Righteous Anger: How COVID Effed With My Growth Mindset

I spent the last decade fully bought into the self development world and dabbling in spirituality, mindfulness, and now neuroscience. I am the one with the growth mindset, the perspective, the flowery words and the lilting, leading tone to make you believe in something within as well as something bigger than you. I still believe it. Ish.

“Pandemic,” as my friends are now referring to it, has added an edge to my grace, a darkness to my dry humor, and heart palpitations for added measure. This was the year my startup was to find investors. The year my weird little blended family was going to click into place. This was the year that all the manifesting I did was going to bloom and show itself.

Instead I write this in the robe I slept in and next to an unlit Christmas tree I put up way too early in the hopes I could usher in the spirit of joy. My toxic positivity was going to save us with peppermint-spiked everything and The Grinch and Home Alone on repeat. I jingle jangled all over the living room almost exactly a week before my boyfriend’s daughter showed her first mild signs of COVID. By the time my boyfriend was knocked out on the couch, feverish and covered with a blanket like Jesus in the shroud of Turin, I knew we were in trouble.

We did the things we were supposed to do. We separated everyone, notified the exes and anyone we could’ve exposed. Everyone got tested. Up the nose, tears, with pleading, “I’m so scared,” squeezed hands and the RN’s sigh, “I really hate testing children.” She stopped for a moment and locked eyes with me over Liv’s sobs. It was a glimpse of her exhaustion, her humanity and a defeated moment where we both nodded, understanding what wasn’t being said.

The positives, as I’ve now lovingly named them, are isolated upstairs with all the devices, arts & crafts, Chloroseptic, pain relievers, and fluids their little hearts could desire. In rapid succession our co-parents have made care package deliveries for both children because we are the modern #coparentinginapandemicgoals family. All the women in this village agree we like each other more than the men most of the time and that we really should have our own reality show.

My daughter and I – the negatives – wait. For what, we haven’t figured out yet. Are we waiting for the first signs of illness, the health of our loved ones, the aliens that would not even be outlandish for 2020 at this point?

When we are not waiting I deliver meals and meds to closed doors and clean like I alone will uncover the physical veil between us and the matrix. My daughter has named my delivery service, “Momazon,” and my house is run like a Navy Destroyer ship. She is currently creating a comic book (from the art supplies dad just dropped off) where COVarty, the villain, is being beaten by the hero of this story, “Momazon,” complete with the robe, “that hair” as she refers to it, and fluffy Cheetah slippers.

There are roll call texts in the morning, instructions for movement, bathing, laundry, trash pick up, lunch, snack and dinner Momazon deliveries, and lots and lots of FaceTime calls. Some between my boyfriend and I as we confirm symptoms and discuss what he will eat with a throat on fire. The evening FaceTime call has taken place of our family evening prayers.

There are days when it is really funny. When my boyfriend peeks his head out of his lair, fully masked, and says, “I am an independent man. You don’t control me. I do what I want. I go where I want to go,” and then turns and retreats to where I’ve banished him to cough and sputter until he gets his next charge of energy.

There are days when it is really hard. When trying to serve, care for and keep myself and my daughter healthy feels overwhelming. When the positives really want to move and the boredom and malaise makes them mopey. When I have to tell a ten year old child she has to stay isolated even though she feels much better than she did when this unholy disease found its way into our lives. When I just want to find a time machine or know the ending to this particular story.

A very close friend called, “Tell me. The real.” I laughed, “I’m mad. I have done everything to keep this God-forsaken virus out of my house and it is in here with its spikes and its bullshit infesting my home and my people and I’m fucking angry.”

He said that was a good place to be.

Optimism is great when it serves you, but this is not a space where I’m about to share lessons learned. No, I want to tell you that this is not my favorite situation. Maybe in two years we’ll have lessons learned and life will be so good we can sit within the glow of toxic positivity once again, like naive grifters selling themselves on their own grass instead of the green on the other side. Maybe we won’t have to do that because we’ll have seen both sides and we’ll land in the middle, fully embodying our growth and the traits that make us survivors. Maybe “Pandemic” is what bridges us from our extremes and our need to box ourselves in and create ways to judge our very humanness.

But today?

