Oh, Baby, It's Cold Outside: Reflections From a Mom on the Move

Four winters into life in Anchorage, and let me tell you—it hasn’t gotten any warmer. I keep thinking that one day I’ll be that tough Alaskan who wears flip-flops in the snow, but nope... not there yet. And honestly? That’s okay.

What has changed, though, is how I’ve started to experience these seasons—both the literal ones outside my window and the emotional ones happening inside me.

One of my favorite signs that winter has fully arrived is the return of the ravens. This year, they’ve been particularly noisy on my back deck, and I like to imagine they’re quoting Poe—“Nevermore”—because it adds a little magic to the monotony. My daughter thinks I’m telling her bedtime stories with live props, and I’m okay with that too. It’s these small, surreal moments that help anchor me.

The moose migration, the quiet strength of a lone wolf, the crisp silence of snow—it all reminds me how wild and unpredictable life can be. And this year, it really has been.

I became a single mom.

That sentence still catches me off guard sometimes. It’s big. It’s real. And it’s reshaping every part of my life. I love being “Mom,” and I wouldn’t trade these two incredible little people for anything—but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t overwhelming some days.

We managed a trip back to Texas over the summer, which brought some much-needed sunshine, family time, and a rare chance for me to just be...me. I even got a weekend away with friends—something I hadn’t done in years. I realized during that short trip how important it is to carve out space for rest and connection, even when life feels too full for either.

My daughter is now three. Sweet, shy, creative—she loses herself in art projects and dances her little heart out in tap and ballet. A recent diagnosis of multiple food allergies has changed the way we live and eat, but the reward? She’s finally sleeping through the night for the first time in years. For me, that has meant quiet evenings, less worry, and a bit more room to breathe.

My son turned one. He’s my sunshine in the middle of all this Alaska snow. His laughter, his joy, his 12-hour stretches of sleep (yes, really!) are a daily reminder that not every chapter of motherhood is hard—some are light, funny, and unexpectedly easy. Of course, getting him to eat real food is a challenge all its own, but we’re working on it.

As for me? I’m still learning how to show up for myself the way I show up for everyone else. I started dancing again—tap, for the first time since high school. I took up Pilates. I gave myself permission to travel. I’m figuring out what it means to heal and grow while being a mother, not just after.

Motherhood is messy, beautiful, exhausting, and endlessly evolving. And if you’re in the thick of it right now—feeling the weight of every tiny decision, every packed lunch, every moment you feel like you should be doing more—I want you to know you’re not alone.

If you’ve found yourself navigating big changes—single parenthood, burnout, emotional overwhelm—I see you. There is strength in your story. There is power in pausing. And there is healing in asking for help.

You deserve support that holds space for all of who you are: the mom, the woman, the human being figuring it out one day at a time.

Warm blankets, warm hearts, and warm coffee—let’s hold onto all three this season. You’ve got this. And if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.