The Unhurried Mama

You start something for yourself, and then you get pulled away. You think it means something about you. Prove to yourself that you can return. Take seven minutes, keep your eyes open. This works with the kids around and there’s no need to lie down. Send this to the one mom in your life who needs to know stopping isn’t a character flaw. Subscribe for show notes, free meditations, and the writing be...

My son pulls the dining table chair under the ceiling anchor to reach a ring he’s less than two inches short of. I resist the urge to get up and solve his problem. He figures it out himself—and then asks me to do the rest. The last room of The Unhurried House: finishing isn’t the point; it’s a practice. We talk about the three chapters I wrote in 116 days, the nine I wrote in 17, and the finished...

A fight breaks out between the kids and I’m jumping to verdicts before I’ve even heard the whole story. I swing back and forth between too much give and not enough, mostly with my daughter. But it’s what I do to myself, too. The tender room of The Unhurried House: how I’m choosing to show up. We talk about how I’m paying forward what I never received and why the verdict I hand my daughter is the p...

Do you do 3 things at once between bites of your meal? You give all day and receive nothing in return. A slow, unhurried meditation for you if you pour into others and sometimes forget to pour into you. With a hand on your heart, you can receive love and care. Your body has been caring for you your whole life without you doing a thing. Send this to the one mom in your life who needs a reminder to...

My mom’s been gone for 15 years, and when I look at a photo of her, I feel guilty that what comes up isn't grief; it's relief. Relief that I can stop reaching for a bond that was never built. The deepest room of The Unhurried House: where I come from. We talk about the four mothers who raised me and the grief I buried for the one who gave me the most. I’m finally sitting in it. Send this to the on...

I once flew across the world to ask a Balinese shaman what to do with my life. He told me to trust—that it would come. I was too busy trying on everyone else’s life to hear him. Room 5 of The Unhurried House: the borrowed self. We talk about the strangers’ scripts I wore after my mom died, the book I couldn’t write until it was finally mine, and how the borrowing never really stopped—it just chang...

You finally sit down, and your body's already halfway back up. A short meditation for the pull to keep doing and the itch to get up the second you stop. We stay awake, sit with the urge, and let it pass like a wave. You'll leave with a practice you can use anywhere the pull finds you. Send this to a mom who you know has a hard time sitting down. Subscribe for show notes, free meditations, and the...

I jolted awake at 12:36 in the afternoon, under the blanket my daughter knitted me, laptop dark against my leg, heart pounding in my ears. I’d fallen asleep without meaning to—while researching why I was so tired. For a year, I’d told myself the exhaustion was just how it is now. Then a walk-in doctor told me the same thing. Room 4 of The Unhurried House: the body we override. We talk about the sy...

I have a closet full of clothes I never wear. 70% of my wardrobe is hand-me-downs, and I reach past the nice clothes for a “future self.” What am I saving myself for? Room 3 of The Unhurried House: the saving room. We talk about the closet full of clothes I never let myself wear, the good reasons that always end with me last, and what it took to finally take my turn. Full show notes Send this to t...

This is the pause before asking yourself who’s been waiting for you. The first meditation of Season 2—a 10-minute reset to help you return to yourself and stand at the door of one of the rooms in your house of motherhood. Which room are you walking past? The Unhurried Mama drops new episodes every other Monday and monthly meditations during the season. Walk with me by subscribing to updates in you...

On the bus ride home from the dentist, my 8-year-old asked one question: "Are the fillings going to hurt?" Days later, an Instagram Reel told me I shouldn't have shared the cost with him at all. Room 2 of the motherhood house: the perfect-mom facade. Full show notes Send this to the one mom in your life who needs the room you just walked through. The Unhurried Mama drops new episodes every other M...

Some days, I wish I weren’t a mom. I have never said it publicly until now. You might want headphones or to listen alone. This season, I’m walking into the house of motherhood as a daughter of four mothers. I’m walking in first. Full show notes Send this to the one mom in your life who needs the room you just walked through. The Unhurried Mama drops new episodes every other Monday and monthly medi...

