I need where it is so I can complete my task, it now becomes your task. I think it’s fair. Nick agreed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yesterday it was thousands of Post-It pieces in the laundry that someone left in their pocket. It’s looking for your tweezers and them being gone. Is nothing mine anymore? It’s the $481 National Grid bill. The $219 quarterly water bill. Buying different kinds of tampons for different kinds of needs. It’s all the invisible work that we do all day every day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meryl Streep said “motherhood has a very humanizing effect \u2014 everything gets reduced to essentials” (Vogue<\/em>, 2002). The essentials are Post-Its in the dryer and tweezers that have wandered off and remembering to turn off the lights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw something about how women over 40 are using raves like therapy and yes, I agree with my entire being that music is in fact therapy. We’re seeing Kasablanca this weekend. We have someone to stay with Evelyn and for a night we’ll exist as a couple, ourselves, and I can’t wait to be immersed in deep beat drops and sounds that thump my chest when I close my eyes. To remember what it feels like to be me and Nick without being Mom and Dad for a few hours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m sitting at my dining room table listening to Nick’s music as he works in his office. Evelyn in the living room in her sparkle dress flying her Lego airplane into the couch. Time with Emily at the gym finding myself again during the biggest change in my life emotionally and physically. Without my mom to talk to about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m grateful for healthy children that can drive me crazy in ways that are fixable and teachable. For a body that grew them safely and nurtured them. That carried them on my hip, sometimes on my back while mowing the lawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Motherhood is hard. Being able to allow your body, mind, and spirit to be changed by it is a gift. This wasn’t the original picture I painted but I’m honored to be afforded this time in my life. It’s exhausting. Kind of in the way a run on the treadmill is but man does it feel good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One more thing. The portrait series \u2014 the one I’ve been talking about since the beginning \u2014 goes live May 15th. The first subject is Marisa. Black and white photography, her story in my words, and the question I’ve been asking from the start: What would your chapter title be?<\/em> It’s finally ready.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

May 15th is the birthday of two very important people I loved and lost before they got to see me fully become the mother I am. One of them gave me the best parenting advice I ever received: “Always remember at some point in your life you were their age. You were on the receiving end of a parent talking to you whether happy or disappointed or angry. Always remember how that felt when approaching your own.”<\/em> I think about that on the hard days especially. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I picture the older women in my life \u2014 the ones who have already survived this \u2014 surrounding me every time some new perimenopause curveball sneaks up on me. An emo chorus in cardigans. All of them singing in perfect harmony: Ain’t it fuuuun? Living in the real world. Baby, now you’re one of us.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And they would be right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms, stepmoms, grandmoms, and mother figures. I see you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now back to the dishes and waking up a toddler to keep her on a decent bedtime routine. \ud83d\udda4<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’ve started this week’s post three different times now. I had a grand idea for a Mother’s Day post. Sweet, chaotic, a bit funny. Then I had a post ready about hormones and perimenopause. I had the Reel all made. But the truth is writing it the week before my period is probably not the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-466","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life-lately"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/466","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=466"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/466\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":467,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/466\/revisions\/467"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=466"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=466"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=466"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}