You Might Be Ready for October If…

Have you earned your unofficial degree in navigating October as a mom?

I am currently planning an extensive family trip that involves our large family arriving on different days, from different locations, with multiple flights, trains/car rentals, hotels, reservations and enough moving parts to qualify as a military operation. At this point, I feel I should be awarded an advanced degree in logistics, with a minor in international diplomacy.

But then I realized that motherhood has been preparing me for this for years. If you've raised children for any length of time, you've acquired a very particular set of skills. You know where to find free entertainment, which experiences are worth opening your purse for and how to get an entire family across town without losing your mind.

So, in honor of October, football season and the mothers who keep this city running, here are a few signs that you've officially earned your Mom degree.

You know how to entertain your family without spending a dime. You've mastered the art of free family fun. An afternoon at World's Fair Park? Absolutely. A hike at Ijams? Pack the water bottles. A stroll through Market Square? Even better when there's something happening downtown. Hit the Greenways or the duck pond and consider a backyard picnic. Many times, keeping our kids occupied doesn't need to cost more time.

You know when to splurge. You've learned that not every family outing needs to cost a fortune, but some experiences are worth the investment.

Maybe it's a day at Dollywood during the Harvest Festival, tickets to a Tennessee football game or a special outing to Zoo Knoxville. You know which experiences your family will remember long after they've forgotten what you spent.

You also know that a family of any size can turn a seemingly innocent afternoon outing into a significant financial event.

You understand that October is not for amateurs. Between football games, pumpkin patches, corn mazes, fall festivals, homecoming and Halloween, October requires its own color-coded calendar.

Like me, you've probably purchased pumpkins in 85-degree weather while wearing a sweater - purely out of principle. And you've learned that planning a Saturday family outing without first consulting the Tennessee football schedule is a rookie mistake.

You have strong opinions about Knoxville traffic. You know that "just across town" is a relative term. You know when to avoid Kingston Pike, that Turkey Creek on a Saturday afternoon requires patience and that game-day traffic is an entirely different species.

You've also developed the ability to calculate travel time based on school dismissal schedules, construction, football and whether there is a rolling roadblock on Alcoa Highway.

Your family may question your preferred route, but you know better. You've been driving these roads since before they were born.

You are a professional negotiator. Finding an activity that appeals to kids in elementary school, teenagers, and even college students plus two parents deserves its own certification. Finding a restaurant where everyone agrees on the menu? Doctorate-level work.

You've mastered the art of presenting three carefully researched options while making everyone believe they had a choice. And you've learned that sometimes the most successful family outing is ordering pizza and staying home.

You know the memories are worth the madness. Somewhere between coordinating schedules, finding parking, buying tickets and reminding everyone to bring a jacket, something wonderful happens.

You look around and realize that everyone is together, laughing and making memories. Even if someone complained about the parking, someone else was hungry and you paid entirely too much for a Coke.

Whether your children are little enough to love a pumpkin patch (don't we all still love them?) or old enough to arrive at the family vacation on separate flights, motherhood remains one big exercise in logistics.

And if you've successfully navigated an October in Knoxville with children, football, family activities and your sanity reasonably intact, congratulations! You've earned your degree in Mom Logistics.

Unfortunately, it comes with no diploma, no salary increase and absolutely no guarantee that anyone will appreciate your carefully planned itinerary.

But the memories? Those are worth every bit of it.

A Little Surprise at Just the Right Time

How a scruffy little kitten found his way into our hearts—and stayed.

We are a family of dog lovers. Solidly in camp canine, we had never once considered adding a cat to our family.

Then one summer night, my husband saw a kitten in the tall grass beside a parking lot near our home. He mentioned it casually, but as mutual animal lovers we couldn't stop thinking about that little creature out there alone. Surely his mama was nearby. Did he get dumped? Thinking about all the recent storms, we drove back to check out her situation.

She was still there—crying out and popping her little head up from the tall grass. We offered her a little dog food because that's all we had, and after a few hesitant bites, she let us pick her up and we brought her home - just for the night. Just temporarily, of course.

