The Nights That Broke Me (And Then Saved Me)

A love letter to the reset — and the moms who aren't there yet

The first time my kids went to their dad's, I sat in a quiet house and genuinely did not know what to do with my hands.

No one needed a snack. No one was fighting over the remote. The dishes were exactly where I left them. And somewhere in that stillness, I fell apart a little — because silence, when you're used to chaos, doesn't feel like peace. It feels like absence.

That was then.

I Just Had Two Kid-Free Nights. Here's What I Did With Them.

This past two nights, while my kids were with their dad, I did something radical.

I did me. That’s what I do now. Not in a performative "treat yourself" way. Not a spa day. Real, honest, unglamorous me — the version of myself that existed before 6am wake-ups and lunch packing and "Mom, where are my socks?"

I woke up when my body decided to, not when someone needed breakfast. I slowed down. I went somewhere without calculating logistics. I sat with my thoughts longer than thirty consecutive seconds.

It sounds small. It was enormous.

I taught 2 classes without having to rush out of the studio for school pick up.

I got a tattoo…for no real reason…just felt like symbolizing this part of life. The tattoo symbolizes my kids of course (a muffin, coffee, and croissant is our go to morning mom/kid date) 😆

Tattoo by Courtney of Lionheart Tattoo Portland.

I ran on the treadmill and didn’t rush through a workout.

I went into the grocery store and I bought some of my favs. Not even one single snack for my kids. I laughed out loud.

I did some boring work on my computer that had to be done, and drank far too many Diet Cokes. (Look at that card Ella already made me for Mother’s Day.)

I went to my boyfriend’s 8:30pm (!!!) softball game and drank some High Noons, while not worrying about my kids’ bedtime. It felt so freeing (and then I had to step in to play part of the softball game, and I felt like I was 25 again!)

It Took Me A While To Get Here

I won't pretend the early days of shared custody were anything but painful. That physical ache when you close the door behind them - there's nothing quite like it. Your arms feel too empty. The house smells like them, and they're not in it. You check your phone constantly for a text that won't come for hours because they're fine, they're always fine, but your nervous system hasn't gotten the memo yet.

But here's what I know now, a year in: the reset is real. The reset is necessary. And the reset does not make you a bad mother. It makes you a sustainable one.

I used to think time away from my kids would break me. And for a while, honestly? It kind of did. We used to FaceTime when the kids were with their dad. It was for me, not them. Now we parent in a more parallel way… in that we aren’t up to speed on everything they do at their other house. Luckily having a 5-year-old she tells me a lot.

Two Friends Are Going Through It Right Now

I have two close friends currently in the middle of divorce. Both of them moms. Both of them are terrified of the part where their kids aren't with them.

They can't fathom it yet - the nights away, the handoffs, the calendar that splits your children's lives into columns. When I try to tell them that one day they might actually look forward to those nights, they look at me like I've lost my mind.

I get it. I looked at people like that too.

But I also want them to know what I wish someone had told me: you are allowed to survive this, and then some. The pain is real, and it passes and what's left on the other side is something that looks a lot like yourself again.

And Now My Kids Are About To Be Gone For A Week

Their dad is taking them on vacation. A full week.

And I, the woman who just told you she's made peace with shared custody, am currently in full spiral mode.

What if they miss me? (They will. They'll also be fine.)
What if they cry? (They might. Their dad will handle it.)
What if they're hungry? (They'll tell him. He knows how to feed children.)
What if something happens? (You'll be reachable. You're not disappearing.)

My brain has invented seventeen emergency scenarios involving children who are, statistically, about to have a great vacation.

This is the thing about mom-brain: it doesn't care that you've done this before. It doesn't care that your children are resilient and loved and in capable hands. It will spin out anyway, because that's what it does when it loves something this much.

So I'm doing what I always do: I'm reminding myself that I am a person.

You Are A Person

You were someone before you became a mother. You had things you loved, things you were curious about, things you never got around to doing. Somewhere between the first nap schedule and the hundredth school pickup, a lot of that got packed into a box labeled later.

Kid-free time is later.

It doesn't have to be a vacation or a big adventure. It can be finishing a book. Taking a long walk with no destination. Calling a friend and talking for two hours without being interrupted. Sitting in a coffee shop. Reorganizing a closet. Doing absolutely nothing and letting that be enough.

I drank coffee in bed at 7 am! No 6 am wakeup from my kids…it felt luxurious.

I Wish Every Mom Got This Reset

Here's the part I mean with my whole chest: you don't have to be divorced to deserve this.

The moms in happy, intact marriages who haven't slept a full night in years - they need it too. The single moms with no co-parent to hand off to - they need it most and get it least. The moms running on empty who feel guilty for even wanting time to themselves - especially them.

We have built a culture that celebrates maternal sacrifice to the point where a mother wanting a weekend alone sounds radical. It isn't. It's basic human maintenance.

Your kids need you fed. Rested. Whole.

Not martyred. Not depleted. Not running on guilt and cold coffee and the fumes of a person you used to be.

Can I give you permission right here to ask for time off for Mother’s Day this weekend?

Another single mom friend of mine texted me yesterday asking if I thought it was weird if she didn’t see her son on Mother’s Day. He’d be with his dad, and she didnt feel like doing a kid swap. I told her it’s just another day and that, honestly, a lot of moms probably want a day alone for Mother’s Day rather than to have to sit at brunch with their screaming toddlers and mother-in-law while reading an emotionless card saying she’s a great mom. That sounds negative, but I don’t mean that. More in a real way that that doesn’t have to be your perfect Mother’s Day.

If you don’t want to have to entertain family or get dressed up, you should be able to ask for a reset day.

So Here I Am

Bracing for a week in June without them. Knowing it will be hard, knowing it will be okay, and knowing I'll fill the time with things that remind me I'm still here, still whole, still a person worth knowing. And when they come back - sunburned and full of stories and somehow taller - I'll hold them so tight (and I’ll cry for sure).

But for now? I’m going to find myself in the nights without them- the old Molly- she’s in there. If anyone is going through separation or divorce please reach out to me.

And for every mom who felt the guilt (of not being with their kids) before the relief — it gets easier. You're allowed to enjoy it.