The Newsletters are deliverd to your inbox every Thursday morning at 6amEST! If you don't see it let me know so I can make sure your email is on the list! Here is a story from this week's issue... Mom’s Quiet Spot Tucked behind the laundry room and just past the chaos of everyday life was Mom’s quiet spot—an old armchair by the window, a chipped mug always close by, and a worn-out book she never quite finished. No one was banned, but everyone knew—when Mom was there, you tiptoed. That corner wasn’t about escaping us. It was about finding herself. She’d sit for ten minutes, maybe twenty, soaking in the golden afternoon light, breathing like she finally remembered she had lungs. Sometimes she’d write in her notebook, just scribbles. Other times she’d simply stare out the window like the trees were whispering secrets just to her. We used to tease her: “What do you even do in your quiet spot?” She’d smile that tired-but-happy smile and say, “I remember who I am.” And somehow, after just a little while there… she always came back to us softer, steadier, stronger. Do you have a “Quiet Spot” that you go to? Share a picture to inspire others!

The Newsletters are delivered to you inbox every Thursday morning at 6amEST! If you don't see it, please let me know so I can make sure you are on the list! Here is a story from last week's newsletter... “Sticky Fingers” It wasn’t my fault. Mom said I could have one cookie. Just one. But they were right there on the counter, all warm and gooey like they wanted me to take them. So I climbed the stool ninja-style. One became two. Then three. I lost count after the fourth... and then I heard Mom’s footsteps. I panicked. I hid the rest under my shirt. Bad move. Now I’ve got chocolate chips melting down my belly and fingers so sticky they’re practically glue. Mom walks in. She stares. I freeze. Then she bursts out laughing. “Sticky fingers strike again!” she says, grabbing a wipe. She calls me her little cookie bandit. I think I’m off the hook... until she hands me the broom. Worth it. When has “Sticky Fingers” turned into a family story for the ages?

Last week's newsletter wa posted an sent to your emails! If you didn't see it - let me know to make sure you are on the list to receive it. https://www.supermom247.club/p/the-supermoms-24-7-club-newsletter-issue-247-132-2025-june-12-2025-66af1e63a5d313be Here is a snippet from last week's short story... “The Grateful Crumbs” The Johnsons didn’t have much—just a squeaky old table, mismatched plates, and enough spaghetti to go around if no one got greedy. But every night, before forks hit plates, they paused. Each person shared one thing they were grateful for. Sometimes it was big: “Dad got a job interview!” Sometimes tiny: “The dog didn’t eat my homework.” Sometimes downright weird: “I'm grateful my burp didn’t smell.” But over time, something magical happened. Their house, though small, felt huge with love. Their laughter echoed louder than any fancy home theater. And those spaghetti nights became sacred—a reminder that life’s richest moments don’t come from what you have, but what you notice. Even the crumbs seemed holy. And so, with sauce-stained grins and warm hearts, the Johnsons feasted on food... and gratitude. What “Grateful Crumbs” have been your place to turn to feel love and gratitude? Share it in the SKOOL Club

Last week's newsletter was posted and sent to your emails! If you didn't see it - take a look here before next week's issue drops on Thursday morning EST! https://www.supermom247.club/ Here's the special mini - story dedicated to "“Dance It Out” Linda stood in the kitchen, tears welling in her eyes for no reason she could explain. The kind of heavy feeling that creeps in quietly. She stared out the window until her daughter hit play on the speaker. “Come on, