Finding Mom

🛑 👉🏻👉🏻👉🏻 INFORMATION AVAILABLE CLICK HERE👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻

Get free printables in your inbox! I want mine!
Daily Freebies, Free Samples & Bargains Online
I’m Kelli, the owner of Freebie Finding Mom, and I’m SO glad you are here! I’m from Ohio but currently living in Maryland with my husband and little goofball son. I love to help people save money, make pretty printables, and share recipes and DIY ideas that will make your life easier!
Our printables, recipes, DIY ideas, and money saving tips receive over several million views per year! We love sharing new ideas with you and enjoy hearing your suggestions!
The Ultimate Cleaning Checklist Bundle (29 Pages)
Snag over 400 free printables today!
+ Get New Printables In Your Inbox Every Week!
Here you’ll find the latest printables including printable bubble letters (upper and lowercase bubble letters), templates like my play money template, and more. 
Here are some popular favorites on FreebieFindingMom.com including recipes like cheap meals for large families and gluten free licorice and savings opportunities like the Kroger free Friday download!
Want Our Best Printables for Free?
join our facebook group
Join us to snag new printables every week!
visit our other site mason jar breakfast
Get organized with our fun printables!

“Healthy separation.” I spent the better part of my decade-long career in residential summer camping touting the importance of a healthy separation for children and parents. When kids have a chance to exercise their muscle of independence, they learn their limits, their capabilities, and their resiliency. During phone calls with nervous parents, I’d often tell them that sending their child away to summer camp was as much a growing experience for them as it would be for their children and that being apart is a learned behavior that takes trust, practice, and reassurance that a reunion is inevitable.
As parents, we spend much of our time building that “independence muscle”. From the first time we leave our children with another family member or babysitter to the first time we leave them at daycare, school, a playdate, a sports practice, or camp, we lengthen the tether just a bit more. For years, ever time I left my kids with anyone else, I always told them “Mommy always comes back.” I said it through a tearful goodbye at my very first daycare drop off ten years ago and it stuck. I’ve said it countless times. The kids can parrot it back to me without thinking. If I ask them “what does mommy alway do?” they’ll shout “Come back!” 
But over the course of this last year, that tether of independence shortened significantly. From those first “stay at home” orders to transitioning to Zoom school to navigating a new normal, our kids have gotten used to being home (and with us and each other). Today, on day 381 since they last set foot in a classroom, our kids went back to school in person and I found myself excited for them (and us!) to have some distance while silently mourning the loss of the constant togetherness this year forced upon us in one of the most beautiful silver linings ever.
Today, on our first day of in person learning after a year at home, we put healthy separation on full blast. While my 4th grader all but ran ahead of us and my 2nd grader nearly skipped with excitement, my kindergartener’s grip on my hand got tighter and tighter as we rounded the final corner to campus. By all counts, it was not the way a first day should go. There was no classroom tour, no parent meet and mingle, no gentle goodbye and careful tiptoe away. Today, we ripped off that “healthy separation bandaid” like one that’s been stuck to your skin for too long and takes an extra hard tug to get off.
With no parents allowed on campus, our girls had to get themselves to class — that alone is a simple task, yet one we would typically never enable on a “normal” first day of elementary school. As we watched the three of them walk away, the kindergartener’s steps slowed and her quiet nerves became audible sobs (from across the parking lot, no less). With no parents allowed on campus, there was nothing we could do but watch and wave, lift an encouraging “thumbs up” and will her adrenaline and bravery to overtake her anxious anticipation. And with six feet of distance required at all times, there was little her teacher could do either except offer her encouraging words. 
As I cried on my husband’s shoulder, the power of this year of togetherness came full circle. There, from across the parking lot, we watched our daughters support their baby sister. We watched our fourth grader tell her it would be okay and show her where we were standing. We watched our second grader hug her sister, dig her stuffed animal out of her tote bag, and bend down with hands on her sister’s shoulders to give her an eye-to-eye pep talk. My own anxiety and heartbreak at not being able to comfort my daughter was quickly replaced by heartwarming pride that our girls had taken care of each other. 
