Alexis Palmer (2026)

13/08/2026

Anxiety is not being able to breathe. But it's also a 2 a.m. shower, a rash with no explanation, and a phone call to your sister three hours before her alarm goes off — just so your mind has somewhere else to go. It's waking up from a dead sleep because your heart won't stop racing. It's questioning your faith: how could my Creator let me feel this way? It's crying real, painful tears over things that may or may not even be real. It's nausea. It's shaking you can't control. It's snapping at the smallest thing, then fighting with your spouse even though you're not actually mad at them. It's flashbacks. It's "what if." It's someone asking "what's wrong?" and all you can say is "I don't know." Anxiety is crippling. It's dark. It's raw. It's real. And it's exhausting in ways that are both physical and emotional, every single day. Your feelings matter. Being bothered by something others aren't doesn't make you crazy, or weak, or broken. Some of the most successful people you know carry this same weight. This isn't your fault. This isn't the end of your story. You are strong. You are intelligent. You are brave. You are worthy. If you ever need someone to talk to, please don't hesitate to reach out. I will never, ever be upset if you make me your 2 a.m. phone call. Let this reach more hearts.

13/08/2026

I am the keeper. The keeper of schedules — practices, games, lessons, projects, parties, dinners, appointments, and homework. The keeper of information — who needs a snack before a meltdown, who needs space when he’s angry, whether the bills are paid, the laundry is clean, and if we’re out of milk. I am the keeper of solutions. Band-Aids, sewing kits, snacks in my purse — and the invisible ones too: comfort, reassurance, safety. I am the keeper of preferences. Likes and dislikes. Bedtime routines. Food aversions. I am the keeper of reminders. Be kind. Pick up your trash. Do your homework. Say thank you. Hold the door. I am the keeper of rituals and memories. Pumpkin patches. Easter egg hunts. The one who takes the pictures, saves the ornaments, writes the letters. I am the keeper of emotional security. The one who soothes fears, navigates moods, holds secrets, and absorbs worries. I am the keeper of the peace. The mediator. The translator. The one who keeps everyone from falling apart. I am the keeper of worry. Theirs — and my own. Most days, the weight of what I carry feels light. It gives me purpose. It keeps me going. But some days, it pulls me under. Because all of it lives in my head — constant, invisible, never quiet. Unnoticed until something is forgotten. Taken for granted until it’s missing. My husband and my boys are kind. They love me deeply. And this is the greatest job I’ve ever had. But being the Keeper can be exhausting. Because sometimes it feels like you’re carrying it all alone. So to every Keeper out there — I see you. I see the invisible work. The unmeasured effort. The quiet labor that holds everything together. And I salute you.

12/08/2026

To my daughter, Don’t apologize when someone else bumps into you. Don’t say, “sorry to be such a pain.” You’re not a pain. You’re a person with thoughts and feelings who deserves respect. Don’t make up reasons as to why you can’t go out with a guy you don’t wanna go out with. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. A simple “no thanks” should be acceptable. Don’t overthink what you eat in front of people. If you’re hungry, eat, and eat what you want. If you want pizza, don’t get a salad just because other people are around. Order the damn pizza. Don’t keep your hair long to make someone else happy. Don’t wear a dress if you don’t want to. Don’t stay home because you don’t have anyone to go out with. Take yourself out. Have experiences by yourself and for yourself. Don’t hold back your tears. Crying means you’re feeling something that needs to get out. It’s not a weakness. It’s being human. Don’t smile because someone told you to. Don’t be afraid to laugh at your own jokes. Don’t say “yes” to be polite. Say “no” because it’s your life. Don’t hide your opinions. Speak up and speak loudly. You should be heard. Don’t apologize for being who you are. Be brave and bold and beautiful. Be unapologetically you.

