College Visits Hit Different When Your Kid Has Food Allergies

It’s one thing to be in the season of college visits — that alone is rough.
But it’s another thing to realize your kid with severe food allergies may be going to school hours away.

The first college visit — close to home — didn’t hit me that hard.
It felt exciting, manageable, safe.

The second one — five hours away — that’s when it hit me.
ALL the fears came rushing in — especially the ones related to his food allergies and this next chapter of college life.

Because my brain goes straight to:

• Will he remember to carry his EpiPen everywhere?

• Will he always tell the server at a restaurant?

• Will the dining hall take his allergies seriously?

• Will his roommate respect his allergies?

• And this one sounds silly, but it’s legit — when he meets a random girl at a party, will he remember he can’t just kiss anyone… because what they ate that day matters?

We’ve spent 13 years managing Mason’s tree nut + sesame allergy (since his first reaction that led to the diagnosis in 2012).

Reading and rereading labels.
Choosing “safe” vacations.
Finding local restaurants we can trust.
Packing backup snacks — just in case.
Explaining that tree nuts are not peanuts (yes… this happens).
Double-checking the planned food anytime he’s not with us.

An EpiPen always in reach.
Aaron or I always close by.

But the thought of him being that far away — where I can’t just get to him if he needs me —
it’s like losing a layer of protection… one that I can’t control.

Yeah, that’s when it all caught up to me Friday night.
I cried just speaking my fears out loud to Aaron at dinner.

When you’re a mom of a child with a severe food allergy, this isn’t just about a college decision.
It’s about letting go.

About trusting that all the years of teaching, reminding, and preparing… will carry him when we can’t.

So if you’re a mom:
Navigating college visits
Sending your kid off with allergies
Or in your feels because “five hours away” suddenly feels like five million…
I see you.

And if you’re a food allergy mom whose kid is already away at school —
share all the tips on how you sleep at night.
I have a feeling I’m gonna need them.

The Gold Star Lie: Why Doing It All Is Burning You Out

Maybe instead of giving ourselves gold stars for carrying the weight of everything, we should start asking why we think we have to in the first place.

We’ve been sold this lie that running on fumes and still showing up for everyone else is some kind of badge of honor.

The one that says if you’re the last one standing at the end of the day — kids fed, inbox cleared, to-do list checked, smile still plastered on — you’ve somehow “won.”

It’s not strength.
It’s not resilience.
It’s burnout disguised as supermom.

And I get it — I’ve done it too.

When I was in corporate, I spent more hours trying to prove my worth than actually living my life.
It felt like a proving grounds daily - be the first one in the office and the last one to leave or ALWAYS be on if a client or someone on your team emails you — it was a miserable way to try to “prove your value” in the company.

And even when I got home (or closed my office door when I worked from home), it didn’t stop.
It felt like Groundhog Day — work, pick up my kids, throw something together for dinner, try to “make memories” in our spare time and be a good mom… then collapse into bed just to wake up and do it all again.

I made ZERO time for me.
Just an endless loop of doing, proving, and pretending I was fine.

Many of us think that’s just what being a “good” mom and wife looks like.

We tell ourselves we have to.
For our kids.
For our job.
For the people who “need” us.

(Umm, hi… WE need US. 🫶🏼)

So we keep going.
We keep juggling.
We keep pretending we’re okay, even when we’re one coffee away from crying in the Target parking lot.

Here’s what I finally learned after years of running on caffeine and resentment:

Your worth isn’t tied to how much you do.
You don’t earn it by saying yes when you want to say no.
You don’t increase it by being the one who always shows up, fixes things, or smooths everything over.

You already have it — simply because you exist.
(And for the record, I’m still unlearning this too — catching those old beliefs when they sneak back in.)

When you stop trying to prove your worth, something powerful happens:
You create space to live by your values instead of everyone else’s expectations.

You stop performing and start being.
You stop managing everyone else’s emotions and start paying attention to your own.
You start remembering what it feels like to actually enjoy your life — not just survive it.

The goal isn’t to stop showing up for people.
It’s to stop showing up for everything.

You can still be a loving mom, partner, friend, and human — without doing it all.
In fact, you’ll show up better when you’re not stretched so damn thin.

You can:
💁🏼‍♀️ Say no without guilt.
💁🏼‍♀️ Rest without feeling lazy.
💁🏼‍♀️ Take care of yourself and the people you love — without losing yourself in the process.