We’ve told our three girls often and since they were very young that their sisters are their first friends and that we expect them to take care of one another. And today, they did just that. They exercised that healthy separation muscle, together. When I picked up my youngest from school, she came running across the grassy entrance and into my arms. The first words out of her mouth were “I had a hard time at first, but then I got used to it.” There it was — case in point — our reunion combined with her resiliency, capabilities, and independence. Healthy separation. 
Psst… I had to label this post “Finding a Healthy Separation 2.0” because I’d already used the healthy separation title once in a blog post seven years ago. After all, the more things change, the more they stay the same…
I almost skipped St. Patrick’s day this year. We’re not Irish and don’t have long-standing St. Patty’s day family traditions (aside from a green beer or two in my 20s). And after a year of quarantining at home I’m really. freaking. tired. Plus, I’ve always hated a holiday that has social traditions that give others Carte Blanche to pinch you based on what you are (or more accurately aren’t) wearing. No thank you.
While we’ve set a trap or two in our living room in the past, for the most part I’ve relied on school to give the kids the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. They’d collaborate and devise traps with classmates, set them as the final bell of the school day rang and go to sleep that night with anxious anticipation to get back to school and check out what mischief the leprechaun had caused.
But on day 369 of being home, there was no classroom to check. No classmates to collaborate, and no final bell to ring. Every step of every day in the last year has been within the four walls of our house. In 2020, St. Patrick’s day was the beginning of this crazy year, or maybe more appropriately the end of “normal.” It was the first of many moments requiring a pivot, and of memories (and history) in the making. I vividly remember running to Safeway one last time last year in a panic to get Lucky Charms and any accompanying goodies I could find, acutely aware of the lingering cloud of fear all around us amid empty toilet paper shelves. I didn’t set foot in Safeway again until two weeks ago.
Just as I was about to put the nail in the coffin of leprechaun shenanigans this year, I heard my 10 year old reminding her younger sisters “we have to set a trap tonight to catch the leprechaun!” Even from the other room, I could hear the sparkle of magic and belief in her voice. And I just knew… the leprechaun had to make a visit again this year because for all my kids lost in the last 369 days of being home, there’s an equally long list of things they’ve gained, not the least of which is togetherness, resilience, and a little longer to hold onto that childhood innocence and belief.
Yesterday while they marveled at the note left by their leprechaun, the black pots (otherwise known as Target cereal bowls), and the shimmering gold necklaces with their first initial embedded on a gold medallion (thanks Amazon), I sat back and listened to their bubbling belief. “I can’t believe the leprechaun knows our names!” said my middle. “And how does he know to bring us lucky charms every year? We are so lucky!” said my oldest. “How do you know he’s a HE?” asked the youngest. And on they went, talking excitedly over breakfast.
I know our years (or maybe days) of their belief in childhood magic are numbered. So while we may not be Irish, and while I draw the line before the classic green toilet water and green footsteps across my floor, I realized that this year has given me countless blessings too, starting with remembering to slow down and infuse magic in our home whenever possible. And remembering that a bowl of Lucky Charms once a year goes a long way.
The shock is wearing off. Reality is setting in.
It’s safe to say we are all sailing in unchartered territory. Certainly in my lifetime. And my parents’ too. Life amid the coronavirus pandemic is different and dynamic, with nonstop information coming at us, and life as we know it changing by the minute. My Bay Area county (and 5 neighboring ones) is about to announce a shelter in place plan to limit our comings and goings, interactions and inevitable spread of this virus.
