Every Age is My Favorite

As a child turns 1 year old, I see so many mothers saying “No! Can I stop time?! I miss my baby! Why?!” Insert melodramatic statement. With my first child, I never had that thought once.  I actually couldn’t wait for the first year to go by. Her to become more independent, in turn, I would get a little independence too. She could do more things with her Dad since she wouldn’t be attached to my boob all day. A whole future ahead of us.

When Peach was 10 days old.

To be honest, I look back and regret much of her first year. I wish I would have smiled more. I wish I would have embraced that priceless, innocent time together. Motherhood is such a big transition and I wish I would have gotten perspective that THIS is the GOOD STUFF and throw my FOMO to the wind. I had a few major personal tragedies that perhaps, got the best of me. I’m here to say, grow through what you go through. It’s inevitable, anyway.

That I did.

Peach, 2 weeks old. Trip to Redwing, MN. Fly fishing with my dad.

After what arguably should have been one of the best years of my life, I spent it crying almost daily and clutching on to the hope that this too shall pass.

All too soon, I’m afraid.

My Dad with Peach on Fathers Day. 1 month before he passed away.

I even had thoughts like “I may never have another baby again.” God had a different plan. Like he always does. Surprise! I got pregnant with my son the month my daughter turned 1. There was no doubt in my mind, this is not a good time. I was just getting through the first year! I cried thinking about telling my husband.

A bittersweet moment with tears welling in my eyes, I told him. He smiled, leaned in and kissed me. Warmth came over me. We’re going to be okay. Maybe even better than okay. I settled into my pregnancy with a happy peace. Enjoying the precious months, planning with anticipation.

One day I asked the wisest woman I know (my mother- mom to 3 daughters) what her favorite age was while her children grew up. Her answer, “every age is my favorite.” Oh the smile it gave me. It touched my heart and soul. It’s really is so true. Pregnancy is full of hopes and dreams. Who will you be? What will you look like? The First Year. Full of love, cuddles and oh, so many firsts. The fun, wild and hilarious Toddler years. What a joy to see your personality and language flourish!

The day Chief was born. Jan 2017

I had a whole new perspective once my son was born. There’s no way I was going to let my past rob me of a beautiful first year with my him. (and second year with my daughter, too!) Shortly before my Dad passed, he said “there is beauty in every day.” I’ve mentioned it before. I hold it close to my heart. It helps me live in the moment. To really appreciate every age and stage of my children. Yes, it’s bittersweet knowing nursing my son is short lived and before I know it, I won’t be able to hold my daughter because she’ll be too big. I don’t let it ruin me though. I know some of the best years of our lives are yet to come. I look forward to the day my son can mow the lawn, my daughter and I can shop for her prom dress and even one day, grandchildren of my own.

The 3 amigos, taking on the world together.

I’m tearing up now. It’s truly because my heart is so full. I only pray one day, they get to feel the same kind of love I do, when they hold their own babies in their arms. I do pray I have more children, I just have too much love to give! It’s okay if this is it, though. I get to hold these memories in my heart forever.

♥️💓- TBHM Hilary

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Motherhood is lonely (yet, I’m never alone)

I’ve said it before “if you think my hands are full, you should see my heart”. It’s true. Motherhood is the most fulfilling, heart warming, proudest part of my life. My little loves, made from love. How I cherish them so. There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not thankful for spending all my days with them. We all get the same 24 hours. I know in my heart, I’ll never regret these priceless years.


That doesn’t mean some days don’t feel mundane. They do. Endless butt wiping, snack preparing, tantrum calming, tidying up all the while running on a few hours of sleep. Yeah, I’ve seen easier days.

It’s hard not to look at snapshots of my childless friends’ lives and take a trip down memory lane. Back when shopping dates and happy hours were spontaneous. Now my happy hour is boxed wine at home while folding tiny clothing in my robe. Thrilling, I know.


The transition to motherhood is enormous. Not only your body has drastic changes but everything else in your life.  One day when my daughter was a few months old I sat pondering how everything was so different. How could I be busy all day long taking care of my child and home yet feel so isolated? The kids need naps, the household needs maintenance, feeding the tribe, husband works late, etc. Am I looking for a remedy to my lonely stay-at-home mom life? No, not exactly. This is the chapter I’m in right now and that’s okay. I get to say “I wanted this life.” Yet, I also can say “this is hard.”


You know what would be cool though? If my friends pretended like I’m the old me. Invite me to happy hour. Invite me to Friday night double date. Invite me to the adult cabin weekend. Even if, “You probably don’t have a sitter”, or “I figured the kids had to go to bed”. Whoa there…if there’s a chance I can go I will find someone to watch my kids. Please don’t assume I can’t come. Heck, I might not even want to go! I honestly probably want to go to bed early. #teamnosleep.  I don’t blame my friends for being this way. Our lives are drastically different these days. I think staying up late is 10:30 PM. They’re just getting started. (and good for them!)


It’s hard spending an entire day with only toddlers to converse with or a baby that doesn’t even talk. The whole day might be spinning, but once the kids are in bed everything comes to a screeching halt. Like, wow. What is my purpose? Is anyone out there? Hello?! It’s me. I’m “still me”. I’ve said that a few too many times since becoming a mother, I’m afraid. When in reality, I am a new version of myself. There’s really no way I could be the exact person I was before becoming a mother. Now I’m a beautiful, caring, strong, selfless version of myself. A person I can be proud of.