I am riddled with anxiety and panic attacks as I hear the positives coughing. I forced my boyfriend to change the subject when he started the “handling affairs” convo and wanted to make sure I knew how to get in touch with his family. I feel bad/sorrowful/apologetic that I’m caring for two girls who deserve to be playing with their friends, hugging their other parents and siblings. I apologized to my daughter last night. I told her that I’m supposed to keep her safe. It is my biggest charge as her mom and I feel like I’ve failed her… as we wait… for what we still don’t know. She wouldn’t accept my apology. She said there was no need for it, because “you are the best mom ever.”

I don’t know what tomorrow brings.

I don’t know much of anything and that is becoming the space I now hold and hold well. Just being. Just making the next best decision. Just feeding people because it is the thing I can do. It is the only thing I can control. The kitchen and my iPhone have become my command deck and I promise you everyone feels safer, calmer and more at ease because I act like I know what I’m doing and I’m really good at telling people what to do. #momlife

Right this second I know that I made the breakfast Momazon deliveries and everyone is comfortable.

I know that I will serve pineapple as a lunchtime side for two of the people in the house, because the third only likes things that are “4% sour.” She’ll get strawberries.

I know that I am a really good mom.

I know that I lucked out in the co-parent lottery with an entire group of people across multiple homes who all act like we share DNA.

I know there are no certainties, and that this storyline has been far worse for so many other people. I know that I “should” sit in gratitude for all we have and yea, yea, yea, I promise we’re doing that too.

I also know that this is real, there are no answers or magic 8 balls, control freaks are losing their shit, and maybe that is the lesson we weren’t ready for in 2020.

My dear friend, who agreed that my anger was righteous, asked me what I saw on the other side of this situation, and for us in particular. I immediately saw an image of small green shoots, new growth, new perspectives. I’m holding on to that image. It may not be profound, but it is hopeful, and we could all use a little hope right now. Even if it is the size of a fledgling sprout.

Please stay safe out there. You have no idea how one small decision you make for your own comfort could affect an entire family or community. This. Is. Not. Fun. Nor do I want it for your family.

Now, how do I start a Gofundme for the vacation to Hawaii when this is all over…..

Originally posted at loveisviral.com

Gold with Jeanette Schneider Episode 44: Becoming Mom with Amanda Herlihy

Amanda Herlihy spent nearly a decade in finance, but after the financial crisis, began to feel a pull in a completely different direction. She put herself through night school and began moonlighting as a massage therapist. Though she’d laid the groundwork for a massive shift, it was a single day when she was both laid off and found out she was pregnant with her first child that her path was forever altered.

Amanda spent the following six years immersed in the birth world. From carrying and birthing her own three children, to supporting other women and families as a birth doula, and body and energy worker. She now empowers others to seek alignment with their soul’s purpose by illustrating the power of asking the right questions and deconstructing beliefs and paradigms which no longer serve this new alignment.  She is walking this path right along with those she serves, this is why she calls herself a “ReBirth Ally.”

Amanda Herlihy is the creator and host of the podcast “Freedom Journey” on Apple and Spotify, and most recently the host and creator of the virtual summit entitled “The ReBirth Of Women: Together We Rise” which spans the varying aspects of the transformations women often face throughout motherhood.

Amanda lives in Chicago, IL with her devoted partner Josh and their three beautiful children. 

Today Amanda and I talk about Motherhood and the reasons why it can shake us to our core, how children are mirrors, and why they have such a profound ability to ask the right questions that cause us to really disassemble our belief structures.  We also discuss what it’s been like jumping into something totally new as she reacquaints herself with her gifts.  

Let’s dig in. 

Thank you for joining me today! I love Amanda’s journey to a path of soul and purpose. She was truly inspired by listening to her own internal call to heal, and then transitioned to the role of supporting women as they become mothers. I appreciate her reminder for us to fill our cup first, so we can serve others. 

Connect with Amanda

Podcast: Freedom Journey

Instagram: @amanda.herlihy

Facebook: @Amanda M Herlihy

As always, please subscribe to this podcast, leave a review and don’t forget to share with your friends. I’m always interested in content that uplifts, so if you have things you’d like to hear about, please share them with me in the comments. You can also find me on Instagram @ms.jeanetteschneider or Twitter @msjwrites.

Today Gold is brought to you by LIV Media and I couldn’t be more thrilled. 

LIV is an app that will launch Christmas 2019. I have partnered with a team previously of Disney/Pixar who wants so deeply to use tech for good.. and we’re using tech for great. 

