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Challenge: Finding Your Village

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and now we all believe we are bad a**es.

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Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and now we all believe we are bad a**es.

It's a good thing, though.

Because not only does the mom-mixed juice have us brimming with confidence, but it also has us encouraging and supporting the heck out of one another and I sure as heck am not complaining.

It's pretty flippin' fantastic to observe women, specifically mothers -- all over the freakin' planet -- coming out in droves to support each other in the real and digital world.

Moms of different ethnicities.

Moms with different upbringings and backgrounds.

Moms of different sizes and religions.

Moms with different levels of education.

Moms who are married and those who are single, divorced or widowed.

Moms who work outside of the home and those that don't.

Moms who gave birth to their offspring and ones who have fostered and/or adopted.

Moms who fly the helicopter and run a tight ship and those who don't hang like a drone above their children and instead let them steer the boat.

Moms who breastfeed and those that don't.

Moms who join PTA and those that say "no thanks" to such an offer.

Moms, who despite having so many differences, come together in the name of raising good humans.

Moms who wholeheartedly understand that parenting is utterly depleting -- emotionally, mentally and physically.

Moms who have figured out that the best (and possibly only) way to make it well past 18+ years -- and really the rest of your life as a mother -- is to have other women to count on, call on and turn to for support, encouragement, and advice whenever you should need it.

Comparison and judgment do still happen, of course, but, quite frankly, I've been seeing and hearing a lot less about it.

The new norm is not a woman trying to be the "perfect" mother.

It's not Barbie-look-alike, Sally, riding around on her high horse with her impeccably dressed, well-mannered children, traveling behind in their chauffeur-driven Cadillac Escalade on their way to the membership-only country club playdate that you have to pay $10 a time to attend, and then her children being unkind to your kid while Sally watches them, says and does nothing, and then outwardly judges you making you feel very small and awkward.

It's not Kim and Becky gossiping about you, your disheveled appearance, unruly kids and seemingly imperfect marriage behind your back.

It's not Beth, your supposed "best friend" mocking your attempt at direct sales and online marketing for the latest trend in eco-friendly beauty products because you are merely trying to help contribute financially to your family.

It's not Heather's passive-aggressive comments -- made "in jest" -- regarding your home's disorder and lack of organization, your over or under-packed schedule, your response to the latest birthday party invite, your ability to cook without over or under-cooking every meal you make.

It's not Judy, who exercises daily, remarking on your choice to eat a Snickers bar while the kids play.

It's not Megan making you feel poorly about yourself because your child isn't sleeping through the night yet or because he still pees in the bed or she uses a pacifier.

It's not any of this -- though it once was -- and thank goodness for that.

What I see more these days -- at school walk-up line, dance practice, girl scouts and even online -- is woman after woman, mom after mom, making every single gosh darn effort to make others -- both in and out of their immediate "tribe" or circle -- feel accepted and "backed," and empowered and motivated.

And, if nothing else, LISTENED TO and HEARD.

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and now we all believe we are bad a**es.

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and now we all believe that we ALL are bad a**es.

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and now we are all drunk on self-love, kindness, and empathy.

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and it has each of us being sensitive to one another's needs and considerate in our actions toward each other.

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and now each of us is fully cognizant of how darn powerful, productive and inspiring we can be when we work as a cohort and as a team.

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and now we are all in this together.

Someone spiked the mom Kool-Aid, and I don't ever want to stop drinking it.

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