Last night, I had one of those moments—the kind that used to completely unravel me. I was tired. I’d eaten more than I wanted to that day. My body felt uncomfortable and full of that familiar guilt I know too well. But it wasn’t just about food—I’d been carrying a lot emotionally too. I’d uncovered deep truths about myself, about my past, about patterns I’ve lived in for years. It was heavy.
And in the middle of all that, the thought showed up: fruit snacks. That quiet, almost automatic whisper—“Just eat them. You already messed up today anyway.”
And for years, I’ve listened to that voice. I’ve turned to food when things felt too big. Not because I was hungry, but because I didn’t know how else to self-soothe. Not because I didn’t care, but because it felt like the only comfort I had. And I hated that. I hated how fast I could go from tired and overwhelmed to numbing myself with sugar. It always felt like a betrayal—to my body, to my goals, to the version of me that I’m trying to become.
The Pattern I’m Breaking
Usually, the story in my head goes something like this:
“You’ve already messed up today.” “You’re uncomfortable anyway, what’s one more thing?” “Just eat the fruit snacks. You’ll feel better.”
And maybe I would—for about three minutes. But then came the spiral: regret, shame, more guilt, more discomfort. The food was never the problem. It was the way I was using it to disconnect from myself.
What I’m learning is that the urge to eat like that—fast, disconnected, reactive—isn’t about weakness. It’s a trauma response. It’s survival-mode. It’s my body trying to rescue me from emotional overwhelm the only way it knew how.
Last Night Was Different
But something shifted in me last night.
I noticed the thought. I paused. I breathed. And I said, “No. Not this time.”
Not out of punishment. Not out of willpower. But because I finally felt strong enough to sit in the discomfort. To stay connected to myself instead of abandoning her again.
I reminded myself that I was safe, even in the mess. That I could feel full and emotionally raw and still not need to numb it. I let the craving rise and fall. I told the voice in my head, “I hear you. But I’m choosing me instead.”
And it passed.
It Wasn’t About the Fruit Snacks
It was about the story behind them.
It was about the part of me that always believed comfort only comes in a package. The part of me that thought I had to numb my feelings to survive. The part of me that was trained to self-abandon the moment things got hard.
But that part of me isn’t running the show anymore. Last night wasn’t just about saying no to fruit snacks. It was about saying yes to me.
To the woman who is learning to stay. To the woman who no longer needs to prove anything through perfection. To the woman who can feel big feelings without reaching for something to quiet them. To the woman who is healing.
And that small win? It was huge. Because it reminded me that I am not powerless. I am not broken. I am not owned by my cravings or my past.
I am learning to love myself not just when I get it all right, but especially when I don’t. And that, right there, is where real transformation begins.
The other day, we were outside enjoying the sunshine—I was busy weeding, and Liam was on one of his little adventures. Suddenly, he proclaimed, serious as can be, that he had found an Easter egg. Considering that we had counted all the eggs on Easter and made sure we had found them all, I thought he must be mistaken—until he opened it and, sure enough, there was candy inside! We were both so surprised, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of his treasure-hunting skills, so I let him eat the candy.
A few minutes later, Liam went inside, saying he needed to put his hoodie away. When he came back, wouldn’t you know it? He found another egg—just sitting there in plain sight. How did we miss it before? That’s when it hit me. I watched as he went inside a third time, and it finally clicked. My clever little trickster had a stash of Easter eggs still full of candy in his room, and he was sneaking them outside to ‘find’ them again.
I laughed, called him out, and he just gave me that classic, mischievous grin. We both burst into laughter—caught in the game of his own little Easter egg adventure.
Honestly, it’s moments like these that make me grateful for quick and easy treats like these Strawberry Cheesecake Cottage Cheese Pops. Sure, they’re packed with creamy, fruity goodness and a boost of protein—but more importantly, they’re a sweet surprise waiting in the freezer… and unlike those Easter eggs, I actually know where these are hiding.