12/08/2026

Here I am on vacation away from my kids (who I absolutely love to death but sometimes you need a break from toddlers) and I'm flying with an infant on my lap. Why? Because I'm a decent human being. Listen..... it takes a village to raise kids, ok? And as a mom of a 3 year old and 4 year old, I KNOW this. And I also know that toddlers can be jerks...... so first let me just tell you what happened. I boarded my flight today at 5:45am in Seattle. Alaskan Airlines flight 674, and I sat down in the middle seat. I sit down and there are some weight issues with the plane that need to be checked out. So everyone is sitting in this full packed plane. And a baby starts crying (oh God forbid, right?) Obviously I'm totally used to crying and whining, so I tune it out. Everyone around me starts huffing and puffing and mumbling. Then...... I hear 2 kids crying. This lady has her toddler having a full blown melt down over her seatbelt being on (toddlers are dramatic, that's nothing new). No problem..... I have mom powers and totally ignore it...... BUT what I CAN'T ignore is this. I hear a woman complaining to this mother (that's alone with 2 crying kids) that her child needs to stop kicking her seat. THEN I hear the mother say, "she's 3, I can't believe you just did that." Apparently the lady reached behind her and grabbed the child's leg (aka "oh hell no"). While this is happening the freaking flight attendant is just standing there...... listening. Not even doing anything. And the older men beside me make remarks like, "obviously her way of discipline isn't working," so I reply with, "she's probably afraid to do anything... you can't do anything anymore," and they stopped talking. Ok, back to the lady in the back. You guys.... this is a full plane.... and I sat here for 15 mins waiting on someone closer to this woman to offer her help... because I'm surrounded by caring adults, right? (Wrong) I turn around to see people mumbling and staring at this mother with her THREE kids ALONE.... a screaming toddler / crying baby / and a very well behaved older child. (One grown woman was holding her hands on her ears.) SO.... being a decent human being I couldn't take letting this mother drown back there.... (and let me tell you she was being so freaking calm you guys.... like I would have already been crying but she was doing so good) I get up out of my seat, go a few rows back, and go ask her if she needs help; she immediately handed me her baby. (This lady was like HOLY HELL YESSSSSSSS!) So ya know I take her baby and then I have to go sit down for take off....... the crying stopped (it's a miracle ) so I'm sitting here holding this precious baby that so happens to fall asleep (swooooon). My point???? Be nice and considerate. If someone needs help, for God's sake HELP THEM. Complaining and mumbling doesn't do a thing except make the person that needs help feel worse (words hurt)........ How we can ignore a human in distress? Please be kind. Please be considerate. Help one another... it makes everything easier. I promise you won't die.

12/08/2026

E.R. nurses are a different kind of creature. We condition ourselves to roll with the punches... no matter how brutal... you roll. Somebody's life depends on it. Our eyes see the unfathomable... sights that would keep a 'normal' person awake at night... but we roll. We condition ourselves to not feel it... not take life too seriously... we know how fragile and brief it is... we are reminded every time we swipe that time clock... every time... and we roll. I picked a young lady up off the floor this morning after she walked out of the room where her daddy died. She dropped to her knees... she wailed... she cried out for her dad... and without batting an eye, I knelt beside her and helped her the best way I could... death had won again. We become numb... our hearts don't feel things like the hearts who are protected from this type of consistent and repeated defeat... we cope... and maybe too well. Maybe we come off as cold and emotionally unavailable. Maybe we aren't approachable. We come off a little bossy... because we have to be good patient advocates... to be the person our patient needs. Be patient with the ER nurse/EMS/PD/FD in your life. Your eyes have not seen what theirs have. You haven't felt it... you haven't battled death as much and as hard as they have. You could never see their world through their eyes... because if they love you... they wouldn't want you to... they will protect you from it. Be patient and kind with your ER nurse... you never know what battlefield they just walked off of.