As I write this, and apparently temporarily resuscitate my mommy-blog that had completely fallen by the wayside, I’m listening to my three young daughters work on their first round of “homework” that I created in our new “homeschool”. To them, the STEAM lesson I planned is a small shift from their norm — instead of creating leprechaun traps in their classrooms and with their classmates, they’re forced to create it at home with their sisters as their new learning contemporaries. But to me, it’s just the beginning of my newest identity shift where I add “homeschool teacher” to the many hats I wear on a given day.
I’ve been in nonstop texting and Facebook threads with other moms, passing ideas of schedules, lessons, chore charts, and so on, back and forth, using our collective brainpower to collaborate in this era of ever-changing reality. The texts and the Facebook threads are our lifeline not only to collaboration, but to survival. Where once we could grab a glass of wine at our local Whole Foods, settle into each other’s couches for book club or to watch the Bachelor, or take the kids for an impromptu playdate at the park, we are now within the confines of our own homes. Collaboration, humor and discourse are our virtual escape.
It’s this blurred reality that reminds me that my job, first and foremost, is to protect my children and help them make sense of the world. How my husband and I respond to the pandemic — the words we choose, the way we speak to each other and to friends and family on the phone, the attitude we carry — will have a direct impact on our children for years to follow. Whereas my parents’ generation still recalls where they were when JFK was shot, and my peers and I share stories of 9/11 and the days and weeks that followed, our children will talk about this. The pandemic. The shelter in place. They’ll ask each other what their experience was like, how they felt, what they remember.
People we know will likely become diagnosed with coronavirus… assuming testing is possible. It’s inevitable. And from what I’m reading, things could get worse before they get better. We are on information overload and things seem to be changing by the day. And so, while I sit at my dining table making color-coded schedules, scouring the internet for lesson plans, bookmarking online yoga classes, and preparing science experiments to continue exercising my daughters’ brains and bodies, I realize that my responsibility is even more-so to help them come out of this on the other side with a grounded sense of reality (somewhere between hysteria and denial) and to instill in them resilience, compassion and a burning desire to do their part to make a difference.
So when I put on that “homeschool teacher” hat each morning, I’ll remind myself of the bigger picture, too, and give myself some leeway to learn alongside my kids, to make mistakes, to know that some days will go better than others, and strive to be a positive role model for them amid pandemic-life. No, I’m not formally trained to teach long division (nor do I really remember it!); I’m not versed in strategies to help them move through the designated reading levels their classes follow. I’m now their homeschool teacher and I’ll certainly do my best. But, the first hat I wear is their mom, and I’ll do everything in my power to teach them, protect them, shelter them, guide them, and love them through each day ahead.
Yes, we are in a new “homeschool” situation, which is coupled with a double “work from home” environment between myself and my husband. Yes, they’ll complete math and reading lessons daily, practice their piano, engage in PE, and work on the virtual projects coming at us from their teachers, but we’ll also bake, watch movies, play games, have dance parties, organize closets, snuggle, and laugh. We’ll draw pictures and mail them to nursing homes where residents aren’t allowed to have visitors. We’ll FaceTime with friends and family. We’ll write letters and mail them to friends. We’ll learn new skills and take on new responsibilities.
Because when we come out on the other side of this, I want my children to remember how it felt to be home, and to remember just how far the walls of our home and our hearts could stretch.
There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is suffering too terrible to name
You hold your child as tight as you can
Then try to push out the unimaginable.
– from “It’s Quiet Uptown” by Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton)
I’ve spent all day trying to find the right words, to take the feelings I’ve had since midday yesterday and turn them into coherent prose, angry expression or a well thought out blog. But the sinking feeling of “it happened again” has taken over and I can’t seem to find the words.
I’ll never forget the shock of Columbine – myself a high school junior and terrified and confused as to how something so awful could happen to my peers just a few states away. Then another and another until “school shooting” became a recognized phrase, and the numbers on the charts became statistics beyond measure. All senseless, all tragic. The stories of Sandy Hook still bring me to tears, and the terror in the live videos from Florida yesterday shook me to my core. Children. Children in a place of learning, a place where they formulate their hopes and dreams, envision their futures and spend their days traversing the innocence of childhood. Gone.
