The Book for the Mom Who Has It All Together. Except on Thursday Nights.

It was a Thursday.

My husband was working his third fourteen-hour shift in a row.

I was alone with the kids.

Again.

I'd put them in the bath.

Added bubbles.

Tried to be the good mom.

By the time I needed them out of the tub, I'd asked nicely about eleven times.

And then I became someone I didn't recognize.

I don't need to tell you what happened next.

If you're a mom, you already have your own version of this night.

The version where your voice comes out at a volume that scares even you.

The version you replay at 2 AM wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

The version you'd never post about.

I ended up on the bathroom floor.

Soaking wet.

Surrounded by bubbles that had trailed down the hallway like evidence.

Both kids crying in their rooms.

Me crying harder.

Then I heard my son's little wet feet come running down the hall.

He stopped just close enough to yell four words that broke me open:

"Please don't hurt us."

I was a happiness coach.

I helped women shift their mindset and find more fulfillment.

And my own kids were afraid of me.

That was the night I stopped pretending I had it figured out.

I went into my daughter's room, sat on the floor, and got real with my kids for the first time.

I took 100% responsibility.

Not for the bath.

For the months of overwhelm I'd been hiding under a smile.

I wrote this book so you wouldn't have to hit the same floor to find your way back up.