If you’re reading this thinking, “Okay, but how do I even start?” — start small.
Ask yourself:

• What’s one thing I’m doing out of guilt or habit that I don’t actually want to do?

• What would change if I stopped trying to keep up with everyone else?

• What do I actually need — not what’s expected of me, not what I should need, but what I genuinely need right now?

Then — take one thing off your plate this week.
Say no to something that doesn’t feel like a yes.
Let the laundry sit another day.
Use your kids sports practice as time for yourself (no, you don’t need to sit there).
Order the damn pizza.

You’re not failing — you’re freeing yourself.

Because the real flex isn’t proving you can handle it all.
It’s knowing when to stop pushing.
When to rest.
When to say, “Not today.”

The peace you’re craving is not in doing more. It’s in the letting go.

If this hit a little close to home, you’re not alone.
This is the exact work I do with my clients — helping women stop proving, start prioritizing what actually matters, and create lives that feel good from the inside out.
Because the goal isn’t to do more. It’s to feel more like you.

Channeling My Future Self: Coaching + Cocktails Edition

Story time!!! With a lesson of course.

I hosted my second Coaching + Cocktails Workshop last night. The previous one was a year ago…my intention was to do them quarterly but to be 100% honest, I got in my own way (even though I’ve hosted workshops on behalf of other people in between then and now…silly brain).

The first one was a topic near and dear to my heart—your inner critic and learning tools to turn the volume down on her. This time around, the topic was Tapping into Your Future Self.

And honestly, this isn’t just something I use for workshops. I use this Future Self work in so many parts of my life—how I show up as a parent, how I take care of myself, and how I make decisions that feel good long term instead of just in the moment.

I also use this work with my clients. When they’re stuck in old stories or spinning in “I always quit” or “this is just how I am,” I help them borrow from the version of themselves who’s already figured it out.

That’s not something most of us are taught. We’re taught to look outside ourselves for answers—or we just stay right where we are because we don’t realize what’s possible.

But our Future Self does. She sees what’s on the other side. And when you practice stepping into her—even for a moment—you start making different choices right now that create those possibilities.

And the exact process I taught was what I walked myself through to get me to the other side of the event without letting my brain go into freak out mode and wanting to hide instead of host. Ha!

Because there’s a version of me who has spun in these questions before:

→ “What if no one signs up?”
→ “What if it flops?”
→ “What if I’m not ready?”

And I know where those thoughts lead—because I’ve been her. That version of me has quit before. She panicked. She checked sign-ups every hour. She let the fear and the “what ifs” mean something about her.

But this time I did something different. About two days into planning, when it started to feel “difficult” and I felt “stuck,” I had this moment of like, “Ashley… just ask your Future Self. DUH!”

Hell, I even caught myself almost changing the topic because I thought, “Seriously? You’re teaching this exact topic and you’re not even using it?!” The irony, right?

So after I laughed at myself and got over that little hump, I stepped into my Future Self before the results showed up. I made decisions she would make—from where to host it, to how she would show up that night for the women attending.

When my brain wanted to spiral on the “what ifs,” I asked how she would think instead. When I felt stuck on how to talk about it on social media so women felt the value of being in the room, I asked her.

Because here’s the thing: our Future Self sees possibility where our current self sees stuck.

And if I still felt stuck (because sometimes you do), I leaned on my coach. Because Future Me also knows when she’s in her own head and needs a nudge to get out of it.

I journaled as her. I got clear on how she would show up, how she carried herself, what she was feeling. I closed my eyes and walked myself through the night: driving there, greeting the women, laughing over apps, closing it out and feeling proud—not because it was perfect, but because I followed through.

That practice calmed me down. It gave me something solid to lean on instead of fear.

Here’s the shift:
I had to think, feel, and act like her first.
The results followed after.

My future self wasn’t worried about Coaching + Cocktails. Ok, maybe she was a little BUT she did not let that stop her - that is the difference! She already knew she’d hosted it. She knew this is how she’d connect with amazing women. She knew every event would grow her as a coach and as a human.

And the more I channeled her, the more I made different choices:

1. I put the event out there because my future self would do it without question.

2. When sign-ups slowed down, I didn’t ghost the event. I did what my future self would do, I kept showing up, sharing, and inviting.

3. Old me would’ve spiraled over every empty spot. My future self trusted it was part of the process.

That’s the real power of your future self. She’s the version of you who’s already figured it out—and when you borrow her mindset, you stop recreating the past. You step into possibility and growth.

Because everything is created twice: first in your mind, then in reality.

