Alright, we can drag this out and cry or we can simply say, “I’m archiving the blog and moving to Substack,” and focus on the next thing.
However, in my continued attempts to “actually feel things” because my therapist is a sadist with weird rules, I will tell you the truth: I have avoided this moment because it hurts.
In fact, it hurts enough for me to have ignored, for actual years, the writing on the mommy blog (fuck you) wall: I’m done writing about motherhood as a primary area of focus. And I’m done blogging, which you’ve perhaps observed through my habit of not writing blog posts. Once I knew this, though, I didn’t know what I wanted to do next. Also I had a small mental collapse but I digress. Where does one go when the mommy blog dies?
Again, stop calling it a fucking “mommy blog!”
I am not abandoning you, though: I AM MOVING TO SUBSTACK.
Pro tip: You can stop reading here if you want. I have shared the critical information.
I started Renegade Mothering in January 2011, which means I’ve written this for over 13 years. Can you believe it? We’ve been together a long time. Some of you started reading back when I had nine readers and five of them were trolls named Dan.
We’ve become online and real-life friends. We’ve hugged at book events. We’ve hung out when you came to my town for work. We’ve yelled at each other, and I’ve apologized, and you’ve apologized. We have yelled at each other and not even remotely apologized.
We’ve endured the Concerned Internet Brigade a thousand times over, hit with every holier-than-thou asshole on the internet reminding us IT WAS OUR CHOICE TO BECOME MOTHERS.
We’ve gone through some very serious shit, too. The murder of my grandmother. One or two or ten depressions, the 2016 election. Births, deaths, divorces.
And well, oh god—you all made me a writer.
I guess I’ve been a “writer” since the day the bishop’s wife in my church handed me a journal when I was 9 and told me to write every day, and I did, but you made a Writer (puke) in the sense that this is my life, my career. I published a book. I work as an editor and writing teacher, and lead retreats all over the world. I make a living from this. A dream.
I won’t forget the day I sat in my professor’s office in 2013 and told her I was going to forgo the PhD application. I said, “I just have to try being a writer. I think I can do it.”
The reason I thought I could do it was because you exist.
We’ve definitely had some fun: Jack Daniels, that time we were overtaken by second-wave feminists who hated us (?), that time I had to turn off comments because I said tidy houses were not a thing. The time I came out to you as an alcoholic. The time we crashed servers with a friendship manifesto. That time I wrote about Caillou and really offended those in support of tiny bald Canadians. And every single time one of you has commented or emailed that my words have resonated with you.
When I started this blog, my kids were 9, 5, and 6 months.
Arlo was the words “I’m never having a fourth child.”
I was so deep in it all, it seemed the all-consuming motherhood life would, in fact, never end. All those years I wrote to you from the thick of it.
But my house isn’t chaotic anymore. It isn’t loud and raucous. Getting out the door is annoying but because I am ignored by teenagers with no sense of urgency.
Only one kid can’t find their shoes and forgets we put them on every day.
Only one kid needs me to help pack his suitcase.
Only one kid even wants me to pick them up from school and only one needs me to help remember when it’s pajama day. THERE USED TO BE SO MANY OF THEM AND NONE OF THEM KNEW WHEN IT WAS PAJAMA DAY.
It isn’t that childhood is so fast; it’s that the time our families are full of needy children is not the entirety of childhood. Yes, they’re with us for 18 years. The house is a joy-hell clusterfuck for 10. Maybe 12. I guess more if we have a dozen kids.
Arbitrary numbers. Does it matter? The point is I woke up one day and it had all changed, and it really felt like that. Like one day the life I had known like air was just gone. And it isn’t coming back. This is the moment they all warned us about. And oh, how they irritated me.
One day you realize you have time. Hours alone each day. The Friday night movie and pizza tradition, once an explosion of blankets and pajamas and a nursing baby and screaming toddler – a movie never finished, pizza eaten cold—becomes just you, your husband, and the one kid who stays home with you sometimes.
“There used to be six of us all the time,” Mac says. I hit him on the arm and tell him he’s dead to me.
I do it to him the next week, finally giving away a toy all four kids played with, and the youngest has outgrown. I show it to Mac and say nothing – words are unnecessary — and he whacks me back. I think this is how we deal with our feelings. My therapist will be so proud.
What the hell will our lives look like when it’s just him and me?
People start telling you to look forward to grandchildren. Good god. Why is that so depressing? I always said my kids weren’t “all of me,” and I meant it. I had an identity outside of them then and I do now, and I felt erased by all the domestic, unpaid, unseen labor.
