Josie’s Honest Take on Being a Mom at 42

I was 30 when I had Isa. I remember thinking I was so ready. I had read the books, downloaded the apps, and had a hospital bag packed three weeks early. I was prepared.

And then she arrived and absolutely none of it mattered.

Twelve years later, I’m still unpacking that lesson.

The mom I thought I’d be

When I was a new mom, I had this image in my head of who I was going to be. Patient. Organized. The kind of mother who had snacks in her bag and answers to every question and never, ever raised her voice before 8am.

I was none of those things. Well — sometimes the snacks. Mostly the snacks.

But somewhere between Isa’s first steps and Luis’s first day of school and about a thousand ordinary Tuesdays in between, something shifted. I stopped trying to be the mom I had imagined and started becoming the mom my kids actually needed. Those are two very different women, and honestly? I like the second one a lot more.

What motherhood looks like at 42

Here’s what nobody really tells you about being a mom in your early 40s: it’s the best version of motherhood I’ve experienced — and also the most complicated.

I know myself better now. I know when I need a break before I hit empty. I know that a messy house on a Friday night means we had a full week, not a failed one. I know that Isa needs space when she goes quiet and Luis needs more of me when he gets loud. I’ve learned to read my kids the way you learn to read a book you’ve had on your shelf for years — slowly, carefully, and with a lot more patience than the first time around.

But I’m also more aware of time now in a way that 30-year-old me wasn’t. Isa is about to turn 13. In five years she’ll be heading toward adulthood. Luis, my youngest, my baby, is already 8 — already halfway to 16, which I refuse to think about for more than 30 seconds at a time.

I feel the weight of that. Not in a sad way. In a pay attention way.

The working mom guilt is real — but so is the joy

Louie and I are both content creators. Our lives are full in the best and most exhausting way possible. There are days when my phone doesn’t stop and my to-do list grows faster than I can cross things off, and I look up and realize I’ve been in “work mode” for six hours straight and the kids got home from school and I barely noticed.

Those days are hard to sit with.

But here’s what I’ve also learned: showing my kids a mom who works hard, who builds things, who loves what she does — that’s not something to feel guilty about. That’s something to be proud of. I want Isa to grow up knowing that women can be many things at once. I want Luis to grow up with a mom who taught him that passion and responsibility can live in the same person.

Still. On the hard days, I close the laptop earlier. I sit on the floor with Luis and his Lego. I ask Isa about her day and actually listen — not halfway, not while scrolling, but fully, with both eyes.

Those moments are the ones I’m here to collect.

How motherhood changed my identity — and gave it back

There’s a version of me before kids that I remember fondly. She was spontaneous and a little reckless and slept past 7am on weekends. I miss her sometimes, the way you miss a place you used to live.

But the woman I am now? She was built by motherhood. Shaped by two kids who challenge me and soften me and make me laugh harder than anyone else on earth. I know what I stand for now. I know what matters. I know that I can hold a lot — a career, a marriage, a household, two completely different children — and still be standing at the end of the day.

That’s not something the 30-year-old me knew yet. She was still figuring out the snacks.

Why I’m here, writing this

This blog is Louie’s idea and also mine. It came from one of those quiet late-night conversations where you say the thing you’ve been thinking for months and it finally sounds true out loud.

We wanted to slow down. To document the life we’re actually living, not just the one we post about. To have something real to hold onto when the kids are grown and the house is quiet and we’re sitting somewhere wondering where the years went.

I’m here because I don’t want to forget any of it. Not the chaos, not the cozy, not the hard parts, not the beautiful ones.

I’m here because this is the story I most want to tell.

And I’m really glad you’re reading it.

— Josie

(P.S. Louie wanted me to mention that he makes great coffee. I’m choosing to neither confirm nor deny this.)