I want to be honest about something: nobody claps for motherhood. Not the real parts, anyway. Nobody throws confetti when you finally get all three kids to nap at the same time. Nobody gives you a trophy for talking a toddler down from a meltdown in the grocery store while your tea gets cold in the car. (Yes, tea. Coffee and I were never meant to be.) The wins of motherhood are quiet. And for a long time, I didn't count them at all. I was too busy measuring my days by what I

I used to think faith meant having a plan. Like, a real plan. The kind with timelines and spreadsheets and backup options for the backup options. I'd pray, make my list, and then wait for God to hand me the whole map before I moved. I'm learning that obedience doesn't always look like a map. Sometimes it looks like one small step. Have you ever stood at a crossroads where you knew staying put wasn't it, but moving felt terrifying because you couldn't see where the road went?

There was a season when cooking felt like self-care. I'd put on music, chop things slowly, try a new recipe just for fun. I don't remember her. These days, dinner is a math problem I solve at 5 p.m. while standing in front of the fridge, door open, cold air on my face, three kids asking what's for dinner like I planned anything at all. Here's what I'm learning: I kept trying to cook like I had free time, and I don't. And the guilt I carried about it was heavier than the cooki

When I first started Kabsykreations, I priced like my time was free. I'd quote an order, do the math on the ingredients, and quietly absorb everything else … the hours, the back-and-forth messages, the second batch when the first one didn't set right. Somewhere in there I told myself I was "building," so it was fine. It wasn't fine. I was just undercharging with extra steps. 😂 Here's what I'm learning: underpricing doesn't build a business. It builds burnout. And for a whil

My middle baby turns three next week. Three. I keep saying it out loud like my brain needs a few extra tries to believe it. Wasn't she just... smaller? Newer? Falling asleep on my chest like it was her full-time job? Time is doing that thing again where it moves slow and fast at the same time. The days are long — oh, the days are long — but the years are sprinting past me while I'm busy wiping counters. And it's got me thinking about seasons. I have a habit of treating the cu

There was a season where 5pm hit me like a truck. Kids melting down. Nothing thawed. Me staring into the fridge like it was going to apologize. And then the guilt — because I want to feed my family well, but I also don't want to spend my whole day in the kitchen. Sound familiar? I'm learning that the problem was never that I was disorganized. The problem was that I was trying to make dinner decisions at the hardest hour of the day, with three small humans hanging on my legs.

Honestly? Some days I feel like I'm running a small, very loud startup out of my kitchen. Three kids. Ages 1, 2, and 4. One cake business. A calendar that never stops. And me, drinking tea I forgot about two hours ago. People ask me how I do it all, and I never know what to say. Because the truth is, I don't. Not all of it. Not well. Not at the same time. What I actually do is pick the three things that matter today and let the rest wait. Some days that's a morning full of tr

Finding Joy in the Everyday Hustle I used to think I needed the “right moment” to cook or bake. You know, that perfect scenario with a quiet house, empty counters, and everyone settled. But as a mom of three, with one always needing me in the most immediate way, that moment rarely comes! 😅 My kitchen doesn’t pause for perfection. It hums with life. Someone’s always hungry again, or someone wants a snack that’s not the one I just offered. A baby is nursing on one side while I