But oh, how simple it was to fall into the identity they offered me.
How active, how distracting, how forever calling for me. How warm to hold a little one. How soft their arms I could nibble, just a little, any time I wanted, to get a rush of meaning, calm, love. How simple to be married—no, how much easier to ignore a marriage—when you’re wrapped in and through the babies, one day tumbling into the next and no time to look around at each other, at the day, at the years.
And then they just don’t need you like that anymore, and you get to face how much of your existence was wrapped up in them, even if you partly hated it. Because it was right there. Because it was easier than the alternative (figuring out who you were outside of them). Plus, was there ever really a choice?
Fuck it. We’ve been here before.
What I’m trying to say is thank you. It’s been a beautiful ride. And it’s time to move on.
I’ve said what I wanted to say about motherhood, and now, I’ve got different shit to say–about my home culture, about what it means to be 45 years old, in a country that isn’t my own, with one kid gone, another close to gone – and me, looking forward to what comes after the mommy blog dies.
It may seem like I’m saying, “Welp, that was fun. Motherhood is over.” No. That’s not it. Parenting teenagers is the hardest phase of parenting I’ve faced. It is also distinctly more private.
What I am saying is this: My life is shifting away from what it was and toward the second half of this existence. While I sense a dwindling, an ending, I feel a budding sense of expansion — a desire to reclaim myself like some Oprah-approved lady novel, to find the parts of me I dropped along the way, to remember what it’s like to be a bit more alone.
Shit sure gets real, doesn’t it, when the kids start leaving and the parents start dying?
I feel myself in a strange, liminal space: Not out of the “old life,” unable to see the “new.” These are the cliches we ignore until we cannot anymore.
I want to write about all that. I want to write about how I’ve been changed by age, death, moving abroad. How I’m utterly done with the bullshit. How I am no longer willing to accept dumb shit from anyone, even if they’re on “our side.” I am a bit disillusioned, to be honest, with so much of what’s around me. I used to see the world in much simpler terms: good vs bad. Progressive vs inherently and completely evil (lol). Moving here complicated everything I thought to be True in those simple terms.
I want to write about that, about what I see, read, think, and wonder as an American walking around The Netherlands. I want to write about things I’ve learned while living here. The things I hate, which I’ve never addressed publicly before because it’s a lot harder. And the things I love so much I feel I can’t breathe sometimes in gratitude for being here.
I don’t want to be the “expat blogger.” I don’t want to be some “follow your bliss” live your dreams girl-wash-your-face Dutch version because I moved to a country that feels like utopia because America hates people.
You know I couldn’t be that anyway.
I want to bring the Renegade Mothering energy (eye?) to, well, everything else, only without the political ranting into the void. More on that in my Subtstack.
Anyway, what I hope brought and kept you here is identification. Not so much that we agreed on everything or lived the same kid life or that I never said anything that made you angry (as if that were possible), but rather that there was something in my words that struck something in your bones. That human level.
Why am I moving to Substack and not just shifting the focus of the blog? Because Mark Zuckerberg is an angel of death and I am tired of him deciding who sees my work.
Also, any day now I’m going to get banned permanently from Facebook. No for real if I get one more temporary ban I’m pretty sure I’m off the platform. I can’t write any sort of satire without getting “hate speech” bans, and even though when I argue them they agree it’s not hate speech, the bans are not retroactively annulled or expunged from your Big Brother FB record.
How is it that this billionaire frat tech bro and his dystopian AI zombie team determine what I see, what you see, who sees me, and what I am allowed to say about French people?
Look Mark, we all talk shit about French people because they’re better at everything and we’re jealous. GIVE US THIS.
Are you sensing some anger? I have anger.
In fewer words, I have no agency over my own writing, and I’m tired of being at the mercy of social media algorithms trained by data stolen from my friends.
With a newsletter, I can go straight to the inbox of those who want me. I HOPE YOU WANT ME.That sounded less codependent in my head.
On Substack, I’ll be writing essays on all the things we discussed here, plus quicker bits and observations, brief and low-bottom “reviews” of books I read and movies I see, and links to good shit as it comes into my life. Hopefully all of them are shorter than this blog post.
I don’t need to say goodbye–I am right here!–but I will tell you I have tears in my eyes as I write this, thinking of the first one I wrote, when I had something to say and no idea to whom I was saying it.
I had to find you. I had to trust you were there.
I feel the same way now, a little–unable to find what I want to read about being a human in times that feel just a bit too dystopian for our standard menu of bullshit. Ready to write what I’d like to read in these end times.