The next day, we went back looking for her mama or other kittens, but there were none. We couldn't leave this skinny, scruffy little girl to fend for herself, so we purchased some kitten food and a few supplies, asked around for anyone who might be ready to adopt a kitten, and waited.

Meanwhile, the kitten was busy making herself at home.

She entertained us with antics, amazed us with agility and thoroughly disrupted the lives of our older dogs. We treated her fleas, gave her a bath and took her to be fixed and get basic shots through our local shelter. 

That's when we discovered something else: Our little “Penny” wasn't a girl after all. As the kitten was growing, we began to suspect we may have gotten the gender wrong and the Young Williams crew confirmed that he was "definitely a Patches and not a Penny."  A boy kitten - Patches. Finally, a name that seemed right.

By this point, we were beginning to enjoy the kitten snuggles, the mesmerizing purr and little chirps of this sweet guy. My husband looked at me and said, “So we are keeping him, right? We have a cat now?”

And I guess we did.

Patches came into our home at an unexpected time. Our youngest had just moved into his own apartment, and our house felt a quieter and a bit empty. We were proud and excited for our son, but there was also that ache that comes with watching your children grow up and need you a little less.

And somehow, right into that tender space came a kitten we never planned to have.

Patches has brought laughter, silliness and a little bit of whimsy into our home. He has given us something to smile about every single day.

We'll never know how he ended up in that parking lot or why he cried out to my husband that particular night. But I'm so glad he did. We still aren't cat people.

But we really do like this one.

Building a Life Beyond Motherhood

I'm a summertime girl, but late summer has always felt a little bittersweet to me.

The garden is beginning to look tired. The evenings arrive just a little earlier. There is still plenty of sunshine, but if you're paying attention, you can feel the season beginning to shift.

Motherhood has seasons like that, too.

One day you're packing snacks and wiping sticky fingers. Then, almost without realizing how quickly it happened, you're helping someone move into a dorm room, watching another head off to work, or realizing your family dinner has become so much quieter than it used to be.

It's exactly what we've prayed for.

And it still makes your heart ache.

I don't think the ache means we've loved motherhood too much. I think it simply means we've loved deeply.

But I've also been wondering if these changing seasons carry an invitation.

For years, so much of my energy has been joyfully poured into raising the people God entrusted to me. I've rearranged schedules, built traditions, cheered from the sidelines, stayed up waiting for my chid to get home from a game or a shift, and demonstrated love often looks like showing up again and again.

Now, as our children begin building lives of their own, God is gently reminding me that He is still building mine. Motherhood is not ending—it never really does—but because our lives were always meant to be beautifully full in more than one direction.

Maybe this is the season to linger over coffee with a friend instead of rushing home.

To rediscover the joy of volunteering or creating something crafty.

To invest in your marriage with the same intentionality you once reserved for music lessons and football practices.

Friendships have a way of changing with the seasons. Some women knew us when our babies were in strollers. Others stood beside us in school hallways or shared blankets on chilly football nights. And perhaps God, in His kindness, has new friendships waiting—women who understand this season of letting go, of cheering from a little farther away, of discovering that He still has new things to teach us.

Our children were never meant to carry the weight of being our whole world.

They were meant to leave with confidence, knowing they were deeply loved, while looking back to see parents who are still growing, still serving, still laughing around tables filled with friends.

Late summer reminds us that every season carries both an ending and a beginning. The leaves haven't begun to change just yet, but if you pay attention, you can feel the promise of something new in the air.

Tomorrow begins TONIGHT!

"The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep." - E Joseph Cossman

It's almost 3 am and I'm concerned that I'm not getting the proper sleep for my day tomorrow. It's more than that, I know I'm not! I have long valued sleep and know that I function so much better when I get the recommended amount, but some nights just don't unfold the way I hope.

Most of the time, I'm a great sleeper as reported by my Apple watch, and so it feels frustrating when that sleep doesn't come as I wish. Spiraling thoughts, long to-do lists, concerns about life and interruptions from sleeping partners and kids all conspire against us getting the sleep we truly need.