12/08/2026

I'd like to give a shout out to all my fellow hot mess school moms. The ones that let their child out at the drop off line and yesterday morning’s breakfast wrapper rolls out with them. The moms that haven't been able to find the floor board of their vehicles since August 1st of last year. The moms that just found that homework assignment they were supposed to sign while cleaning out their cars. The moms that tell the teachers the endless pile of soda cans from the entire year are only there because they are teaching their kids about recycling. The moms that jump out quickly at the pickup line to get their child so they can maneuver the entire pile of the school year’s special projects to the side. To the moms still trying to find where that smell in the truck is coming from that started sometime after August 1st. To the moms that live inside their cars four times a day, five days a week and don't have time to clean up that mess, they just move it over. To the moms that pull up to the drop off line with a minute to spare and hear everything in their vehicle shift as they slam on the brakes because breakfast, snacks, school projects and emergency toys while waiting in the pickup line pile up fast y'all. To the moms that really aren't sure where some of the stuff even came from. May we know them, may we love them, may we confess we've all been one, may we promise to look the other way when we see one and not mom shame and may we all know we are doing the best we can even when our car looks a hot mess like us.

12/08/2026

We went to a new church because our oldest son was speaking about his camp experience. The church dismissed for children’s church, and I walked my three youngest back to the meeting room for children. As we walked in the room, there were four tables set up filled with kids. The minute we walked inside, the room became silent and every child stared or pointed at my son, Joel. Joel was born with a cranio-facial impairment. He is missing an ear and some bone structure. I know he looks different, but today hurt. I stood at the door and watched every child look with eyes wide and mouths open at my child. I stepped in and was about to address the entire class about differences, but then I stopped. I stopped and looked to the back of the room where my son had fled to hide. He had buried his head in his arms because you cannot hide in plain sight. My heart sank and the room remained silent as I walked back to Joel. I touched his shoulder and he raised eyes shiny with tears and a face red with shame. I knelt down and asked, “Do you want to leave?” “Yes,” he whispered, and he stood and ran from the room. I held him in my arms during church and he drew “Joel loves Mom” on my palm. Tears welled in my throat. My beautiful and loving son deserves so much more than stares and pointing. And I thought about what I didn’t do in that room today. In the past, I have always stepped into the role of teacher to educate kids. This has happened before, and I would step in and talk about differences, but today I did not. Today, I did not teach someone else’s kid because I was too busy holding my broken-hearted son. So I ask all parents this: teach your children. Teach your children that many people look different. Show them pictures of people who look different. And then explain that it is not okay to stare at someone that looks different. It’s not okay to point. Teach them that my boy is the same on the inside as your child is. He loves Dodge Ram trucks and Minecraft and digging in the dirt. He loves ketchup but does not love broccoli. And mostly, he does not like people staring or pointing out that he looks different. I don’t think he needs this pointed out; it’s something he lives with every day. I am not angry. I do not think these were bad, mean children. I think no one has ever taught them. And so this post is asking you to take a moment tonight and talk about what to do when you see someone that looks different. Show them pictures of people with different colored skin, different eyes, different abilities to talk, walkers to walk, wheelchairs to roll. Show them children with no hair, without an ear, without an arm. Take a moment and share all kinds of different. Now teach your child that a beautiful person is found with the heart, not the eyes.

12/08/2026

Hey there Mama,

I just wanted to let you know something. I'm betting you have tucked in your kiddos for the night and are enjoying some quiet moments before bed just like me. Or maybe you went to bed long ago. Or possibly you're up with a tiny baby sleepily trudging through late night feeds. Maybe you have a sick little one in your bed with you, or maybe you're just doing the dishes and cleaning up from the day before you collapse into bed exhausted and completely worn from the day. Wherever you're at and whatever you're doing, I want you to know I'm praying for you.

And I'm praying for her.

See... somewhere in your home tonight there's a sweet little princess that is your world. She may be the sweetest little girl or she may be a bit sassy. She may have tested your patience, frustrated you, and challenged you today. And no doubt you tucked her in just like any other night with kisses and hugs. I want you to know that I think of you.

And I think of her.

Because you see, while you buy barbies or dolls, I buy trucks and balls. While you paint fingernails, I scrub dirt from under them.

While you raise your princess, I raise my prince.