Thank you, Renegade Mothering. Thank you to my babies for all those years.
And with all my goddamn fucking heart, thank you.
Now let’s get the hell outta here.
Like Arlo packing up his busking career, let’s fucking go.
Note: I am working on an author site that will eventually house my workshops, retreat info, etc., but the blog posts will ALWAYS be available, right here, as they are now.
Jenny
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 6:06I WANT YOU!
Thanks, Janelle, for this last post. I found your blog when I was in the depths of the young-children parenting, and what a relief it was. I’m in the same boat now, parenting teens (so much harder, so much more private), and I still love reading your posts and observations about all sorts of things. Your writing is so funny and so real. Thank you for all the times you literally made me laugh out loud. Heading over to Substack now to subscribe! See you on the other side.
Kristine
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 6:18Well, I’m in! I’ll follow you wherever!
Joanne Jones
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 6:47Thank you Thanky you Thank you for this blog! I have loved it and recommended it countless times over the last 12 years. My kids mirror yours in age and stage and you have always had an uncanny way of articulating the thoughts that I hold deep within me, every step of the way. Over the years I have popped over here and found tears, laughter and comfort in your words and in knowing I am not alone and so again,thank you. I will be following you to substack x
Kathryn
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 6:51Solidarity! I got temporarily Facebook-banned for making a joke about the French!
Betty Thomas
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 6:51Yes, please! DD is now 25, and I love (the columns of – let’s not conflate the work with the person! Although I do anyway) everyone I follow on Substack. And I’m really tired of FB never showing me the posts of people I’m friends with and follow, and only endless posts of “you should follow this/buy this.” Which is a long-winded way of saying “I’m in.”
Mary Beth Butler
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 6:55Love this hard. Thank you. See you on substack.
I believe “snafu” is a military acronym for “situation normal, all effed up.”
Karen Archer
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:05Janelle, thank you for everything. I’ve read all your things ever since my four sons were little. Your irreverence and musing and fire got me through some shit and now they’re all in their twenties. And I’m still here and yes, more lonely and inward and in awe of what and who I was and am and kinda confused at whatever the hell all that was. I’ve always fancied myself a writer even though it’s all in my head, so your musings and offerings and hella cool retreats have inspired me. I got lost in Catholicism and leadership my whole life until I couldn’t take their overt rejection and patriarchy and wanted just the regular kind. I retooled my career in my fifties because women like you were doing cool shit and I could see that I got to, too. I went back to school and am now a community college academic advisor. I get to help people grow and tell them what to do and they don’t roll their eyes at me and they’re grateful and I get cash for it. I get to work for justice in this increasingly hellish hole that America wants to keep becoming. But I have hope because you told me to and because you exist and wanted to share with us. Thanks. It means a lot. And fuck the Zuck, I’m glad you’re moving over into a nicer brand of patriarchy too. Godspeed.
Rosemarie Gilbert
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:07So looking forward to reading everything you have to share in the future. A thousand thank you’s for all the rapier wit insight and distillation ( for me at least ) of all the mommy years
And just FYI ” Jack Daniels ” has become a solid part of my family culture between me and my now adult kids 🙂
I get and give that phrase by text at least once a week ! I expect it to eventually work its way into common slang
Thanks for the memories. Looking forward to many more <3
Kathy
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:11Dead serious, that may be the fastest decision to spend 65 dollars ever. Excited to see what’s ahead.
Kate
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:19I’ve read your blog for years, you made me feel like there were others like me (I know a few in real life too), and I’ll follow you there. Thanks for leaving the old blog posts up – I felt like I knew your family! Thanks for all your thoughts and your writing!
Steph
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:29I’m in!
*throws shit into duffle bag*
Jeanne
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:33Dammit Janelle, you know you started a cult right? And as a follower of said cult, of course I am coming to substack. ( I don’t really know what it is and that kind of scares me…but I am coming anyway! )
Tara
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:33your voice was a life line in the thick of it, and still. thank you janelle. been right there with you, am now also occupying that strange liminal space, rightbackatcha, thanks for the beautiful ride friend.
Marsha Shandur
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:39I found this blog after a 3am google search of “why won’t my baby go to sleep” and the post that showed up RESCUED ME.
This was beautiful. As has been watching your Dutch journey over on FB — I’m excited to hear more in newsletters. See you over on Substack!