It took every fiber of my being to let go of the snuggles with my sweet girls last night and muster the strength to drop them off at school this morning. And when they got home, the strength returned in the form of a prolonged hug and a silent gratitude. Today they were safe.
Though I seem to have momentarily found these words, I’m simultaneously speechless and downright angry because this continued tragedy is truly unimaginable.
Inspiration comes in the places where we least expect it. Today it was at the corner of College and Claremont in Oakland, California and inspiration’s name was Rosie. I met Rosie while waiting for a crosswalk SIGN to change to the flashing WALK, and in the moment when we both stood on the same corner today and shared a cursory smile, she took out her earbuds and commented on my umbrella. “Look at those eyes,” she said. “It’s like they’re a clear view into the world, with the strength of women like we saw on the Golden Globes last night.”
Intrigued, I agreed and told her I’d never thought of my umbrella that way. As the sign changed to signal that it was safe to cross the street, Rosie and I started talking about her life, the women’s movement of the 60s and the current one now started with the #metoo movement. She told me that in her 72 years, she’s seen a lot in this world and last night’s speeches gave her hope and inspiration for the future. As we continued walking and I told her about raising three girls in this era, she said to me “Raise them to be kind. But more so, raise them to speak up, to fight for what’s right and to charge their own path.” I told her how interesting it has been to raise kids in this political climate and the questions that have come from my kids – seemingly simplistic questions with complicated answers.
“Write,” she said. “Are you a writer? Write it down. Write a blog. Share it. Share your experience. Share your words.” Given that one of my New Year’s resolutions was to get back into my blog and reinvigorate Finding Mom-me, she hit a chord and I told her I felt like she was a resolution incarnate.
Normally I would have been looking at my phone, or listening to something on my earbuds. But today, at this particular moment, on this particular walk, on this particular corner, I wasn’t. I was looking up, through the eyes of my umbrella and in that moment I shared an invaluable walk with a complete stranger (and walked 4 blocks out of my way because I didn’t want to stop walking).
It definitely made me think and reinforced the feeling that I need to get back to my blog and find my voice in that medium again. I’ll save that for tomorrow, or some day soon. Today, I just want to enjoy the universe’s way of telling me that this particular resolution is right on track and to always be open to inspiration.
Four years ago, I wondered what the future would look like. What would come of our presidential election and the many other seats up for grabs and propositions waiting to be approved. Four years ago, I worried and anticipated, wondered and hoped. Four years ago feels like both a lifetime ago and a blip on the calendar. Today is an important day for our country, and really, for the world. The outcome of today’s election will catapult us into the next chapter of our country’s story and will make history one way or another. Today we sit in anticipation as one day, one outcome, one moment determines the landscape in front of us. Four years ago today, I sat in a similar position, poised on a similar perch. However, that one was much more personal. Four years ago today, my second daughter was born (and on her due date no less!). And so, while we all wait and wonder what the future holds for our country, I write this blog post for her.
Happy birthday, baby girl. It’s hard to believe that four years have gone by so quickly. I vividly remember waiting in anticipation of your birth and wondering when you would come… if you’d be early in time for the Giants to win the World Series (again) or as a our own little Halloween pumpkin. Then when October came and went, I wondered if you’d provide some much needed relief during the Obama vs. Romney election, or if you’d tease me and push all the way past your due date into the depth
Latex Itemize
Massage Victoria
Massage Roller
Moaning Myrtle Porn
Leather Stockings Porn
Freebie Finding Mom - Freebie Finding Mom
Finding Mom(me) | A blog for moms (and dads) trying to ...
Finding Mom by Amanda Mawhinney - Goodreads
Where Is My Mom | How Do I Find My Mom? Try This Tool
Finding Mom - YouTube
About Finding Mom(me) | Finding Mom(me)
Finding Mom Joy | Creating your calm in a world of chaos
Finding Mom