When I sleep well, I'm more patient. More present. More emotionally resilient. More capable of handling whatever challenges the day brings. I'm a better wife, a better friend, and a better mother.

Our culture often celebrates exhaustion as evidence of commitment. We wear busyness like a badge of honor and joke about surviving on coffee. For me, the stronger choice is recognizing that our bodies were designed with a built-in need for sleep and going without damages us in ways we are only beginning to understand.

I've been reading Why We Sleep by Matthew Walker, PhD and it has only reinforced what I've learned in my own life along the way. Now more than ever, I'm motivated to prioritize sleep for the healthy and longevity benefits, along with mood and basic functionality. And I'm especially aware of how my kids can benefit from the mental and emotional repair work done while sleeping. Sleep is one of the major legs of health on which we stand in this life - right up there with exercise and nutrition.

The research is clear: sleep affects nearly every system in our bodies. It impacts memory, learning, emotional regulation, immune function, metabolism, creativity, decision-making, and even life expectancy.

In other words, sleep isn't simply rest. It's active restoration. Sleep is the superpower we have available, but all-too-often ignore.

As parents, we spend countless hours thinking about what our children eat, what activities they're involved in, how they're performing in school, and whether they're developing the skills they'll need for adulthood. Yet many of us allow sleep to become negotiable.

Tonight, one of the most powerful things we can do for our kids—and ourselves—might be surprisingly simple: Go to bed. My projects can wait. There will always be another deadline. The laundry will still be there. My mind is craving downtime. Tomorrow will come soon enough.

Grad Gifts for Every Age - Because this year, it's personal!

Every year, graduation season rolls around and I find myself asking the same question as everyone else…What do I get them?

But this year, it feels a little different.

Because I’m not just showing up to someone else’s graduation party—I’m standing in my own kitchen, looking at my senior, wondering how we got here so fast.

One minute he was asking for snacks and rides, and the now he is stepping into a life he has created for his future.

And somehow… a gift is supposed to hold all of that?

The pride.
The memories.
The letting go.
The quiet hope for who they’re becoming.

If I’m being honest, I’ve always tried to strike that balance between meaningful and actually exciting. Over the years, we’ve done a little bit of both in our family.

There were the gold hoops for one daughter—simple, classic, something she’ll wear long after this season passes.
A string of pearls for our college grad—timeless and a little sentimental, the kind of piece that quietly says you’ve stepped into something new.
And yes… one year, a puppy was the grad gift. (Very loved. Very memorable. Not something I broadly recommend unless directly requested from the grad.)

And now, this year, for my son—it’s a new iPhone. Because apparently, tech still wins when it comes to teenage boys. We’ve made a deal: I’ll cover it for four years. After that? It’s on him.

Part gift, part life lesson, which feels about right for this season.

Because graduation gifts, at their best, aren’t just things. They’re little markers.
A way of saying I see who you are… and I believe in where you’re going.

And whether you’re shopping for your own child or someone else’s, I’ve found the best gifts usually fall into a few categories: meaningful, practical, fun, and my favorite are the ones they don’t even realize they’ll need yet.

So here’s a list, in case your mind is blown away by the May calendar and all the other decisions needing to be made:

Preschool Graduation (yes, it counts—and it’s adorable)
- Gift Card for “You Did It!” Experience
Ice cream date, donuts before school, letting them pick dinner—this age remembers moments, not things.

- A Memory Book or Journal Printed
Something simple where you write who they are right now—their favorite snack, what they say when they’re tired, the way they mispronounce words. Print one that includes photos and handprints.
(You’ll cry when you read it later. Just a heads up.)

Elementary School Graduation
- A Wallet/Purse with Actual Cash
Tell them what you see in them right now—kindness, bravery, curiosity. This is the age where those words start to stick. Then demonstrate your trust and confidence by giving them the choice to spend $25 however they choose!

- A “Big Kid” Backpack or Watch
Something that quietly says, you’re growing up. Not flashy—just meaningful enough that they feel it.

