I usually post story times on Thursdays.

And I want to keep doing that.

But yesterday was different.

So naturally I had to write about it.

It wasn’t the best day.

And it wasn’t the worst day ever.

It just wasn’t great.

And in typical Megan fashion, I took things personally.

When in reality it wasn’t on me.

I was pretty bummed out all day.

You know how those days go?

You spill your coffee.

Get a rude email at work.

Someone says something mean to you.

You run into traffic.

All of the small things that can add up make everything seem worse than it actually is.

That’s how yesterday went.

And most of this week for that matter.

I was super frustrated.

I feel like I’m a good person for the most part.

I use my turning signal, hold the door open for people, and I don’t do anything illegal.

The one “bad” habit I have is drinking too much coffee.

That or swearing as much as I do.

But that’s it.

I’ve always believed in Karma.

Because I had to give myself that reassurance that people who did bad things would have bad things happen to them in return.

It just made me feel better.

With that being said, I get frustrated when bad things happen to good people.

It doesn’t make sense.

Are you supposed to learn some giant life lesson?

Is it going to direct you down this new magical path in life.

Is it all a part of something bigger than we can possibly understand.

I just couldn’t wrap my mind around how all of these bad things were happening to me, small, but bad nonetheless.

What about Karma?

Wasn’t it supposed to help me out?

Didn’t it have my back?

As much as I tried to figure out why these bad things were happening to me, I just couldn’t find an answer

I did however, found a solution to it yesterday.

A temporary fix if you will.

I came across this word that was new to me.


I saw the word described in a paragraph.

Life is always changing and I drift easily through those changes, good and bad. As I drift through hard times, I can take comfort in knowing that I will leave them behind. As I drift away from good times I can take comfort in knowing that more will come my way. 

It’s beautiful really.

Life is always changing, we have no control over it.

And we have to accept that.

Good things will happen, and bad things will happen.

But they’ll always be happening.

As we experience those hard times we should take comfort.

Comfort in knowing that eventually you will leave them behind.

And most importantly in my opinion, that as the good times come and go, you can take comfort in knowing that more are going to come.

I think that’s harder than going through the bad times.

Watching the good times go.

Graduating from college.

Watching your children move out.

Sending your best friend off to move across the Country.

It’s still hard.

Seeing something that you’ve loved so much change and becoming different.

Taking comfort that you once knew, with something that was a constant in your life, and watching it change.

Wondering if things will ever be the same.

But knowing that no matter what, more good things will come your way.

I took this yesterday and really let it sit with me.

In the peak of my bad day, this hit me so incredibly hard.

And hits me even more as I write this now, reflecting on it all.

I told myself over and over again.

I will eventually leave these bad days behind.

And it helped, believe it or not.

Saying this over and over again made the negative thoughts escape.

I think if you believe in something so much, you can create it.

Even if it’s just a thought.

If you believe in something enough, it’ll happen.

The bad days will be left behind.

And those good days that you love so much, will too be left behind.

But they’ll be back.

Just different.

This gave me comfort yesterday.

Comfort when I was having a bad day.

And I hope that it can help you as well.

That no matter what might be going wrong, big or small, that it will be left behind.

That it’ll be just a memory.

Something that happened to you.

But that you can take comfort in knowing that it’s gone.

And because of it, you’re stronger the next time around.


That time I ran a marathon.

The Boston Marathon Bombings really upset me.

I remember watching it happen on TV and being completely shocked.

How could someone hurt something that I loved so much.

I couldn’t imagine training for so long only to have it ruined by a careless and heartless act.

I really wanted to do something to honor everyone involved in that horrific event.

I remember texting my sister telling her that we had to do something.

We brought up our local marathon, the Portland Marathon in October.

We thought it was crazy.

The furthest we had ever run up until that point was probably 15 miles, how on earth could we do 26.2.

But that didn’t matter.

We wanted to do whatever we could to honor everyone involved at Boston.

So we did it.

We clicked “register” and signed up for our first marathon just 5 months later.

The training started.

It was gradual and then took off.

I got help from an awesome teammate of mine in College, who wrote me a training plan that I religiously followed.

We realized what our end goal was going to be right away.

We wanted to qualify for the Boston Marathon.

The qualifying time for women our age is a 3 hour a 35 minute marathon.

We were going to do it.

We were so freakin excited.

After months of training, training, and more training.

Some of the longest and most challenging months of my life.

The day had come.

God I was so scared.

It was such a scary thing, 26.2 miles, but I knew if I had my sister by my side, I would be okay.