Marsha
Amy Commanda
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:40I will gladly follow as well. Have you read this new release?? I have a feeling it might be exactly what you are looking to read at the moment:
Human(e): A Radical Reimagining of Grief, Loss and Learning to Live Without.
Angela
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:41I found your blog 12 years ago. I had a newborn and a 7yr-old.My family was living several states from anyone we knew. I was isolated and deep in the trenches. Your writing hit me hard and often it felt like you were taking the words I couldn’t admit aloud and posting them for all to see. You’d write. I’d cry. I’d rage. I’d remember. And then somehow I’d keep carrying on – but not so alone. So thank you for being the stranger that helped keep me sane. As for your future plans, good for you. I get the need for change. As a part empty nester and mother to a tween that only needs me to drive her around, I also feel the holes being poked into the mother/martyr identity. It a weird place. Anyway, I look forward to tagging along on your journey. Peace!
Jennelle Kill Crothers
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:45Looking forward to following you to the next adventure!
Barbara Hufford
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:50I’m in too!! I’ve missed your candid outlook on real life stuff and the ability to say the shit out loud. Thanks for keeping it real!
Annette
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 7:58Your writing has always been powerful and meaningful to me. On a heart level. There are posts I still go back to and share. So glad We have a new places to follow you to. ❤️
Kim
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:00I’m not crying I’m just leaking a little and excited for you! Things have changed so much- when I discovered the fabulousness and raw honesty of you, I was barely into motherhood and struggling to survive… honestly you helped keep me somewhat sane and alive and I will follow you wherever you go… not in the stalker way lol I do wish I could follow to the Netherlands because of the shitshow here, but single parenting a kid with just Four more years left in school- I wish we could go! Please keep being you, sharing the realness and life!
Monica
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:01I have been thinking of you often lately, this is how it often works with me. I have this thought and people appear. I will follow you. If you didn’t know, years ago, right after I lost my dad and months after my son-in-law died by suicide, leaving us his baby to raise, I took your writing course. I’m a math teacher for crying out loud, but writing my truth, guided by you, helped to heal me in ways you will never know. Looking forward to the next chapter.
Sandi
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:03From my empty nest, where we sit in the too-quiet house and wait for a visit from the grandchildren so that the chaos can begin all over, thank you.
Wendy Chenkovich
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:04Fantastic!! And of course you’re making this transition now – it’s the Age of Aquarius! I hope you know I’ll follow you wherever you go. You Must. I’m a crazy fan. Who’s 100% in the same limbo phase as you express. Actually I think I’ve been here at least a couple years but I’ve dragged out accepting it in full. My kids are grown. One has flown and the other is basically an adult roommate saving money and making plans to fly. I threaten to fly with her because I’m fucking jealous about where she plans to land. I wanna go there too. Maybe I will even if she grumbles about it. OR MAYBE, I’ll go somewhere else. Might as well, nothing really keeping me here. Single mom empty-nester is a depressing thought. I just can’t wrap my head around it. Clearly it’s time to reinvent myself and that’s both scary and exciting and overwhelming. I have no clue how to start, so YES – I can’t wait to read what you plan to write about next. Maybe it will help me figure my own shit out. No pressure Janelle. Maybe I’ll come live with you! I am a crazy fan of you and Mac. (Insert heart emoji with hugs) FYI – The FB/IG algorithm shit are what need to be permanently banned!
Hathaway
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:04Yup, I’m crying too. I’ve been with you for…fuck it, I can’t count, since my 13 yo was in diapers, I think…
In that time, I went through a divorce, stopped drinking and kept my trans kid alive. You were there, reminding me that shit can be stunningly mundane, horrifically tragic and still communal humor and love will get us through it.
I am starting to try on new versions of myself, less treading water, more, “wait? I can actually decide which direction to swim?” It’s simultaneously liberating and paralyzing, like that rehabilitated fox that just isn’t quite ready to dart out of the dog crate across the field. I can’t wait to see what your field looks like and if the landmines are actually full of RHT or kids living in basements.
Thank you for being you, and me, and everyone of us.
I’ll see ya on the ‘stack..
Sally Edwards
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:06God I hear you and agree with everything. Parenting teens is the HARDEST but when I was back in the sleep deprived breastfeeding hell I wouldn’t have believed it. And I completely get the privacy thing too. I post less but parent more!! And yes fuck Facebook and their bullshit. I love that you’re continuing as your voice is needed and I love your writing. Hoorah for Substack.