Middle School Graduation (We are all so glad to be done)
- A Journal or Devotional
A space to process feelings, questions, friendships—all the things that get a little more complicated here.

- A “Just Us” Day
Shopping date, lunch, coffee—whatever makes them feel seen. Middle schoolers won’t always say it, but they need that time. For girls a mani/pedi and for guys a hike might be great ideas.

🎓 High School Graduation (This is the big one, right?)
- Tech or Tools for Their Next Step
In our house this year… it’s an iPhone. Because apparently, that still wins.
But beyond that—laptops, headphones, or anything that helps them step into independence.

- A Faith-Filled Gift They’ll Carry With Them
A Bible, devotional, or something that anchors them when everything else feels new. Because when they leave your house, you want them to take more than just their stuff—you want them rooted.

- Life Starter Kit
Laundry supplies, basic tools, first-apartment essentials and be sure to include a gift card for gas or groceries. Many girls love it when it's monogrammed, the guys not so much. Not glamorous… but incredibly loved about three weeks into real life.

College Graduation
- Luggage or Travel Gear
Whether it’s for a new job, moving cities, or finally taking that trip—this is the season they start going. Quality luggage is one of those gifts they’ll use for years.

- A Classic Piece of Jewelry or Keepsake
This is where those gold hoops… the pearls… the meaningful pieces come in.
Something that marks the moment in a quiet, lasting way.

- A Gift That Fits Them
And yes… sometimes that looks like a puppy.
(Again—not broadly recommended unless you’re ready for the commitment.)
But when it truly matches who they are? It becomes part of their story. This could be new personalized stationary, tools needed for grad school, or whatever the next step. I personally adored when I was gifted a couture bag to carry my work gear.

The gifts will change with every stage—bigger, more practical, maybe even a little more expensive—but what matters most never really does. It’s you. Your steady presence. Your pride. Your voice cheering them on as they grow. That’s what they carry with them into every next step, whether they realize it yet or not.

My Assignment Has Shifted

I knew my assignment as mama and I didn’t take it lightly. I embraced it with my whole heart. I read the books, asked the questions, paid attention to the details. I showed up with intention, even when I felt unsure. I sacrificed, I guided, I corrected, I cheered, and I prayed so very much.

I am an all-in kind of person.

Motherhood wasn’t something I tried to survive, it has something I treasure. Even the hard parts felt like a privilege. The long nights, the hard conversations, the sacrifices, the moments of stretching and refining… it all matters because they matter.

And for a long time, I was needed for everything: Snacks. Rides. Lost shoes. Last-minute school forms. Questions I could never answer but talked through with them. I was the center of their world in all the small, ordinary, sacred ways. I understood the assignment. And I loved it.

And now…Now the assignment has changed.

My kids are all consider adults and they are truly wonderful. I genuinely enjoy them. I like being with them. I trust them. And I can see clearly—they are stepping into their lives in a way that no longer requires me at the center.

They can make their own appointments. They manage their schedules. They solve problems without immediately calling me (most of the time). They are building lives that don’t revolve around our kitchen table. This is exactly what I raised them to do.

But if I’m honest, it’s a little disorienting to feel the shift. To go from being constantly needed to… intentionally available. To move from hands-on to hands-open. I find myself learning a whole new way to be their mom.

How do I show up without hovering?
How do I stay close without overstepping?
How do I keep the door open without trying to pull them back through it?

This version of motherhood requires something different from me.

More restraint.
More trust.
More prayer than ever before.

Because I could still step in. I often know how to help. I have years of experience and a deep desire to make things easier for them.

But that’s not the assignment anymore.

Now, my role looks like listening more than speaking.
Waiting to be asked (sometimes… I’m still growing here).
Offering encouragement instead of solutions.
Reminding them who they are, not what they should do.

And trusting—really trusting—that what was planted over all those years is still growing.

There is a quiet kind of bravery in this season. In stepping back while staying deeply present. In believing that the love, the consistency, the prayers, and the everyday faithfulness took root.