My running partner since birth was going to be with me today and all was fine.

We got up probably around 3:30 or 4 in the morning since we lived about an hour away from the race start.

I remember the butterflies in my stomach on the drive up, hell I can feel them even now four and a half years later.

Listening to my drake playlist over and over again.

Trying to pump myself up for the challenge ahead.

When I got a text from my best friend.

“Give me speed, give me strength, let me fly.”

It reminded me of all of the people I had met along the way.

The support system I had driving up with me to stand around for hours just to watch me run.

We got up to Portland and found our starting area, and most importantly the bathrooms.

My family took pictures as Janelle and I sat and waited.

I remember saying our goodbyes to our parents and my husband, who was just my boyfriend at the time, as the race neared.

It was all starting to feel so real.

Before the race a voice came over the speakers and said that we were going to have a moment of silence for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings along with a tribute.

And next thing we know, Sweet Caroline played through the streets of Portland.

A song sang during Boston Red Soxs games.

My heart was so happy.

Everyone around us sang along, hand in hand with each other.

But that wasn’t the best part.

They were trying to play the national anthem when something went wrong with the speakers, so they suggested we all sing it out loud.

I had never heard anything more beautiful.

Singing the national anthem with strangers who were spread through the city, all with the same goals.

Who were all running for something bigger than ourselves.

It was something that I’ll never forget.

Next thing I knew, the gun was off.

In typical Megan and Janelle fashion, we got out quick.

We had to get into a good spot and get into a good rhythm.

I was surprised with how good I felt.

Step by step.

Mile after Mile.

I felt strong.

We came up along a group of runners who cheered us on and asked if were were twins.

We answered in sync, like we always did.

He called us the “wonder twins” and as silly as that sounds it motivated us that much more.

We felt empowered and strong, because we were.

We were running a marathon.

I remember even seeing my family a couple of times and hearing them shout our names. It reminded me why I was doing this.

For the people that I loved.

And those who lost theirs that last April.

We just kept running, right next to each other, up until the half way mark.

I had written my paces on my arm in sharpie, to make sure I could hit that 3:35 Boston Marathon qualifying time.

I was feeling great, and we were ahead of pace as we approached the arch of balloons letting us know we were at mile 13.

Janelle wasn’t feeling great, and I was.

I kept trying to walk her through getting rid of her side ache and for the most part it was working.

She could tell I was feeling better than she was, so she let me go.

She told me to leave, that she was fine and if I could do it, to go.

We squeezed each others hand and I was off to do the rest by myself.

I still felt good.

I was hitting my paces and breathing just fine.

Until I approached the St. Johns Bridge.

I had been warned about this bridge.

But nothing could have prepared me for it.

The hill leading up to it was huge.

I could barely pick up my legs.

I was trying and trying, giving it everything I had.

I remember someone coming up behind me and telling me to follow him up the hill.

I tried.

Once I got to the top I had a little more energy.

I was told by that after you get over the bridge, that the rest of the course is a gradual downhill.

I wanted that downhill so bad.

I was feeling better.

Getting my stride back.

One foot in front of the other.

That’s what I kept telling myself.

The streets of Portland were flooded with fans.

Pom Poms, huge signs, and voices louder than you could imagine.

It was so encouraging.

Until mile 24.

At mile 24 my vision started to get blurry.

I felt like I couldn’t see my feet hit the ground.

Like I was moving but I wasn’t.

If that makes any sense.

Looking at my watch I noticed that my pace was starting to slip just a little.

I couldn’t have that.

I had one goal, and I was going to achieve that goal.

Janelle passed me at mile 25 as we crossed the Broadway Bridge.

She told me good job.

I tried to mutter “you too” but just a bunch of sounds came out of my mouth.

I was slowly losing it.

I was so close though.

So close that I could hear the crowd at the finish line.

The finish line that I wanted so badly.

I turned onto Naito Parkway, which meant that I only had about a half mile or so left.

And then it happened.

I fell.

Maybe I wasn’t picking my feet up or something.

But I fell.

Right on my knees in front of everyone watching.

I remember this sweet woman in a pink shirt stopped and grabbed me as she called for the medics.

People in white shirts came running from the sidewalk.

My knee was cut up pretty badly and they wanted to take me off the course.

I told them no.

That I had to finish.

I was only two minutes away from finishing and I needed to finish.

They let me go, and the sweet woman in the pink shirt agreed to run right next to me as we finished, in case I fell again.

I turned the corner to the finish.

And don’t remember anything after that.