Wendi
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:14Thank you. I think I’ve been following you since before Arlo arrived in the world, and have hard related so many times since. As my youngest is turning 18 in February, I’m feeling many of your same feelings today. Looking forward to continuing on the journey via Substack and tearing up (even though I’m not much of a crier, unless I’m enraged) the next time you yank my heartstrings and make me laugh simultaneously.
Godspeed Janelle.
Melanie Murrish
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:25End of an era but not the end. Love you Janelle-see you on Substack where the shit is about to hit the fan ❤️
SamC
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:28I have been reading your writing since I had my first baby in 2013, and you were probably the first person I felt truly seen by as a mother, who echoed my complicated, brutal, beautiful feelings about womanhood and motherhood. I think it may have been your unbridled honesty that allowed me to search for my own tribe of women in my community and that has allowed me to come fully and unapologetically into my own womanhood, without making it easier or more comfortable for those (ahem, men) around me. I think in knowing you were out there, it helped me identify what I was looking for in my tribe of women, and helped me identify and recognize that intangible fire when I saw it in another. I will follow you anywhere. Thank you for everything.
Lorain
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:32This grandmother started reading you when my kids were already grown. You reminded me of my life when I was younger, you made me feel, you made me laugh. I’m in. I’d pay you as you most certainly deserve, but retirement money is shit. Write. I will be reading.
Heather
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:33Life is funny. A week or two ago I suddenly realized that it had been a long time since I’d heard from you and I went searching first thru my inbox and then later thru the interwebs to see if I could find your blog (of course, I couldn’t remember the name), Anyway, I finally found it and was dismayed to find that it seemed the blog was defunct. I was hoping that all was OK with you because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a social media post, either. Was so glad to see your message this morning!! Anyway, I have missed your amazing voice and I’m so happy that you will continue to share your thoughts, feelings and experiences with us. I feel so..,I don’t know… amazed and also validated every time I read almost anything you write and I’m so glad I get to keep riding with you on this next phase of your (our) journey. Can’t wait.
Antonia
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 8:59Oh my. This post ripped my heart right out. I feel everything you feel. Deeply grateful that you were born – and so excited for Substack. X
Dorothea
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 9:34My daughter will be 12 in 10 days. I found Renegade Mothering when she was a tiny infant and I was desperately not okay and in a marriage that I let crush me for 8 more years. I was so grateful for you then and 100 times over the years. Thank you for all of it, for sharing yourself. And I’ll see you on Substack.
Lindsay
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 9:49Loved this blog, missed you, so glad you are back!!!!
Lelah
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 10:19Oh my god. I’ve missed your blog posts. This one made me cry and laugh so hard. Onward to Substack and beyond!
Robin
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 10:21Hell I moved to Substack almost 4 years ago but just kept writing the same shit…wish I had done what you’re doing because now I’m trying to revamp my Substack to reflect more of ME and less of “mommy blog” (yes fuck you fits so much for that). My son will live with me forever but I’m still tired of only writing about him. So I support you and you inspire me. Thank you for Renegade Mothering, for your book, for your writing, I will follow you anywhere!
Nieves Rathbun
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 10:37Janelle.
Thank YOU!
Your writing helped. I laughed I cried. Seriously though thank you. By you being raw and real it made it feel a little safer for me to do the same. A great reminder that shining our light helps other people to shine.
The community you are building feels vibrant and juicy and necessary, especially right now. Some of my favorite internet friends are from taking your workshops. I can imagine the life long connections being made at you retreats!
Love to you my dear writing teacher and internet friend.
Nev
Cheryl
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 10:54Thank you for making me feel not alone.
Your life shared, issues, exact thoughts and feelings were always eerily mirroring my own life.
I sometimes wish you were a real human friend next door, without sounding creepy. A gal can dream.
Thank you for being on my path as a motherless Mother who feels things deeply and adored Mothering while also felt completely drowned by it. It was so beautiful to be lifted up by you just being you.
Best to you and yours and will be listening to your words at sunstack because I tol am trying to move on, cry about the baby shirt/ toy, adjust to Friday movie nights being different and need support parenting during these teen years in a world that feels increasingly dark. There has got to be light if you and your readers stick together….thank God these Mothers exist, resist and can heal the world.
But for now
Cheryl
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 10:55Thank you for making me feel not alone.
Your life shared, issues, exact thoughts and feelings were always eerily mirroring my own life.
I sometimes wish you were a real human friend next door, without sounding creepy. A gal can dream.
Thank you for being on my path as a motherless Mother who feels things deeply and adored Mothering while also felt completely drowned by it. It was so beautiful to be lifted up by you just being you.