Why You’ll Love These Pops
These Strawberry Cheesecake Cottage Cheese Pops are everything you want in a treat—cool, creamy, and perfectly sweet with a boost of protein from cottage cheese and a touch of vanilla protein powder. They’re a refreshing snack for sunny days, a satisfying post-workout treat, or even a sneaky way to get some extra protein into your kids.
Plus, they’re quick to make and easy to customize. Add extra strawberries, swirl in some jam, or skip the graham cracker crumbs for a lighter version.
And the best part? You can ‘hide’ these in your freezer for when you need a little pick-me-up, just like Liam’s surprise Easter eggs… only this time, I actually know where they’re hidden.
Strawberry Cheesecake Cottage Cheese Pops Recipe
Ingredients:
1 cup cottage cheese (full fat)
4 oz cream cheese (softened)
1–2 tbsp honey or maple syrup (optional)
1 cup strawberries (fresh or frozen, chopped)
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
Pinch of salt
Optional: 2 tbsp crushed graham crackers (for ‘crust’ layer)
Instructions:
In a blender, combine cottage cheese, cream cheese, honey, vanilla extract, and salt. Blend until smooth and creamy.
Add strawberries and pulse to combine. Leave small chunks for texture or blend fully for a smoother popsicle.
Optional: Add a sprinkle of crushed graham crackers to the bottom of each popsicle mold.
Pour the mixture into molds and insert popsicle sticks.
Freeze for 4–6 hours or overnight.
Run warm water over the molds to release.
Notes:
Adjust the honey based on the sweetness of your protein powder.
Use fresh strawberries for a brighter flavor, or frozen for convenience.
These make a great post-workout treat or a kid-friendly summer snack.
And That’s a Wrap!
These Strawberry Cheesecake Cottage Cheese Pops have become a little bit of sunshine on a stick for us. Whether it’s a hot afternoon or just a sweet surprise after a long day, they always bring a smile—just like Liam’s little Easter egg adventure.
If you give these a try, I hope they bring a bit of joy to your day too. And if you catch any little “tricksters” hiding their own treats, you’ll know you’re not alone.
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This morning was one of those mornings. You know the kind.
My son was deep in the Lego zone—laser-focused on building something very specific. I, being the well-meaning mom I am, tried to help… and accidentally broke his creation. Big mistake. Huge. I am not the Lego parent. That’s my husband’s territory. But he wasn’t home, and I was just trying to help.
Cue the complete meltdown.
He was on the floor, sobbing, furious, heartbroken. We had about 10 minutes before we needed to leave for school, and my blood was starting to boil. You know that feeling? When you can literally feel the heat rising in your chest and you’re just seconds away from snapping?
In that moment, I knew that if I lost it, we’d both spiral—and I’d be carrying a load of guilt with me for the rest of the day.
So instead… I stood still. I breathed. I dug up some shred of patience and offered him a choice:
“You can keep having your meltdown and be late for school… or you can get up now, get to school early so you can play on the playground, and then finish your Legos after school.”
Honestly? I didn’t think it would work. I braced myself for more tears, maybe even prepared to leave the room and have a good cry myself.
But he surprised me. He got up.
We made it to school a little early. He proudly showed his friends his monkey bar skills. And guess what he’s doing right now? Yep—happily building Legos with his dad.
Was I perfect? Nope. Did I have a magical strategy? Not really. Just a quiet moment, a pause, and a choice.
I’m not a master of staying calm in chaos—but I’m learning.
If you’re in the same boat, trying to parent through big emotions (your kid’s and your own), just know: you’re not alone. Sometimes, we just need to breathe, stand still, and offer a little grace—to them and ourselves.
Yesterday, I had a really healthy day with food. I felt proud of myself. Then, later that night, I was in bed eating some fruit when I accidentally knocked my phone onto the floor. I leaned over to grab it, and that’s when I saw them—an opened bag of crackers I had binged on back on Easter. I had completely forgotten about them until that moment.
And just like that, everything shifted.
