Tag: mom

Printable Affirmation for Moms | Our Bond Is Stronger Than Any Tide

Hand-drawn printable affirmation art of mother and child with sun, moon, and waves — emotional support for overwhelmed moms.

My kids are older now. I’ve long moved past the stage of yelling. Through years of learning and reflection, I’ve softened. I still scold my kids when needed, but never in the uncontrolled way I used to when I was younger and overwhelmed. That part of me has grown quieter. But the memory? It still lives somewhere inside me, not to shame me, but to remind me of how far I’ve come.

I remember one particular moment when I yelled at my daughter. This happened many years ago. Later that evening, I sat on the edge of the bed, silent. My hands remained tightly clenched. My throat still raw. And my heart? That was the worst part. It stung with guilt and regret I’d experienced too often. When I saw her small shoulders shake, I wanted to swallow every hurtful word and undo my mistakes. But, of course, that’s not how time works.

I remembered a post I wrote not long ago, This Is Not the Mother I Meant to Be. Those words came from the same place where this printable affirmation was born: a dull aching between failure and love, a desperate desire to do better, to be more patient, to un-yell the things we shouted when we were too exhausted or too raw.

This new art piece—Our Bond Is Stronger Than Any Tide—came from reading late-night Reddit posts written by exhausted mothers. Posts full of remorse and shameful confessions. Most of these women probably didn’t need guidance. They just needed someone to sit next to them and say, “I know. I was there too.”

In the illustration, I drew a mother and child surrounded by waves. Above them, the sun and moon coexist, as if to indicate that both light and shadow belong together. It was my way of acknowledging that we all have both. The love that rocks us, and the exhaustion that drags us down. There are days we sing, and there are days we snap. And still, our bond endures. It may be bruised and tender. But never broken.

I wanted this printable affirmation to serve as a comforting presence in someone’s home. Not in a Pinterest-perfect way, but in the way love still finds its way in—despite the irritation, despite the frustration.

We don’t talk enough about these moments. When we talk about motherhood, we often focus on the good things while ignoring the difficult ones that come with a lot of guilt. The moments when we despise ourselves for our tone, for slamming doors, for causing disconnection when all we wanted was to connect. We show up for our kids with snacks, schedules, and crafts, but we sometimes forget to show up for ourselves. We forget that we are human, too.

And this is what I want this piece to convey: You are not alone. You are not defined by your worst moment. You are a mother, and that is the most human thing of all.

If you’ve ever whispered apologies through the crack of a bedroom door…

If you’ve sobbed in the bathroom, wondering why your patience never seems to last…

If you’ve ever thought, “This is not the mother I was meant to be”…

Then I hope that this printable affirmation for moms speaks to you.

Because our bond with our children isn’t defined by one bad day. Or even a hundred. It’s shaped by the “rhythm of return”: the apologies, the “I love yous,” the bedtime cuddles even after chaos.

Our Bond Is Stronger Than Any Tide is now available in my Etsy shop, Olivia’s Atelier. You can print this motherhood affirmation for your desk, your mirror, your journal, or your wall. Let it be a companion and a reminder. A safe place to land when everything else feels hard.

Because you, mom, are still growing and changing. And love? It never stops trying.

Explore the art here: Printable Affirmation – Our Bond Is Stronger Than Any Tide
© 2025 Olivia JD

The Hour After Midnight | Why I Stayed Awake When I Should’ve Slept

For years, I stayed up too late.

It wasn’t because I was working or I had boundless energy or I was busy chasing my dreams. The main reason was that I needed to feel like a person.

It didn’t start as revenge bedtime procrastination. That phrase only found me later, when I stumbled across an article that put a name to my nightly rebellion. It felt like intense desperation. You could say it was a craving or a desperate fight for space.

When my children were small, the days blended together in a mist of needs. I remember those years vividly and if I’m honest, it makes me shudder, but not because I feel ashamed. My daily life was full of milk-stained shirts, sticky fingers, and toys scattered like confetti across every surface. I loved my kids fiercely. Still do. But in those days, I didn’t know where I ended and they began. I gave them my body, my attention, and everything. And somewhere in that giving, I began to disappear.

When the kids were finally asleep and when the house finally went quiet, and the dishes were done, I sat down. Just for a moment, just to breathe.

And that moment stretched beyond what I intended. I stayed up. Scrolling. Reading. Writing. Wandering through Facebook memories of the woman I used to be. Buying time I couldn’t afford, just to feel like I still existed.

I’d tell myself, “Just one more post. One more chapter. One more scroll.”

But truthfully? I was afraid that if I slept, I’d wake up and do it all over again. The endless giving, pouring out myself and forgetting.

So I kept stealing those hours after midnight.

And in the morning, of course, I paid the price.

I was more irritable. More short-tempered. More ashamed of the mother I was becoming.

The irony was painful: I stayed up to save myself, but it only made me more fragile the next day.

I never told anyone how much I resented the way my life had shrunk. How much I missed myself and how ashamed I felt for even feeling that way.

That was the case until I began writing about it.

That’s how The Hour After Midnight came to life. It began as fragments and eventually evolved into a complete poem. A piece of me, speaking directly to the woman I used to be. Perhaps I still am that woman, but these days I go to bed at 12 AM or earlier. As the kids grow, I enjoy my sleep more, and the resentment has disappeared.

This poem is about a mother who gives her all and suffers in silence. It’s about a woman who craves stillness to survive her crazy life of constant giving. She was just a tired soul who wanted to feel seen.

If that sounds like you, I hope this poem wraps around you like a quiet hug. It’s more than a printable; it’s a recognition and a mirror. A gentle piece of emotional support for any overstimulated mom who needs a reminder to be kind to your mind.

This digital poem makes a thoughtful and unique Mother’s Day gift, especially for the tired mom who needs to hear she’s still enough. It’s a beautiful affirmation of motherhood for those navigating revenge bedtime procrastination, mom life burnout, and those quiet moments where you whisper, “I am enough.”

Find The Hour After Midnight in my shop Olivia’s Atelier. You’ll receive a high-resolution poem print in multiple sizes, ready to frame or gift. I hope it brings you what it brought me—a pause, a breath, a beginning.

Note: Yes, I launched my Etsy shop recently to share my poems with the world. Right now, everything in the shop is 50% off until June 2, including our featured Mother’s Day Poem Printables. They are designed as heartfelt gifts or tender self-reminders to moms everywhere. Feel free to check it out.