Except getting placed down on a bed under a medical tent.

I woke up to an IV getting stuck in my arm.

I freaked out.

Instantly I looked down around my neck searching for my finishers medal.

I found it.

Thank god.

I had finished.

But I didn’t know how.

I blacked out and didn’t remember any of it as I took that final turn.

I had been training my butt off all spring and summer for this race.

But I didn’t remember finishing.

I looked back at pictures of other people finishing.

There were smiles, and hands tossed in the air with the look of pure joy on their faces.

Whereas I, from what I heard from my family, crossed the finish line with a blank stare on my face and instantly dropped.

I found pictures of myself in a wheelchair because I couldn’t walk.

I still ran an amazing time.

I ran a 3:42:59.

I missed qualifying for the Boston Marathon by 8 minutes.

That was it.

Do you know how it feels to want something so bad.

To the point where it’s all you think about?

That you consume your life with it.

To get so close to finishing and not even remembering it?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly proud of myself, and always be.

To be a 23 year old and miss qualifying for the Boston Marathon by only 8 minutes during your first ever marathon?

But I didn’t get my moment.

I didn’t cross the finish line feeling like I was on top of the world.

I didn’t have that moment that I can look back at and remember with pure happiness.

I don’t remember it.

It’s almost like I left it unfinished.

I’m surprised sitting here today, four and a half years later.

It still gets to me.

Crying as I write these words down for everyone to see.

To see that I wanted something so bad and was so close to getting it.

That I blacked out at the end and don’t even remember finishing.

Some people would use that to quit.

Some people would take that moment and never do it again.

They would be embarrassed or say that it wasn’t meant to be.

They would be discouraged.

But not me.

I’ll always have that drive.

That motivation that one day I will remember finishing a marathon.

That I still have so many years to reach my goal.

There will always be this fire under me, reminding me of what I still have to do.

I was and still am so incredibly proud of myself.

I know that one day, I’ll do it.

I’ll run those 26.2 miles and have my moment.

I’ll cross the finish line with the biggest smile imaginable.

And I’ll do it.

One day.

Just watch.

Living in my comfort zone.


I really didn’t feel like writing today.

Not because somethings wrong.

I just thought I didn’t have anything to write about.

I was trying to think of something life changing or motivational that I could pull out of my pocket and share with anyone who reads this.

I think I was making it too complicated.

I tend to do that sometimes.




Trying to get things done perfectly the first time around.

I’m a huge perfectionist, a type A personality, a Monica Geller if you will.

Things just need to be done the way I want them, the first time around.

Is it starting to make sense?

I thought that because nothing inspiring was going on in my life at this moment that I couldn’t write.

That’s just wrong.

I saw a quote on Instagram the other day that had me thinking.

“Nothing good comes from your comfort zone.”

Which, in a sense, is true.

If you don’t take a chance, or try something new, how do you expect to grow.

I’m all for taking chances and trying new things, they can lead to results even better than you ever imagined.

But I feel like I’m being told that if I stay comfortable I’ll never be better.

Yes, if you do everything exactly the same every single day, you’ll never change.

I feel like that’s a bit repetitive, and change every now and then is great.

But what’s wrong with being comfortable?

Is it such a bad thing?

I like being comfortable.

I like my life the way it is.

If I want to get out of my comfort zone once and a while I will, but if I like it, why do I need to change?

Every day we’re told that we need to change.

Our hair.

Our weight.

Our style.

Our workout routine.

Our diet.

That we need to be more outgoing.

That we need to take risks, chances, and live this crazy and carefree type of lifestyle.

That we can’t let anything hold us back while chasing our dreams.

But can we not have goals while living a comfortable life?

Can we not dream these big dreams while living in our comfort zone?

I call bullshit.

Being a mom, wife, daughter, sister, and working an 8 hour job every single day should’t take me out of the running for living the life I’ve imagined for myself.

I have goals.

I have dreams.

I can still accomplish those things while living a life where I find comfort in my every day routine.

I want to write a book someday, that’s my biggest goal by far.

And I can still do it if I’m comfortable.

I think sometimes you can make yourself uncomfortable.

You can change things up a bit, or even go for something bigger.

That’s okay.

But it’s also okay to return back to your comfort zone.

Having a place where you feel comfortable and at home is perfectly ok.

In a world of social media telling us to be one way or another, I feel like more often than none I’m being made to feel like I’m not normal for being normal.

That if I’m comfortable somethings wrong with me.

When, in fact, I feel like being comfortable gives me that comfort that no matter what I’m trying to do, I’ll have a place to fall back to.