I got back into bed, but suddenly I felt hungry—almost uncomfortably so. The excuses started rushing in, like a familiar chorus: You already messed up before, just finish the bag. It’s just this once. You’re probably actually hungry. I didn’t fight them for long. I gave in. And afterward, I felt that deep, heavy guilt. I even woke up in the middle of the night, just kicking myself.
But somewhere between shame and exhaustion, I had a realization: I’ve been doing a good job holding boundaries with others, but I haven’t been holding any with myself.
That moment wasn’t just about crackers—it was about self-trust. It showed me how quickly my brain can fall back into old patterns when I don’t have clear, compassionate boundaries to support me. Not rules. Not restrictions. Just loving guardrails that help me feel safe.
So I’ve decided to start small, with two gentle boundaries that feel right for me right now:
1. No Eating After 8 PM Evenings are when I tend to feel the most vulnerable. I’m tired, emotionally worn, and more likely to confuse other needs—like comfort, rest, or distraction—for hunger. My boundary: I stop eating after 8 p.m. If an urge comes up, I check in with myself: What am I really needing right now?
2. Anchor Phrase for Urges When those sneaky justifications start whispering in my ear, I need a way to interrupt the script. My boundary: When I feel an urge, I pause and say: “This isn’t about hunger—it’s about something else. Let me check in.”
These boundaries aren’t meant to trap me—they’re meant to hold me.
If you’re on a healing journey too, maybe ask yourself: What boundaries am I holding for others that I haven’t yet learned to hold for myself? And what would it look like to offer yourself the same structure and care?
We deserve that kind of self-respect. We really do.
Growing up, I struggled a lot with my weight. After puberty, I started to gain and was thrown headfirst into diet culture. I still remember being barely thirteen and already obsessed with losing fat—desperate to get back to a body I didn’t even realize I was supposed to miss. That’s when binge eating began.
The beginning of my obsession with food didn’t start with a craving—it started with shame.
Feeling constantly deprived, I’d start hiding food in my closet like a squirrel storing nuts for winter. Frozen Cool Whip, melted ice cream, candy—anything I could stash. It was like my body said, “You’ve starved me long enough. Let me take over.” And I let it. Over time, the binges weren’t a choice—they became automatic. I’d lose control, binge, gain weight, feel ashamed, then restrict again. Over and over. I thought about food nonstop—how to avoid it, how to control it, or how to reward myself with it.
I wasn’t just hiding snacks—I was hiding pain, shame, and the feeling that I’d lost control.
By 17, I was regularly binging on entire bags of Cheetos, family-sized Twizzlers, and trays of cheesecake. I felt helpless. My weight fluctuated all through high school, peaking at 190 lbs. I had always imagined being at a healthy weight by graduation, and instead, I was more uncomfortable in my skin than ever.
By 2012, I’d lost some weight and was down to 160 lbs. That’s when I met my husband. We moved into my sister’s basement for a while, which didn’t have a kitchen, so we ate out constantly—usually greasy, comforting fast food. It became our routine: work, dinner, TV. Even after we got our own place, we kept up the habit.
Planning our wedding should’ve been one of the happiest times of my life, but I was deeply depressed. I had gained nearly 100 lbs in two years, topping out at 250 lbs. I felt ashamed and stuck. But I moved forward and got married at that weight—miserable inside. I had horrible reflux, intense anxiety, and this overwhelming sense that I’d let everything get out of control.
I got married at 250 lbs. I wore the dress, said the vows, and carried the shame. But I also showed up—and that matters too.
Everything shifted in 2016 when my doctor warned I was on the verge of prediabetes. That scared me. With diabetes in my family history, I knew I had to change. I started walking daily, eating more intentionally, and discovered intermittent fasting. The 16:8 method worked wonders for me—I lost weight, felt amazing, and by 2017, I was down to 170 lbs when we bought our first home.
She’s been through a lot—but she keeps walking.
But my old habits weren’t gone. I’d still slip into binge patterns when life got stressful, but fasting helped me get back on track. For a while, I maintained. Then, after a cruise in late 2018 (where I gained 10 lbs), I found out I was pregnant.