Through mindfulness and accountability offerings – including meditation, breath work, intentional living routines, challenges, and lifestyle coaching – LIV will provide you with the tools, community and support you need to live your very best life, leveling up in every aspect. 

LIV meets you where you are and grows with you.

I have a special VIP experience built out and planned for my Gold listeners. You guys have been on this journey with me so I can’t wait to introduce you to my baby. Don’t forget – Gold listeners will receive a free 30 day VIP experience. That means access to all of the bells and whistles by using code GOLDVIP at loveisviral.com. Join the movement.

Until next time – in the words of my grandma, “Love each other every day.”

In your ears, filling your heart.


My Dearest Livi Rabbit on Your Sixth Birthday



My Dearest Livi Rabbit:

Yesterday you turned six and my heart hurt a little. In that bittersweet mom way that includes memories and pride. In that way that makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and tell you that I’ve got this, you don’t have to grow up any more, I’ll take it from here. You’ve already told me that’s not possible and I love the way you are so logical and so funny at the same time. You have the best sense of humor and dear God, girl, sense of self. I won’t have to worry about you in life. You know who you are and I promise that I will always honor that about you.

I love watching the new facets of your personality shine forth. I giggled inside when you hit the Emergency Stop button on the escalator at Dillards and then pretended you didn’t know who did it when the alarm went off. You slid your little hand in mine, your co-conspirator, eyes straight ahead as you trusted me to get you safely away without telling on you, “I won’t do that again.” I love that you trust me and oh how I hope that when you are hitting life’s Emergency buttons in the future you will trust that I’m still a soft place to land.

When you downloaded over $300 worth of Apple apps I shook my head. You very responsibly helped with chores around the house until we “paid off” your debt. Your heart hurts that I hide my passcode from your sneaky little eyes now, but we had a gorgeous conversation about responsibility and I saw how conscientious you are through and through.

I love what a big heart you have and I have adored watching you become a big sister to your dad’s new baby. Your voice becomes very soft and nurturing when you talk to him. You have a maternal quality about you and he is very lucky to have you. You will be the most important influence in his life and I know this because I know you. You leave little pieces of yourself with everyone you touch.

The other night you crawled into bed with me because your growing pains were keeping you up. You snuggled your head into my neck and told me I smelled like lavender before your breathing slowed and you fell asleep. I felt a tear slide down my cheek as I remember a very specific night in your nursery when you were only a few months old. I had just slathered lavender lotion on you, fed you a bottle and swaddled you. You dug your little upturned nose into my neck and made the same little sweet sounds as you breathed deeply at first and then fell asleep. I know these moments will be fewer and farther between, but I will always be here to comfort you, lavender or not.

As I told you the morning you were born – I will always choose you. I will always be here to advocate for you, hold you, help you, be your biggest cheerleader and safety net. I will try to do it in a thoughtful way so that you are wise and prepared when you experience the bad things we all have to in order to grow. When those lessons and heartbreaks come your way, I will be there with bandaids, snacks, be it Goldfish or wine, and a soul’s worth of support. You will never doubt that you can slide your little hand in mine.

You, my love, are so bright. You have the world awaiting you and I adore your strength, your voice, your inquisitive nature. You have pure light running through your veins. I am truly honored to be your mother. Thank you for picking me.

Love you to the moon and back, bigger than the Universe, deeper than the Ocean and more than chocolate or shoes,







Parenting Today’s Teen

I received an email last week from my lovely writer friend, Kim Derting. She asked if I’d be interested in publishing the below article on raising teens on LORE. I emailed her back immediately, “I want it!”

I wanted it for a lot of reasons, but one of them has to do with a woman that lives across the country from Kim. While Kim is thoughtfully answering questions from her teen daughter regarding her relationships with her gay friends, my childhood friend raised a gay teen as an incredibly conscientious and thoughtful parent. Our notions of sexuality and parenting and our own experiences as teens are no longer enough to guide a child who is being raised in a generation where sexuality is much more openly expressed and teens are gender fluid.

While many parents of gay teen girls allow them to spend time together alone since teen pregnancy is out, my childhood friend staunchly refused to allow her daughter alone time or sleepovers with other gay or bi girls, “Straight, gay or still figuring it out, children don’t have the emotional strength needed to deal with sexual relationships.”

Conversely, I asked if her daughter was allowed to be alone with boys and she shared something I never expected, “Unfortunately, a lot of teenage boys view teenage lesbians as girls who just ‘haven’t had the right boyfriend yet.’ She had some scary encounters with high school boys.”