I’ll always have a support system and place to call home at the end of the day.

Getting out of your comfort zone is okay, and encouraged most of the time.

But there is something good that can come out of your comfort zone, a beautiful life.

That time I read a book that changed my life.



I’ve talked about it several times before.

The summer of 2013.

It was a pivotal time in my life.

A time where I was lost.

And a time where I found myself.

A time where I started a new adventure.

And met the love of my life.

It was the start to finding who I really was and loving myself to the fullest.

It started with reading a book.

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.

I didn’t really read up until that point.

Honestly I didn’t have the attention span for it.

But I had found myself in a place where I had lots of spare time and nothing to fill it with.

I decided to pick up this book that I heard was going to be a movie soon.

I had heard so many things about it and decided maybe this would be a good way to fill my time.

Little did I know that it would be the start to my road of self discovery.

Once I started reading this book I couldn’t stop.

I’ve always heard people say that when it came to reading.

They would start a book and literally not be able to put it down.

That the book was that good.

This is how this book was for me.

I would stay up late just to read.

I even took it to my job when we had down time and read.

I finished it in two days.

Which for me was huge.

The way that John Green wrote made it so easy for me to take in everything.

The tale of love and loss put my entire life into perspective.

It made me fall in love with myself and see my life from a new point of view.

A friend of mine, who was going through a difficult time, asked me to borrow it after I was finished.

He told me that it also changed his life.

He was going through a weird time and was lost himself. It gave him a brand new perspective.

We both bonded over it.

A month or so later he gave me a signed copy of it, and it’s one of my favorite things.

I made my mom read it and she loved it as well.

We went to see the movie together and I started crying at the opening credits.

The book that changed me was coming to life.

I tried reading other books by John Green, and they were really good.

But nothing got me like this book did.

I remember the night I finished it, I was at work.

I walked to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall.

I cried.

I couldn’t stop crying.

I had invested so much of myself into this book.

It hit me so hard.

From that moment on I was different.

I read more.

Smiled more.

Found joy in everything that I could.

Took more selfies.

Found the beauty in my solitude.

From that moment on I was hopeful.

Hopeful that things would turn around.

That if I started living the life that I knew I wanted things would happen.

Things would fall into place.

I can’t put my finger on my favorite line of the book, or the exact moment that I knew I was reading something special.

It was the entire thing.

All 317 pages.

The relationship between Augustus Waters and Hazel Grace Lancaster gave me hope that my days would get better.

It made me take the plunge into loving myself so that I could fully love others.

I feel like books can do that to you.

They can make you forget.

They can allow you to lose yourself in something.

Giving you this idea that things will get better.

That you’ll be okay.

It feels weird to say out loud.

That a book made for young adults could change the life of a 23 year old.

But it did.

This book is something that’ll I’ll always hold near to my heart.

The book that started it all.

The reason my life took a turn for the better.

If you get a chance you should read it.

You won’t regret it.







27 things I loved about being 27.


If you know me at all, you’ll know that I love my birthday.


The countdown has been on since New Years.

I wish I could tell you it’s because of some sentimental reason.

But I just love my birthday, and I love that I get to share it with my best friend.

It’s always been one of my favorite days of the year, besides Christmas.

As you get older, some may say it looses its spark.

That once you turn 21 every birthday after that sucks.

Don’t believe them.

Each and every birthday after is what you make it.

If you don’t care about your birthday, don’t care.

But if you want to be treated like a queen put that crown on.

Its what you want it to be.

For instance, I turn 28 on Thursday.

I’m two years away from 30..don’t panic Megan..DONT PANIC.

And I think my birthday is just as special as when I was younger.

It’s your day to accept your awesomeness.

Told you I loved birthdays.

I’ve been trying to think of a birthday blog post, something to summarize how awesome my 27th year was.

Although I couldn’t tell you 27 life lessons I learned while being 27, I can definitely highlight 27 things about this year.


27 was a great year.

And I think you should always leave one year with positive thoughts, in hope that the next year will be just as great if not better.

So I bring you my early birthday present,

27 things that I loved about being 27.

1. That the dodgers made it to the World Series.

2. My amazing nephew Cam.

3. Deciding to dye my hair brown again.

4. My hurdle crew.

5. When I learned to let the negative people go.

6. Every single milestone that Ian hit; crawling, getting his teeth, walking, saying mama and dada. The list goes on people.