I was excited—and scared. I hadn’t reached my goal weight, but the timing felt right. I dreamed of a natural birth and started working with a birth center. Things went well until month eight, when my blood pressure climbed. No matter what I tried, it stayed high—likely from my weight, which had crept back up to 255 lbs. When my midwife told me I could no longer birth at the center, I broke down in tears. Once again, my weight felt like it had stolen something from me.
But on August 24, 2019, my son Liam was born. I didn’t lose 50 lbs overnight like I hoped, but nothing else mattered in that moment—I just wanted to be healthy for him.
Exhausted. Overwhelmed. In love. Nursing Liam for the first time and feeling everything all at once.
The months that followed were some of the hardest of my life.
Liam hated sleep. He only calmed while nursing. He had constant gas and cried endlessly. I was working full-time from home and had to return to work the very next day. I was recovering from birth, glued to the couch with a fussy newborn on my boob, answering emails and phone calls—and I was unraveling. Food became my only comfort. I snacked constantly—candy, chocolate, anything to survive the fog. I struggled with baby blues and felt completely trapped.
Sleep training Liam was pure hell. It took forever for him to learn how to fall asleep on his own. But eventually, he did—and with sleep came a sliver of normalcy. My hormones balanced out (finally), and by the time he was about a year and a half, I felt ready to focus on my health again.
I restarted intermittent fasting and began dancing—something I hadn’t done in years. I fell in love with dance workouts and even tried Barre. I got down to 170 lbs in 8 months and felt great.
Zoo day with Liam at 170 lbs. Strong. Happy. Grateful.
And that’s when I got pregnant with baby #2.
This time, I was thrilled to find out it was a girl. I was determined to take better care of myself during this pregnancy—and I did. I exercised, did prenatal Barre, and ate well (with the occasional binge, of course). I worked with a different midwife and avoided the emotional rollercoaster of trying to birth outside the hospital system. Things went much smoother.
Pregnant with baby #2 and hopeful to do things differently this time.
On April 1, 2022, Ashlyn was born. She was perfect—and the complete opposite of Liam. She slept like an angel (so much that I was worried at first!), and I didn’t even have to sleep train her. One night, I just laid her down, and she fell asleep. It felt like a miracle.
But even though Ashlyn was an easier baby, my hormones were still all over the place. I started snacking constantly again, using the excuse that I’d eaten so well during pregnancy. I went on a massive sugar binge right after labor—just me and Ashlyn in the hospital, no food in hours, and a whole bag of candy. That binge was hard to come back from. I wasn’t working out much either—life with two kids and a full-time job was a lot.
This photo holds everything—my weight, my weariness, and my why.
By early 2024, I was back up to 230 lbs. Hitting that number again felt crushing. I had worked so hard after both pregnancies, and here I was—right back where I swore I’d never be. I felt miserable in my body, and the heaviness wasn’t just physical—it weighed on my spirit too. I spiraled into another wave of depression, frustrated that no matter how hard I tried, a healthy weight seemed to keep slipping through my fingers. I wanted it so badly. I dreamed of feeling light, strong, and free in my body—but that dream felt just out of reach, like it always had.
Eventually, I lost a bit of that weight, getting down to 218 by the end of the year, but emotionally, I was still clawing my way out of a fog.
And that brings us to now.
I’m back into intermittent fasting. I’m walking more—aiming for at least 7,000 steps a day—and listening to my body. Some days I exceed that. Some days I rest. I’m working on intuitive eating, letting go of shame, and focusing on nourishment over numbers.
I’m down to 205 as of this writing. It’s slower than I’d like, but I’m learning to trust the process. More importantly, I’m finally addressing the root of it all: the binge eating.
205 today. Stronger than yesterday.
And there’s one more piece of this journey that’s changed everything…
Liam was diagnosed with ADHD. Suddenly, those early struggles—the sleepless nights, nonstop movement, the intense emotions—they all made sense. Parenting a child with ADHD has stretched me in ways I didn’t know were possible. It’s exhausting, beautiful, overwhelming, and sacred all at once.
Stylish. Spirited. Strong-willed. That’s Liam.