Best to you and yours and will be listening to your words at subtack because I tol am trying to move on, cry about the baby shirt/ toy, adjust to Friday movie nights being different and need support parenting during these teen years in a world that feels increasingly dark. There has got to be light if you and your readers stick together….thank God these Mothers exist, resist and can heal the world.
But for now
Suzi
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 11:50I can’t remember the first time I read your blog but it would have been not long after you started, our babies were the same age, somewhere between 6 and maybe 9 months. It had an instant impact on me in my little world in Sydney. I binge-read all your posts that day, you were speaking my words, articulating so accurately my experience when I couldn’t articulate it for myself. And have continued to do so over the past 13 years that I’ve been reading along. So courageous to share such intimate parts of your life with us all but far out thank goodness because you’ve been a beacon of reason and total validation – thank you! And as I read your last post, it’s taken me back to that feeling of reading your first. Stopped me in my tracks, encouraging me to reflect and remember and celebrate. My baby is now 14 and I have a 10 year old. There’s still chaos but NOTHING like the craziness of the past 10-14 years. It breaks my heart a bit but again I’m so grateful to have your words to normalise and give a bit of a heads-up of changes ahead. I don’t know anything about Substack but you’ve converted me, I’m clicking on the link to continue being witness to your adventures that lay ahead – all the very best, and again thank you for crossing paths with me.
Ashlea
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 12:04Well, thanks for making me ugly cry when I was supposed to be working, but here we are. Geez, talk about a post that encapsulates so much of what I’ve been feeling as I watch my little guy grow up and wondering where that’s going to leave me and my identity. Thank you for your inspiration to get back into writing and finding my way back to myself before all-consuming motherhood. I look forward to seeing where the journey takes you.
Ebony
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 12:35Janelle, thank you for all of it. Your words saved me. My son is now 14 so I must’ve been one of the 5 you wrote to in the beginning. I appreciate it all. Thanks again and best of luck.
Joy
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 13:49I don’t even know what substack is, but if you’re there and Mark Zuckerberg is not, I’m in.
Amy
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 15:24Janelle,
I’ve been with you since just about the beginning–you’ve been able to write so many of my feelings about motherhood and life without even knowing me. Off to Substack and new horizons!
Sherry
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 16:17No. Thank you. And also screw you. Because I saw this in my email, and I decided, “No. I am NOT going to cry.” But I did anyway. I copied the first thing you said that made me bawl, but then there was another. Then another. So never mind. It all made me cry. Some were happy tears. Mostly…
You were my invisible best friend during the young years on the ride we call parenting. There really are not enough words to thank you.
Jess
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 16:35We’ve never met, but you, this blog, your writing…. don’t make me say it.
I have kids who are all just a bit younger than yours. Reading your blog, and then your book made me feel just a little less alone. Like you, my kids are getting older and its another stage, and I feel a bit put out to sea in so many ways. Thank you for all that you have given me, given us. But I don’t even want to say that, because it’s not over. We’re nog over. Nothing is ever really over, ever is it? And maybe that’s the whole point of doing this all together
Lisa J
Thursday, 21 November, 2024 at 18:34Authenticity at its finest. I’ll follow your words anywhere.
Kate Jones
Friday, 22 November, 2024 at 4:34Thank you for everything you have given us and everything we have to look forward to. Your blog was a lifeline to me when my kids were littles. It helped me feel so much less alone. I appreciate your candor and wit. I would follow you anywhere
Kelly McGill
Friday, 22 November, 2024 at 6:46I have followed you for years, laugh-crying to just about every one of your blog posts. I took your writing course, and gained the courage to write and publish my own novel. Knowing you exist makes me happy (cringe – that was horrendously cheesy). It doesn’t matter where you write, as long as you keep writing. xo
JK
Friday, 22 November, 2024 at 13:11Like so many before me, I came across your blog when my first was a baby, very soon after you’d started, and it felt like you were there with me on the ride. Your posts were moments of joy and connection for me in what was for a little while a dark time. And yeah, now the house us quiet(er), and the worries bigger. To be fair, it’s an absolute explosion of joy and love to see my kids grow into their own people, making their own decisions and figuring things out. Anyway, just to say, thank you. For it all. P.s. fun fact – I’m a Dutchie living abroad – another fun parallel
Lisa
Saturday, 23 November, 2024 at 9:45I’m ready for the next phase! And, so are you ❤️ Congratulations.
Janelle Hanchett
Saturday, 7 December, 2024 at 6:12Thanks, sister! I love you.