7. Realizing how capable I am.

8. Crossing another baseball stadium off of my list.

9. Ian taking his first trip to California.

10. That McKay finally got their new turf.

11. Seeing two of the kids I use to coach running in college.

12. Taking my family pictures.

13. Dressing up as the power rangers for Halloween.

14. Leaving my old job at the hospital.

15. Starting my new job at McKay.

16. Taking Ian to his first college football game, even though it was an Oregon State game.

17. Running my first race in three years and placing first in my age group.

18. Watching the people I love change for the better.

19. My dads awesome surprise birthday party.

20. Our multiple beach trip with our friends and their families.

21. Getting my new tattoo.

22. Taylor Swift releasing her new album “Reputation.”

23. Deciding to watch every episode of Will and Grace.

24. The LANY concert that I love so much.

25. Getting my nose pierced.

26. One of my hurdlers getting 5th in the 110’s at the district Track meet.

27. Finding out that New Girl got one more season.

There you have it.

Honestly I’ll admit, the last six or so we’re hard to think of. I had to look at the pictures on my phone and try to remember what happened.

But the first 20 or so just came to me, as fast as I could type them.

The things that truly made me smile this year.

And not everything has to be some sentimental life lesson about finding yourself.

It can be as easy as finding a new tv show you liked, or realizing a local coffee shop serves pumpkin lattes all year round.

The small things make up the big picture.

The memories you had.

The lessons you may have learned.

The things that made you smile.

Those are what make up your year.

I hope 28 brings me half as much joy as 27 brought me.

I hope its filled with more concerts, baseball games, and memories of my little boy.

This will be a great year, I can feel it.

That time I got nervous..


I love running.

As you may know by now by reading my blog.

It’s a huge part of my life.

I never thought that something could even come close to it.

That once I was done running in college I’d never have that feeling again.

That nervous leg twitch on the starting line before a race.

The butterflies in my stomach.

The feeling of fire in my lungs tired from the race I just ran.

I thought it was all gone.

Until I started coaching.

Watching your athletes race is such a crazy experience.

You train with them, run with them, and put everything into what they do.

To have it all come down to a single race that you can’t help them with.

That they have to do all by themselves.

It’s so surreal.

I have the same feelings that I had when I was racing, when my kids are racing.

Now I know what my parents went through all those years.

Thinking back on the four and a half years of coaching I’ve done, cross country and track, there are two races that stand out to me.

Two races that gave me goosebumps.

Two races that made me so incredibly nervous but excited at the same time.

Two races that made me remember why I love coaching.

The first race was during the track season of 2016.

I got to coach Adolfo for 3 years.

He struggled quite a bit the first two years to really find himself.

To hit those times that he knew he could hit.

He ended up running a seasons best of 11:28 in the 3000 meter run his freshman year, and didn’t even do the event his sophomore year.

Junior year he started to show progress and ran a 10:46 in the 3000.

Yet he still wasn’t happy.

He trained all summer and had a great cross country season in the fall, all to make sure he had an even better track season.

We were at the Stayton Twilight track meet, and the 3000 was going to be run in the dark under the stadium lights.

It was the best race.

Throughout the season he had run a 10:47 and 10:23 in the 3000, he was ready for a breakthrough.

He started off the race so strong and so tough.

He kept his eyes up and on every runner in front of him, knowing what he had to do to improve.

The last 600 meters were my favorite.

Cheering so loud for him, telling him that he was having a great race.

When he approached the final 100 meters I looked up at the clock.

I remember being in shock.

He was so close to breaking 10 minutes.

I remember sprinting down to the finish line with a bunch of other kids screaming as loud as we could.

He didn’t quite break 10 minutes but he ran a 10:00.14.

He was so close.

But he was happy, and proud of himself, and I don’t think he stopped smiling.

Even thinking about it now brings back chills.

Seeing that moment in an athlete when things finally click.

When they finally believe that they can do what you’ve been telling them they could do all along.

My second favorite race was during this most recent cross country season.

Ramiro, who’s only a sophomore, had been training so hard all summer.

All of us coaches knew that he was going to have a special season.

His freshman year he ran a personal best of 19:35 in the 5k, but never broke the 20 minute mark again after that.

We could all tell that he had more in him, he just had to figure it out.

This last season was crazy for him.

He started with a 20:45 which would have been one of his faster times from the year before.

And then he got faster.



And of course, the one meet that I had to miss, he ran a 17:58.

Breaking the 18 minute mark is huge.

And he did it.

I talked to him on the phone after his race and told him that since I wasn’t there he had to do it again, he agreed.

The next meet he ran a 17:57.