The one thing both moms have in common and in spades?

The trust of their daughters and their mama lion like protective instincts.

I love that I somehow bridged a subject that is on the minds of two moms I adore who are both approaching the subject from a different vantage point, across the country from one another, with open hearts.

I’m so excited to introduce my friend, Kim Derting, and thank her again for sharing her writerly gifts, thoughtful insights and opening up dialogue between moms.

Read on…


The other day my daughter asked if her gay-friend-Rob (so totally not his real name) could stay the night.

My answer: No.

To be fair, no is my kneejerk response to just about everything.

Can I have twenty bucks? No.

Can you drive my friends and me to the city tomorrow? No.

Can I get a pony? No.

Usually, after my initial no, I take a second to think about it. Sometimes I stick to that no and sometimes I don’t…you know, because that whole kneejerk thing. (She got the pony, in case you were wondering.)

So after she asked about her gay friend staying the night and got my kneejerk response, she came back with her standard, “Why not?” To which I (maturely) responded, “Because I said so.”

I could have ended the whole conversation there. “Because I said so” is an answer. I’m the grown up and she’s the kid. End of story.

Except, for some reason that answer didn’t sit right with me. Why had I said so, I mean, really? We’d had a similar conversation a few months back, not about a boy, but when we’d talked about another friend of hers, a girl who’d recently come out. We talked then, about how if she were a lesbian I probably wouldn’t want her girlfriend staying the night, and she looked at me in a puzzled way and asked her typical, “Why not?”

“You know…” I answered.

When she gave me a look that made it clear I was going to have to spell it out for her, I finally admitted, “Be-cause. I wouldn’t want the two of you messing around.”

She made a face at me…because I’m her mom and all. And then she considered what I was saying and said, “Yeah. I guess so. But we can still have sleepovers, right?”

“Of course. Right up until I find out the two of you are dating.”

That’s when I got the eye roll. She was fourteen at the time, and fourteen-year-olds excel at eye rolls.

But, here’s the thing, when I was growing up I didn’t have any gay friends…at least none that I knew of, so these conversations didn’t happen in my house. I’m more than happy to have them now though. I’m Glad my daughter lives in a different world, comfortable with peoples’ sexual identities and able to ask me whether her gay friend can stay the night.

My answer is still no…for the time being.

But, she deserved an explanation beyond just “because I said so.” It has nothing at all to do with Rob’s (still not his real name) sexuality, or even that I think there’s anything wrong with letting him sleepover. It’s simply because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and I’m just not ready for that.

I’m not ready for my daughter to be in the world of coed locker rooms or restrooms either. In light of the North Carolina debacle, I should elaborate: I’m not talking about gender neutral accommodations, or that I don’t want trans or gender fluid individuals permitted to share facilities with my kid. What I mean is, is I’m not comfortable with her showering with the football team or having to pee with the rest of the boys at her high school. Not yet, and probably not ever. It’s as simple as that.

In a year or two, my whole sleepover answer might be different, but now she has me thinking. If her friend were trans, would my answer have been different?

Probably. I think so.

Then, at least, the matter would have gone to a vote, because as much as I’d like to think I’m running a dictatorship here, my husband still has some say. I hope he would be as thoughtful as I’ve tried to be, and not give a knee-jerk, back-in-my-day kind of response.

I’m pretty sure he would.

Regardless of the answer I gave my daughter, I’m glad she brought this up. I’m crazy proud of her for her open-mindedness and her huge heart. This world we’re living in is evolving. It’s better because our kids are better. And whether you agree with my decision or not, I hope it at least has you thinking about your answer, your thoughtfulness, your heart.

I hope you’re talking. I hope your kids are talking.

I hope we can all evolve together.

Kimberly Derting is the author of the award-winning THE BODY FINDER series, THE PLEDGE trilogy, and THE TAKING and THE REPLACED (the first two books in THE TAKING trilogy).

Her books have been translated into 15 languages, and both THE BODY FINDER and THE PLEDGE were YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults selections.

She lives in the Pacific Northwest, where the gloomy weather is ideal for writing anything dark and creepy. You can find her online at www.kimberlyderting.com.

Co-Parenting: Loving The Women Who Love Your Child

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I blogged anonymously as Little Ms. J for several years. Although I had a nice little following and over 250 articles I decided to take down the site a little over two years ago. It just didn’t feel right.