There are days I’m overstimulated, touched out, and on the edge—and that’s when the binge urges come back strongest. But now, I’m starting to recognize that what I need isn’t food. It’s a pause. A breath. A moment of self-compassion.
Liam has taught me more about resilience than any diet ever could. And in many ways, this healing journey? It’s not just mine—it’s ours.
When I first started making muffins and made banana peanut butter muffins, my 5-year-old son stuck his nose up at them without a second thought. (Toddlers and their refined palates, right?) Since I know chocolate is always a safe bet with him, I figured I couldn’t go wrong by combining chocolate and peanut butter into a mini muffin. And sure enough — these were a total win!
These mini muffins are naturally sweetened with honey (or maple syrup if you prefer), packed with cocoa and peanut butter, and just the right size for little hands (or big snackers). Plus, they’re quick to whip up and freezer-friendly if you want to stockpile snacks ahead of time!
If you’re looking for a kid-approved, lunchbox-friendly, or “I-just-need-something-chocolatey” treat, you’ll love these!
Step-by-Step: How to Make Chocolate & Peanut Butter Mini Muffins
Step 1: Gather Your Ingredients First things first — gather all your ingredients and set them out. This helps everything move faster once you start mixing!
All the ingredients ready to go!
Step 2: Preheat and Prepare Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Go ahead and lightly grease your mini muffin tin or line it with mini liners. I personally use these silicone mini muffin molds so I can easily pop them out when they are done cooling!
Step 3: Mix the Dry Ingredients In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. This will make sure everything is evenly combined and no lumps of cocoa hide later!
Step 4: Mix the Wet Ingredients In a separate bowl, stir together the peanut butter, honey, eggs, melted coconut oil (or avocado oil), milk, and vanilla extract. Mix it until it’s smooth and creamy. I had to whisk for a while before it totally smoothed out.
Step 5: Bring It All Together Now pour your wet ingredients into the bowl with the dry ingredients. Gently stir everything together — just until combined. (A few lumps are okay! Overmixing = dense muffins.)
Step 6: Fold in the Chocolate Chips Toss in the mini chocolate chips and gently fold them into the batter.
Step 7: Fill the Muffin Tinor silicone molds Scoop the batter into your mini muffin cups, filling each about ¾ of the way full. As you can see, I was pretty heavy handed on the spray 😂
Step 8: Bake and Cool Bake for 10–12 minutes. You’ll know they’re done when a toothpick poked into the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs (not wet batter!). Let them cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer them to a wire rack to cool completely.
A Quick Note:
When I first made this batch, I realized I didn’t have baking powder on hand! I made a quick swap by using ¾ teaspoon baking soda plus ½ teaspoon distilled white vinegar mixed into the wet ingredients — and the muffins still turned out soft and delicious. So if you ever find yourself out of baking powder, you can do the same!
Chocolate & Peanut Butter Mini Muffins (Naturally Sweetened)
Ingredients:
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour (or half whole wheat flour)
½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup natural creamy peanut butter
½ cup honey (or pure maple syrup)
2 large eggs
⅓ cup melted coconut oil (or avocado oil)
¾ cup milk (dairy or unsweetened almond milk)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup mini chocolate chips (I used Lily’s Sugar Free Dark Chocolate Baking Chips)
Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly grease a mini muffin tin or line with mini muffin liners.
Mix the dry ingredients: In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Mix the wet ingredients: In a separate bowl, whisk together the peanut butter, honey (or maple syrup), eggs, melted oil, milk, and vanilla extract until smooth.
Combine wet and dry: Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir until just combined. Be careful not to overmix!
Fold in the mini chocolate chips.
Fill the muffin cups about ¾ full with the batter.
Bake for 10–12 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with a few moist crumbs.
Cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
Notes:
If you don’t have baking powder, you can substitute by using ¾ teaspoon baking soda plus ½ teaspoon distilled white vinegar added into the wet ingredients.
These muffins are naturally sweetened and perfect for freezing — just store in a freezer bag for up to 2 months!