Ramiro kept improving.

It was insane.

Watching it all click for him, and watching him get excited to race, was so much fun as a coach to see.

His last meet of the season was the district cross country meet.

He told us before the race he didn’t want to know his place or time throughout the race.

So we all cheered as loud as we could when he passed us.

He looked strong, focused, and motivated.

We realized as he passed us, that he was in a state qualifying position.

We all looked at each other in complete shock.

I remember telling everyone that I had goosebumps.

Even though he might not have finished in the position he wanted, he ended up running better than he was ranked, he finished 14th.

And he ran a 17:23, which was a personal record.

It was the coolest thing.

Watching him run.

Watching it click to him.

Watching him in control of his race.

Deciding to coach is probably one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Coaching gave me a purpose.

Coaching motivates me to be a better person.

Coaching is the most rewarding thing.

I can’t imagine my life without it.

So cheers to more amazing races to come.

Cheers to being so nervous that I can’t even think straight.

Man, I love coaching.


How to Survive life with a one year old.

If I had a dollar for every time Jason and I have said to each other..

“There’s not a book on this kind of stuff, no one tells you what to do”

when it comes to raising Ian I’d have a lot of money on my hands.

No but seriously.

No one tells you how to raise a child.

You just kind of figure it out.

However, certain things come easier than others.

Like finding out what puts your little one to sleep might be easier than knowing what kinds of food to feed them and when.

Getting them to ditch their bottle might be the hardest thing ever, and lets not even start on getting them to sleep through the night.

Some things might be easier for one family and harder for the next, but that’s just how it goes.

Everything’s different, you just have to learn and figure it out as it goes.

If you’re reading this and don’t have kids, I’m sorry, this isn’t the most assuring thing in the world.

This is just how I see it.

And it doesn’t get easier as they get older.

It’s different every day.

And in that moment you might not be able to see it, but it’s amazing.

Just not at that moment maybe.

Especially when they decide that they want to poop in the bathtub.

It’s a crazy ride, but I feel like as a mom of a one year old, I can give some advice on how to survive it.

How you yourself can keep your sanity and not want to pull your hair out.


Have a sense of humor. Seriously. It’s so hard to get through the night and not laugh. It might be stressful and there might be days where you just want to scream, but if you can’t stop and laugh about it you’ll never make it. You just have to remember that when they sneeze in your face or throw their food on the ground, that they didn’t mean it and they still love you. You can’t laugh about everything, you’re human, you have emotions. Just try and laugh every now and then.


Have wine on hand. It doesn’t have to be wine, it can be any sort of dessert. Something that you love and that’ll help you relax whenever the little one decides to go to sleep, if they decide to go to sleep. I’ve found that on those nights where Ian has a little too much energy before bed, a nice glass of wine (or two) is the most beautiful thing in the world after he decides to go to sleep. If I don’t have wine, brownies or cereal are a good substitution.


Sleep when they sleep. This one is super important, and something I wish I would have done more when we had just brought Ian home. If you didn’t get any sleep the night before and they decide that they want to sleep for an hour, you might as well catch up on your z’s. Seriously, take advantage of the peace and quiet if you need it.


Pick and choose your battles. Your child running around the house with no pants on, doesn’t sound as bad as them playing with the garbage can, right? Or if they decide they want to take all of their snacks out of the bags and play with the boxes it isn’t as bad as them wanting to play with the outlets. There are some things that are ok and aren’t worth a total breakdown.


Celebrate the little wins. This one is huge, especially if the house is a jungle of toys and dirty laundry but you got your little one to eat all of his lunch without giving it to the dog. Celebrate those little wins and give yourself a pat on the back. A wins a win in my book and it’ll help your sanity. Remembering that you might have had a hard day but you got the house cleaned up is worth that extra cupcake you want to reward yourself with.


Have something that’s yours. I can’t stress this one enough, if you take anything away from this post, make it this. When I was on maternity leave with Ian I was going crazy. I loved it don’t get me wrong, but I needed something that I could do to take me away from the responsibilities and bottles just for an hour if anything. That’s where my blog came in. It was my escape, my sanity. Whether it’s working out, knitting, or starting a blog. Anything that can be 100 percent yours, will be a nice little treat when you can get a minute away from the baby.

There you have it folks, how to survive life with a year old.

It’s different for every baby.

However, there are things we can do as parents to keep our sanity.

To make days not as stressful and to laugh every now and then.

Remember, were all human and we make mistakes.

Kids can’t tell the difference and they love us no matter what.