This isn’t about losing our place in their lives, it’s about redefining it. We are still needed, just differently. I am still the safe place. The soft landing. The steady voice when the world feels loud. The one who believes in them without hesitation.

And maybe this is part of the beauty of it all. To watch them become exactly who they were created to be. To see the fruit of years we invested with open hands.

So here I am, learning this new assignment. Still their mom. Always mom.

Just with a little more space, a little more trust, and a whole lot of love.

The Home Stretch and Finish Line!

My “baby” finished high school last semester.

Not with a big ceremony or a last walk through crowded hallways, but quietly. His classes wrapped up, his books closed, and just like that, the rhythm of high school ended in our home. He’ll still walk in graduation ceremonies in May, but in so many ways, this season has already turned.

And now month, he just turned eighteen.

In 2026, our oldest is getting married, and our youngest is graduating high school. Somehow, all at once, I’m closing one chapter and opening another. My motherhood journey has gently, and quickly, shifted into the season of coaching young adults.

These days, my son’s life looks different than it used to. He’s working to save for college. He’s studying to improve his ACT score. He’s practicing percussion with focus as he prepares to audition for collegiate marching band. There’s a steady purpose about him lately, less little boy, more young man with a sense of purpose and direction.

It feels like the final lap of a race I’ve been running for twenty-two years.

For a long time, motherhood meant hands-on everything. Daily direction. Monitoring schedules. Checking homework. Managing rides, meals, bedtimes, and boundaries. I built worlds for my kids and invited them to live inside them, safe and structured and centered around our family rhythm.

Now the work looks different.

My kids haven’t all moved out of the house, but they have clearly built worlds beyond the ones I created for them. Their friendships, jobs, callings, schedules, and dreams stretch farther than my reach ever could. And with that comes a gentle, but absolute shift in my role.

I’m moving from hands-on mothering to hands-up cheering.
From daily directing to daily connecting.
From monitoring to guiding by invitation.

Instead of managing every step, I get to walk beside them, listen first, pray more, and speak when invited. It’s less about control and more about trust. Trusting the God who loves them even more than I do, and trusting the seeds planted along the way.

This season of motherhood has been mostly beautiful. The role changes with each child, because hearts are different.

One child thrives on affection and responds best to a whispered correction. Another needs space where too much structure feels stifling. In the same home, with the same parents, souls can need completely different approaches. And over the years, we’ve learned together how to love well.

Along the way, I’ve been too harsh sometimes.
Too lenient other times.
Too isolating.
Too inconsistent.

But in every season, I did the very best I knew how to do with what God placed in my hands at the time.

I carry a peaceful hope that love and connection will outweigh my mistakes. I want each of my kids to know I am a safe place, to fall apart, to laugh too hard, to ask hard questions, or to celebrate any accomplishment, big or small. I want them to know there isn’t only one “right” path. That God unfolds plans as we walk, not before we move. 

One of my favorite ways to talk about the future is simple:
Take a step in a direction and allow God to guide.

Scripture says, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps” (Proverbs 16:9). We don’t need the whole map, just faith for the next step.

And lately, I’ve been watching my final guy take his.

There’s something tender about this last one moving into his next season. I find myself soaking in the glow of watching him move forward with discipline, humility, determination and hope.

I will always treasure the days when their hearts were all mine, the scraped knees, bedtime prayers, carpool talks, and the sweet simplicity of small hands wrapped in mine. Those moments shaped me as much as they shaped them.

But today, I’m also content with where we’ve arrived.

I’m excited about doing life with grown kids. About travel and shared adventures. About coffee dates, cheering sections, and spontaneous plans. About supporting their dreams without carrying their backpacks. About staying connected, not because they need me to manage their lives, but because they want me in them.

As I watch my baby finish his final lap of childhood, I see clearly now, this isn’t an ending. It’s a handoff. From mothering children to walking alongside emerging adults, cheering just as loudly, praying just as fiercely, and loving just as deeply.

I've still got big moments like prom and graduation ceremony just ahead, so there are moments left to mark these final days. The race looks different now, yes. But we will always be running together!