And one day... they are going to find each other.
And then I'll finally meet you.
And I'll meet her.
She will be the one to take my boy away. She will occupy his heart and be his best girl. And I'll watch him build a life for her. And it will be beautiful. You know how I know?

Because I'm raising my son to be a good man. I'm teaching him to love, to appreciate, to be humble, and affectionate. I'm teaching him that she's a princess and worthy of being spoiled. I'm teaching him to put others first and to easily forgive. I'm teaching him there are consequences to his actions and that he must learn to be sorry. My son will grow up and know how to honor his girl, because he's already doing it with me.

He tells me I'm beautiful.
He kisses me to see my face light up.
He opens doors for me.
He lets me go first.
He shares with me.
He compliments me.
He holds the dust pan for me.

I'm teaching him to be a Prince for your Princess. Because your daughter deserves the very best. So please know that as she grows into the woman she's meant to be, he's getting ready for her. I strive daily to teach my son to be the man that you would want for her, the man that God wants him to be.

So you keep raising her. Keep playing, laughing, loving, making memories. And don't fret about her future. Because one day our babies will be grown and you will pass yours off to mine and she will be safe and loved. He will hold the dust pan for her, because she deserves that and so much more.

12/08/2026

My secondborn baby,

I have to tell you the truth.
One day you’ll probably ask me
about why everything wasn’t
bright, shiny, and
new
for you.

And when you ask me,
I will tell you the truth:
the truth about
the hand-me-downs,
the caffeine and soft cheese
during pregnancy,
my lack of a birth plan
and weekly bump photos;
the fact that I didn’t wait
with bated breath
for every single milestone.
The difficult truths,
like the fact that
you had to cry more,
wait more,
share more.
The fact that I,
your mama,
was often not the best version of myself.

But dear, sweet secondborn,
let me also tell you this.

The truth is,
before you were born,
I doubted the infinity of love,
and yet
the moment they placed you in my arms,
cocooned in blankets,
with your button nose and scrunched-up lips,
eyes firmly shut and so new to this world,
it’s as if
I grew
a whole new heart
just for you.

The truth is,
darling girl,
it was you who taught me
to really believe
that despite the guilt, the worry,
the urgent need to be everything to everyone,
that in fact, I am enough as I am.
Yes, I was already someone’s mother
when you came into my life,
but you made me
a better one.

And so, the truth is,
dear secondborn,
when one day you start to wonder why
things were different when you came along,
know this, my love:

I never knew
how much my heart could hold
until I held you;
how you weren’t an addition,
but a piece that was missing;
and how now that a year has passed,
after everything we’ve been through,
the love and joy
you have brought
makes me feel
bright,
shiny,
and new
every day. 💛

12/08/2026

This is me. Right now. Trying not to pull my hair out. I have been trying to finish the laundry I started yesterday and do the dishes (we don't have a dishwasher because I AM THE DISHWASHER.) My oldest son is bouncing off the walls (literally, there is a frigging dent in the wall), my middle wild child just bonked his head while spelunking in the linen closet and now has an ice pack on his developing egg, and the baby - pictured here - is either starting to teethe or is testing out the theory that if she screams loud enough and for long enough that I will actually cry. CRY. Getting anything done in this house is dizzying. I haven't showered, eaten, or even gotten dressed for that matter and it's already after 2pm. And you know what? I don't feel blessed in this moment. I feel frustrated and tired. But that's what parenting is, right? It's this crazy journey that is mostly rewarding but pock marked by crappy days like this one. These are the if-it-doesnt-kill-you kind of days. I file these moments away in my heart for when I need to remind myself that I am only one person. Like every other mom, I am trying my best to do this right. And I totally screw it up at least a dozen times a day. I won't ever color neatly inside the lines of motherhood, but I love my kids with all my heart. And right now while the sink is full of dirty dishes, at least one kid is whining, and I smell faintly of p*e and spit up (don't ask) that big feeling of love is all I got. And I call that a win.

Alexis Palmer

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