My twelve-year-old wandered into the kitchen while I was chopping vegetables and watched me for a beat. Then she said, almost to herself: You seem more relaxed. Like, in general. Compared to a few years ago. She could see it from two feet away, whereas I had been too close to notice. This is the season finale and the real version of how I got here. I don’t open with wisdom. It starts in a bathtub...

I was nine years old when I asked for a ring at a Pow Wow. It was a little play thing, probably 50 cents, that sat in a foam slot in a plain box. It caught the light just enough to make me feel like a princess. I asked for it the way a child asks before they’ve learned to shrink their wants down to something more acceptable. She bought me the ring. That night, my mother made me give it back. I did...

You know the girl you were before the world got loud? The one before you learned to make yourself smaller, to move at everyone else’s pace, and to be so good at the “showing up” that you forgot she was still in there? The one who is unhurried. She is still in there. She just went silent for a while because that’s what happens when no one comes. But she has been holding a place for you this whole t...

My kids were supposed to be writing about eagles. They were playing thumb war instead. And I was standing in the kitchen, breathing shallow, running a mental list, every cell in my body pointing at the to-do list, when my nine-year-old walked over, took my arms, and led me through a breath like she’d been doing it her whole life. Maybe she had. Children are born knowing things we spend decades try...

She wanted screen time. I said not until the math was done. What followed was heavy sighs, three trips down the hallway, and more math than I probably should have done for her. But the boundary held. And the next morning, without me asking, she came back and told me exactly what she'd been doing. You can also listen and follow on Spotify or Apple. The Unhurried Mama drops new episodes every Monday...

My son wouldn't go upstairs alone. Every night for weeks he was stalling, hovering, and refusing. And of course, I had a story about why. Then one night, I actually asked him. What he said was so unexpectedly tender that it made me want to laugh at myself and completely changed the way I see behaviour. What's underneath the defiance you're most tired of is almost never what you think. If you've ev...

My daughter spat at her brother. I charged in, took away the thing she loved most, and she slammed her door, screaming, "I hate you!" Later, I found what she had done. Rather than continuing in anger, I sat on the hallway floor and stopped seeing my failure. I still think about the five words she said today. We talk about why the consequences given in the flood are really punishment in disguise, w...

You've been holding it together all day, but you don't have to anymore. This one is just for you: a gentle body-scan meditation for the mother who needs to be held, for a change. You can also listen and follow on Spotify or Apple . The Unhurried Mama drops new episodes every Monday during the season. Stay up to date with what’s coming next by subscribing. New episodes, meditations, and reflections...

My nine-year-old walked into my office shaking, convinced we’d have to move house. What came out over the next 97 minutes on my lap changed the way I understand what it means to hold space for your child, and why you can’t offer what you don’t have. This is the episode about what co-regulation looks like, and the sentence my son said that I will carry for the rest of my life. You can also listen a...

“ Mama, I cleaned up the mess.” His voice was so small. This is the repair: the knock, the hug, and the ugly cry. And the second rupture I didn’t see coming: the piano, the flashback, the moment I heard my father’s voice in mine and had to let go of the thing I thought made me a good mother. You can also listen and follow on Spotify or Apple . The Unhurried Mama drops new episodes every Monday dur...

We were already late. The bowl tipped, and the last of the coconut milk spilled all over the floor. And I snapped. This is the story of what happened next: the shame spiral, the bathroom floor, and the moment I heard a knock I wasn’t ready for. Your blow-ups aren’t character flaws; they’re biology. I introduce the window of tolerance, what it means to notice you’re leaving it, and how to start com...

This is the first episode of The Unhurried Mama . I'm Michelle, and I'm launching this podcast on my daughter's 12th birthday because she's the reason I started asking: What does it mean to parent from a nervous system that isn't running? The choice I made that changed everything—saying yes to homeschool—the tornado years that followed, and the question I'm still sitting in: What am I trying to ou...