And last night, I showed up as the Future Me I’ve been practicing. That’s what allowed me to give my best to them. Was my best perfect? F*ck no. But that’s not the point—there’s no pressure to be some flawless version of her. She’s still growing too. What mattered is that tapping into her gave me a level of confidence I never would’ve had otherwise—especially walking women through one of my favorite topics for the first time outside of 1:1 coaching.

The Power of the AND: Making Space for Happiness & Grief in Motherhood

We’ve had many first days around here but this year hits different.

The one who made me a mom is a senior. His last 1st day of HS.
And my baby, is going into middle school, 6th grade.

The older generations try to warn us about how fast time goes when you’re a parent but we don't listen & even if we did, there’s no lesson on the emotional rollercoaster that comes with the "time is a thief" warning.

But then you’re IN IT & things you didn't think would be a big deal suddenly are a big deal..like these milestone moments in their school years.

And you’re like, "where the f*ck did these feelings come from? What is this sensation in my chest? The pit in my stomach?" (Anxiousness & sadness love to take up residence in those places for me when I'm in my feels.)

Here’s what I’ve learned from coaching-if we weren't able to feel the grief that comes with our kids growing up-then we wouldn't be able to feel the immense amount of f*cking joy that has come from being their parent.

As humans, we are lucky enough (although, it doesn't always feel "lucky") to be able to love something or someone so deeply that we also feel the pain of loss. And sometimes that loss looks like our babies growing, hitting milestones, becoming tweens & teens or young adults, going off to college - needing us less & less.

And while we may long for the days when they were little (& maybe slightly less embarrassed by us in public)-we are also proud of who they've become & excited for what lies ahead.

There is this duality that we live with as moms - "I miss when...." AND "I am so excited for...."

And on days like today-when you send your firstborn off to his senior year & your baby off to middle school-that AND hits a little harder.

But when we stop fighting it & just embrace the human experience-ALL the emotions, messy & beautiful-we make space for the AND to simply exist.

All of that to say...I’ve loved (ok, I've also disliked) parts of every season from the last 17 & 11 years of their lives getting to watch them grow into who they are AND I can't wait to see what this season of life brings for my babies.

Happy 1st Day of School.

Xoxo to all the mamas.

I see you.🫶🏼

A Personal Lesson in Mom Guilt

What I do as a coach when my brain tells me all the ways “I wasn’t present enough” when my kids were little.

Having older kids is wild. (So is mom guilt.)
They need you less.
You’re less involved in their “spare” time.
And suddenly your brain has free time to rudely question your parenting:

💭It went by so fast. Did I soak it in enough?

💭I don’t remember all of it, was I present enough?

💭If you were the mom you are today, you’d go back & do it all differently.



Just me?
Cool.

Here’s what I do when my brain tries to sh!t all over past me:


1) Recognize it!
When I ask questions like that, my brain will dig up 1,672 examples of how I supposedly wasn’t present.


Look, I know there’s some truth there, so I can’t just gaslight myself into thinking I was some perfect 🦄 of a parent.

BUT I have to give equal airtime to both sides.
Otherwise, my brain stays stuck in the negative, I feel like crap about myself, & it becomes a whole thing.


So, I listen to what it has to say.


Maybe even validate (ugh, I hate when my brain is right sometimes).

BUT here’s the part we often skip:

FLIPPING THE SCRIPT.


We take one side of what our brain feeds us & believe it’s our only truth… without ever questioning other possibilities.


So flip it!

💭In what ways WAS I present?

💭What are some core memories I have as a mom?

💭How was it exactly as it was meant to be?


When I look at both sides, I can see how both can be true & it instantly lessens the shame + guilt I feel when I only focus on one.

2) I remind myself:

• Dwelling on the negative isn’t useful. But I don’t argue with it either-I accept that maybe there were times I wasn’t fully present, & that’s okay—no one is on 100% of the time.

• Past me was doing the best she could with what she knew. (Sometimes I even remind myself that version of me had to exist for this version of me to be here today.)

• I can find evidence for both stories to be true.
Neither is wrong. But feeding one of these stories leaves me feeling like a big bag of ass.

So I let go of the could’ves, should’ves, would’ves-because they don’t serve me. And I shift my focus.
I decide how I want to show up now in a way future me will be proud of.
Flipping the script has made me more aware & intentional as a mom. I’d call that a win.🫶🏼

Remember: You get to decide which part of the story you give your attention to, so why not make sure it’s one that lets you be proud of the mom you’ve been and the one you’re becoming.