Not fit for social Me-dia

Hi, hey, how are you guys? Long time no, um, write. Right, so anyway, picking up in a less emotionally fragile state at the moment. Maybe we can just, you know, pretend the past 4 months or so was a little foretaste of Purgatory.



SO, if you’ve been reading me for a while now, you’re probably aware that I have a … fraught relationship with the internet. On the one hand, I make my living writing words, and many of them live online in perpetuity, published into the digital ether. On the other hand, I am a human being with a finite capacity for intake. As the platforms have multiplied and proliferated, and along with them the expectation of being available and online at all times, I’ve found myself further and further convinced that this – by this I mean the constant online-ness and 24/7 availability – isn’t actually what I was made to do.

But writing? Yes, and I miss it. I miss the uncomplicated days of putting a bunch of babies down for synched up naptime and pounding out an essay length blogpost on something weighing heavily (or lightly!) on my heart. 

And I miss sharing it with you guys, my readers. Not followers. Not fans. Not an amorphous mass of silent double tapping strangers. 

An essential component of being writer means having an intended audience for whom one is writing. When I sit down to write, I write for a person. I write for an audience whom I can imagine and envision and with whom I am trying to communicate. 

And I really think that’s my lane. I don’t think people read me because they want detailed info on my shopping habits or the brands of clothes I buy for my kids (Neighborhood hand me downs meets Old Navy couture, if you’re wondering. Affiliate link nowhere.), but because they are genuinely interested in something I’m diving a little deeper into, whether it’s faith or motherhood or morality or human relationships or, okay, yes, sometimes boxed wine reviews.

So if you’d like to see more of that? And perhaps some monthly live-streams where we can delve a little deeper into a particular theme I’m addressing, whether it’s a particularly challenging teaching of the Church or some hard truth about marriage? Well, I’m here for it. 

There’s just one minor detail. Synchronized nap times dried up ages ago, and maybe you’ve heard the one about the global pandemic that knocked out all kids activities and educational programming? 

Still, for a robust hourly rate, one can still source a babysitter for half a dozen children. They need to be … relaxed.

And that’s where you come in. If you’d like for me to keep writing, may I humbly invite you to become a monthly patron of this digital space? I can’t promise anything fancy like a private podcast or a monthly newsletter where I wax eloquent about eloquent things, but I will keep blogging. And given the number of new subscribers to ye olde rss feed (and the number of “where’d you go?” texts and emails in my inboxes) during the past 3 months of almost complete radio silence on my end, I do suspect there are a few of you out there. 

So from me to you, may I say this? I miss you too.

I miss writing every week. I miss weeks where I’d write multiple days in a row. I miss sharing ideas and creating thoughtful content that takes longer than 5 minutes to read (and to write!)

And yes, there are longer term projects in the works. Projects that may eventually end up being available on Amazon, if you’re picking up what I’m laying down. But, again, primary caregiver to a small army and all that.

Consider this your formal and slightly tacky invitation to become an official patron of Mama Needs Coffee, and keep the caffeine flowing.

And if you can’t, or you’d rather not? Please know that what I write on this blog will always be free for anyone and everyone to read. I’ve had enough messages from catechists and pastors and parents over the years to be convicted to my core that God is using this little corner of the internet for good, and I never want the cost of entry to deter someone from finding something useful, encouraging, and inspiring. 

But if you do find yourself with the cost of a cup (or a pound!) of coffee to spare each month? 

Well, just know that it will get funneled directly back into a thriving local economy of transient summer college students and intrepid homeschoolers with flexible weekday schedules and a strong stomach for diaper changes. And maybe on the occasional cup of coffee, too.



P.s. so grateful for every one of your prayers, emails, kind messages (and did I mention prayers???) over these past couple months. Things are better. I can totally see how getting off of social media when I did was God’s profound and perfectly-timed mercy for me. Even if it took, you know, a minor/majorish mental health crisis to precipitate the move.

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