Have no fear, I don’t let the loneliness consume me. I truly know today is a gift and these little babes won’t be little for very long at all. There is beauty in every day. You just have to find it. Even if it’s sticky and covered in crumbs. There’s no doubt, it’s full of love too.

💓👩‍👧‍👦-TBHM Hilary

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Hot Mess of the Week- Shame at School Pickup

I haven’t always been so forward about my hot mess life. Especially when it comes to my daughters school. Do I want them to know that I’m running late whilst throwing an Uncrustable from the frozen section at Costco on my counter? No. I’d prefer to be thought of as the mom who is creating beautiful themed bento box lunches. Prepped fresh at 5AM after my morning workout. A gal can dream…but, who am I kidding?! #teamnosleep doesn’t allow for a life like that.

I retrieve my daughter from the toddler community (Montessori lingo). All the while, juggling my baby as we make the long journey to Black Beauty (my suburban). Long Journey, you ask? Yes. Nothing ever comes fast and easy with the Poulsen Party of 4 (3 since Dad was working).

I prep Peachy Popper (age 2). “There’s the car, walk to the door and climb in.” She takes off running towards the neighboring house. Down a hill, through 2′ thick snow. She takes a mighty tumble, mitten-less. Insanity ensues. Or perhaps, sharp foreshadowing.

I clomp down the hill, wrangling a whiny Baby Chief. Snow getting all in my red Ugg boots, grab crying Peach and head back up the hill to the parking lot. I open the door and we all climb in. I plop Chief in his seat while I clip Peach in. At that point, I start the truck with my auto start from my key fob. I hop out to walk around to fasten the baby in.

*SLAP* My hand slips off the door handle. *STOMACH SINKS* You guessed it. My doors are locked. My keys?! Sitting cozy on the open seat next to Peach. Toddler clipped in, mobile baby not. Insert- PANIC. Mind you, it’s approximately 10 degrees outside. Nothing left to do but call my personal “emergency responder” (husband). His response, “call the cops.” Thanks dude.

Here’s the proof to set the scene. My view from the outside in.

I succumb to the inevitable and dial 9-1-1. At this point, other toddler moms are seeing that I’m having a serious struggle happen. One even stops to take my photo, “for the blog”. Haha. The principal even comes outside to check on me. Delivering a coffee. (Reason 100 why I love that school). As I wait for the police I just pray my baby doesn’t flip out of his seat. He’s a wild buck and he thought this was thrilling and hilarious.


The cop arrives and insists that things like this happen constantly. I don’t feel too bad… he even lets me snap a pic of him! LOL. Honestly, this dude was comical and I want him to come over for dinner. I just hope he likes frozen lasagne. *winks*


As much as I’d like to keep up appearances, it’s seems like I’m already super successful living up to my name, Totally Blessed Hot Mess. Now the school moms and faculty have confirmed their suspicions. #ownit?

👮‍♂️ 🔐 🤦🏻‍♀️- TBHM Hilary

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Hot Mess of the Week- Gas Station Incident 

I’m notorious for driving my truck until the gas is down to the last drop. Running on fumes, if you will. 95% of the time my husband gets in my suburban he says, “seriously, Hilary?! Your gas light is on again!” Guilty as charged. ‘Black Beauty’ ain’t sliding in to the pump unless that familiar orange light pops on. Ding! Oh yeah, I need gas again. Can I just make it home?, I wonder. 

One morning after taking the kids to ECFE Drop In Playtime, I decided to stop and fuel up. Before the light came on! Can you believe it?! In part, to be a better version of myself. (Baby steps) Also, to avoid unwanted chatter from the above mentioned, hub. Feeling like I have the world on my shoulders, I slip off my black leather seat and hop out.

I hear a ding, ding, ding on my way out. I knew my keys weren’t in the ignition. I ignore. I begin pumping the gas and go to open up the car to throw some trash away. *heart sinks* YEP. DOORS ARE LOCKED. With my phone in the truck too. 

I quickly run inside and ask to use their phone. This is basically torture for me. I never leave my kids in the car. Let alone at freezing temps! Feeling a combo of panic and shame, I dial my husband. He answers! Joy to the world, he’s only 20 minutes away… Lucky for me the baby is sleeping and the toddler is chomping on crackers ,defiling my once sleek and maybe even sexy interior. 

Pic bc my kids are troopers and don’t know I’m a hot mess yet. (Peach 2.5)

The minutes feels like hours. Then I feel a buzz on my wrist. My Apple Watch! I call hub again. He figures I got in. Sadly, no but I have communication access whilst viewing my sad babes. He says “look to the left”. Smiling, I hear the roar of his black diesel truck. I’m filled with relief. 

He starts pulling tools out of his Chevy and working on opening the door. After a few minutes with no luck we decide, it’s either time to smash the window to smithereens or call 911. Shout out to my Apple Watch (worthy of its own blog post) I phone the local PD. 

As divine intervention would have it, hubby pops the lock as the 5-0 arrive. 👏🏼 My Super man and “first responder” saves the day like usual. Gotta love little reminders as why you married someone 😜 

If you’re wondering how I managed to lock the doors? My elbow. She’s a nasty little thing. 

⛽️ 🔑- TBHM Hilary 

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