When  I wrote as Little Ms. J I was a married woman who was coming into her career and wanted very badly to have a baby. I wrote about my fun adventures with my hot husband and our parenting aspirations. I needed to get my time in as a dancing tartlet in high heels with a handsome man by my side before burp rags and cellulite made their appearance. I was sassy, snarky and bold. I was also very naive.

Then I had the baby, I came into my career and got divorced.

The storyline as I knew it ended and I had to figure out how to rewrite the me I knew. So, I dug into who that person was, came up for air and as I started LORE I thought, “Oh, I’ll just go back every now and then and grab an old post off Little Ms. J as a “Throwback,” something fun.

Every single time I’ve gone through the posts I’ve come up short.

I don’t know that girl anymore.

I wince a little in the memories. I smile at others. I look at the precious child I waxed and waned over, both the planning and the pregnancy, and the mom I’ve grown into shakes her head, I was such a baby trying to have a baby. I was such a girl-child trying to be a wife.

As I was looking through posts today I smiled at a few. My then-husband pulled me along to every sort of outdoor sporting event he possibly could while I looked adorable in my tennis skirts and twirled around, “Check out my legs. I look hot. Seriously, how do you hold this racket?”

He laughed at me. A lot. He said things like, “Oh, Little,” which was how “Little Ms. J” came about. I was little. He was big. It worked.

I golfed, I played tennis, I joined a volleyball team, I scaled indoor rock walls, I became SCUBA certified.

I kind of hated it.

Not all of it. Just most of it. I had the harnesses, rock climbing shoes, gear, clubs, fins, you name it, but I’m an introverted type of fit girl. I really don’t want to talk to anyone while I play my sports. I’ll go on a yoga retreat, I’ll listen to my “Damn, Girl” playlist while I do circuit training, gym rat style. I’ll play pickup on a golf range and be blissed out. I will absolutely go diving with you (if the water is warm), but the moment we have to keep a tab, score or compete I am thoroughly annoyed, this is not Zen!

But, I did it all because I was in love and I thought this is what you did. You put on the really adorable gear and showed up with your insanely muscular legs as you flexed them in various positions to annoy your mother in law, is this how you address the ball? I love this skirt. Wicking, huh? Flex. Flex.

I dropped Liv off at her dad’s house recently and took note of the His and Hers tennis rackets on the floor. Girlfriend was likely going to play with Ex’s mom, a former State tennis champion, when they visited her in Tucson that weekend. I laughed inside, his mom is thrilled. I remembered her exasperation, “You have no coordination. I can’t help you,” when she tried to lob a few balls at me years before. I honestly think she’d have rather lobbed rackets at me.

That’s when I’d turn and spin, “No, but seriously. Have you seen my legs?”

Ex laughed. Mom rolled her eyes, “She has no sport!”

He argued that I went to the gym a lot. She sighed and shook her head. At the time I thought these interactions were funny. I just wasn’t like them. I can look back now and see how mismatched I was for him and for them.

They liked to compete in wicking fabrics. I did not.

I text the girlfriend the other day to tell her I was going to be late dropping Liv to them. She was playing tennis.

Today she text back that she was at beach volleyball, but she’d let dad know whatever I was updating her about, thanks!

Yesterday we text back and forth about my daughter’s diet and the search for the perfect smoothie to hide vitamins and nutrients in since she’d rather live on gummy bears and macaroni and cheese.

I smiled, knowing inside that he very well may have found his soulmate. I told him as such. I am thrilled for him and for my daughter.

Me too, if I’m being honest.

They make far more sense than we ever did and for 7000 reasons. Not only is she sporty as hell, but they match up for reasons we never could. They have a similar sense of humor, she’s patient and most importantly, she loves my daughter. All those years I thought we were meant for each other? Well, maybe we were meant to have Liv, but past that? I realize that I was just one person in the way of someone better for him. I actually text him after meeting her, “I like her. Don’t eff it up.”

My daughter still lets me know that she’d discuss an arrangement where dad, girlfriend and I could all live together in a compound sort of environment where she’d also have a trampoline, two dogs and four fish. I just have to say the word. I remind her of how much she loves dad’s girlfriend and she agrees with a sing-song sigh, “Alright. Don’t worry mom. I’ll find someone else that loves you.”

