Tamarah Rockwood

"Polyphenols in fruit, including resveratrol, increase gene expression that enhances the oxidation of dietary fats so the body won’t be overloaded. They convert white fat into beige fat which burns lipids (fats) off as heat, helping to keep the body in balance and prevent obesity and metabolic dysfunction."

The truth is, my kids are not going to grow a deeper character thanks to perfect floors. Granted, it will make life easier for me, no doubt: there are few things that make my stomach drop than walking into a room that I just cleaned, and seeing a spoonful of peanut butter just sitting on the floor (I have an accomplished toddler). Peanut butter on the floor, or on the counter, or on the tablecloth — or anywhere other than on a piece of bread — is frustrating.

My house is a mess, my patience is hardly a composure I explore regularly, and there are times when I feel like I am the biggest failure in the history of modern motherhood. Some days I’m just shooting for a participation trophy. There is no award for ignoring the laundry until everyone is out of underwear, or letting my 3-year-old watch Mulan 3 times before lunch. Did I mention I take my kids to McDonald’s once a week?

My brain seems to have stopped functioning at its full capacity, and I am simply going through the motions of loading the car and unloading the car at this point. Kids? Check. Purse? Check. Shoes? Check. Towels? Purely optional. Sunblock? Check.

"Who puts folded shirts on top of your closet shelf? I can hardly reach the hangers, alone. Honestly, people."

"Impostor Syndrome is the unwanted caboose on the train of motherhood. It is the trailing thoughts that give you the absurd ideas that you are a fraud."

Yet, there is life beyond just t-shirt and jeans. There is more to an ensemble than denim and scarves.

The last episode of “MyCoffeePot & Me” aired 2 years ago when I woke up to an unresponsive pot.

Was I hungry? Was it low blood sugar? Were my feet falling off? Was I crazy? Was I dying?

I worry about the food I give them. I worry about the clothes we have for them. I stress over the amount of time I spend with them . . . or don’t spend with them. When is it enough, and when is it overpowering?