Tamarah Rockwood

"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."

I don’t like my old friend Guilt very much. We are not BFFs. She smells funny, and I don’t appreciate her company.

"So, Hollywood's perfect couple is not just having a conscious uncoupling ... they are going the traditional route with a full divorce."

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?

Before I discovered I had celiac, I ate whatever I desired. Since discovering this autoimmune blessing (yes, blessing), I research what food I am, not only putting into my body, but into my family’s as well. I taught myself how to cook nutritious food from scratch that actually tastes amazing (these two do not always go hand-in-hand).

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.

1. EATING OUT. OMG, I could eat lunch at a diner . . . without also being given a coloring sheet with crayons. I could eat a whole meal by myself. I can play on my phone without having to share it! Bonus: No kids menus required.