I have to laugh at her sweet, manipulative and earnest little heart.

I ran into Girlfriend after a hot yoga class a few weeks ago. She wanted to make sure Liv was ok with her moving in to their house and I shared that she was, “She loves you.” Liv once told me that she wanted a mom at dad’s house and I told her the story explaining that she just loves being around feminine energy so it makes sense that she’s more settled with the living arrangements. Girlfriend very quickly sided with me, “You are always the mom!” I smiled, appreciative for the unnecessary gesture, “The best thing that could happen for Liv is to be surrounded by women who love her. She will be the most well-adjusted woman.”

Girlfriend looked a little surprised and, in response, I couldn’t help but think about Liv’s earlier offer.

I certainly do hope that when she makes good on her promise to find the guy who loves me he will also come with a really cool Ex.

Like me.

Flex flex.




A Letter To My Daughter by Sara Lindberg


I recently stumbled across the article The World Our Girls Live In posted on Role Reboot and immediately reached out to the writer, Sara Lindberg, this is good stuff. Sara gracefully connected the worry that sits within a mom as we watch our daughters play, bellies still baby-rotund, boogies be damned, knowing she soon will look down at her pre-teen thighs and think they’re fat.

Sara has already written a love letter to her daughter, which was most recently posted on Scary Mommy, and gave us permission to repost it. I have a feeling we’re going to see some great content from this new friend.

She gets girls. She gets moms. She’s a woman.

The trifecta.

What more could we ask for?

Please join me in welcoming Sara Lindberg.

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The house is quiet while I write this. It reminds me of eight years ago when I was trying desperately to control my breathing, working on everything I learned in class, staying calm and focused.

Things were so different then. I was different. Looking back now, I’m not so sure I really liked who I was or the journey I was on. I wasn’t ready. It was three weeks too soon. I should have known in that moment, that you would always do things on your terms. You live by your word. You are independent, brave and tough.

When you finally came, I discovered that you were also sweet, lovely and wonderful. You were everything I hoped you would be.

Over the years, you have taught me more about life than I could have ever imagined.

1. Your patience, compassion, empathy and kindness have taught me how to be a mom. You are teaching me how to be a better human being.

2. You stand by me even when I am making colossal mistakes. You always look at me with kindness and understanding. No matter how many mistakes I make, you always love me.

3. You have taught me about forgiveness and selflessness. You handle setbacks and disappointments with grace—a grace that was not passed down from me. This is something you have developed on your own, a true depiction of your character.

4. Your intelligence and beauty do not define you. Your heart does. You have an endless ability to give and an even greater gift of acceptance. I watch you do that. I watch you extend your hand when no one else will. I hear the kind words you speak that seem to always ease the pain of others.

5. Your quiet nature gives you a unique presence. People respect and listen to you when you have something to say. You have developed an ability to speak words that need to be heard.

6. You love your brother with a sense of devotion and passion that is rarely seen in siblings. I continue to learn so much about unconditional love from watching you with him. You have helped shape his beautiful character. Your actions are the reason he has so much tenderness and love in his heart.

7. I truly admire the love you have for your dad. It reminds me of how I was with my dad. It makes me so happy to watch your relationship with him grow stronger every day. I feel a sense of comfort knowing that the bond you are creating with your dad is unbreakable. He will always be the most important man in your life.

8. Thank you for loving me when I am not very lovable. In those moments when I am less than kind, you always tell me, “I love you, Mom, no matter what.”

9. You have taught me about humility. Your continued ability to put others first is demonstrated in every intentional step you take—every act of kindness you display.

I love you in so many ways. I can’t ever imagine my life without you. There is so much I want to tell you, but for today, I will just stick with “thank you.”

You have truly changed my life and continue to inspire me to be a better version of myself. I am forever grateful and so thankful that I have been given this amazing opportunity to be your mom.

Originally posted on Scary Mommy

Sara Lindberg is a 41-year old wife, mother and full-time secondary school counselor. Combining her 20 plus years experience in the fitness and counseling fields, she has found her passion for inspiring women to be the best version of themselves. She she is not running, working with teenagers or driving her own kids crazy, she manages a Facebook page called Fitmom. She has a B.S. in Exercise Science and a M.ED. in Counseling. Her inspiration for writing comes from her 6 year old son Cooper, and her 8 year old daughter, Hanna.

You can follow Sara on Facebook at Fitmom and on Twitter @fitmomway.