I used Lily’s Sugar Free Dark Chocolate Baking Chips, but feel free to use any mini chocolate chips you like!
Final Thoughts
These chocolate and peanut butter mini muffins have been such a hit around here — especially for quick after-school snacks or tossing into our homemade lunchables! I love making a batch at the start of the week and slipping a few into my son’s lunchbox for an easy, naturally sweet treat. (And let’s be honest — I usually sneak a couple for myself too 😆).
If you give these a try, I’d love to hear how they turn out for you! Leave a comment below— I love seeing what you bake! 🥰🍫
We started the morning with backyard egg hunting — and in the moment, I totally forgot to take pictures (which honestly means I was really present, right?). I made sure the kids ate breakfast before the sugar hunt, so I felt slightly less guilty watching them sneak behind a tree and devour their treasures like little candy goblins. 😆
(Didn’t get a pic, but this gives the vibe )
This was the first year Ashlyn (3) was truly into it, and that made everything extra fun. Liam (5) was in full chaotic energy mode later at grandma & grandpa’s — crushing chips on a bench, stealing candy from other kids, and just being, well… Liam. 😅 Ashlyn was running wild too. I felt like the only mom there with kids who seemed like a tornado in a sea of calm.
By the time we got home, I was toast. Zero capacity. Couch mode: activated. Didn’t want to play, talk, or even parent if I’m being honest.
And just when I thought the day was over, Ashlyn decided that she now needs to sleep with her door open. As if the light that’s already on all night long to chase away the “shadow monsters” isn’t enough — now we’ve got the hallway noises to keep her (and me) on high alert too. 😵💫
But… I woke up today feeling intentional. Like I’m here again. Not just running on autopilot. And that in itself feels like a win. 🌱💛
If you’ve ever lived with a picky eater, you know the struggle is real. And if you haven’t? Imagine trying to serve Gordon Ramsay a microwave dinner — and getting judged hard for it. That’s basically my life with Liam, my 5-year-old food critic in training.
Liam is currently obsessed with Lunchables. Not just any Lunchable — the ham and cheese with crackers one. Sounds simple, right? It’s just ham, cheese, and crackers. I thought, “Perfect! I can recreate this at home — save some money, cut down on processed stuff, and maybe add in a veggie if I’m feeling wild.”
Spoiler alert: I was wrong.
Let’s start with the ham. I’ve tried every kind imaginable. Thin sliced, thick sliced, honey-roasted, uncured, organic, deli-fresh — if it’s been sold in a refrigerated section, it’s been in my fridge. But Liam? Oh no. If it’s not that ultra-smooth, no-texture, slightly spongy ham from the actual Lunchable, he’s not having it. One sniff and he’s dramatically gagging like I just offered him a plate of slugs.
Next up: the crackers. Again, sounds simple. Saltines? Nope. Ritz? How dare I. He will only eat Chicken in a Biskit — the saltiest, most flavor-blasted cracker ever invented. Honestly, I kind of get that one. They are weirdly addictive. But they don’t exactly scream “balanced lunch,” you know?
And the cheese. Oh, the cheese. I thought I had nailed it by grabbing Kraft singles — because that’s what Lunchables use, right? WRONG. Apparently, the Lunchable cheese is even more processed (didn’t know that was possible), and Liam insists he can taste the difference. He took one bite of the homemade version and declared, “This is disgusting.” Meanwhile, we have a giant pack of Kraft singles from Sam’s Club slowly aging in the fridge because we thought we had cracked the code. Thank God my husband loves Kraft cheese, or I’d be weeping into a grilled cheese sandwich every day.
So, here we are. I’m trying to be creative, stay within budget, and feed my kid something he’ll actually eat. And Liam’s just out here defending Lunchables like they’re the fifth food group.
I know he’ll grow out of it eventually. I know his taste buds will mature and one day he might even ask for broccoli. But for now, I’m just over here trying not to cry in the Lunchable aisle.
If you’re in the picky eater trenches with me — solidarity. We’ll get through it. One Chicken in a Biskit cracker at a time.
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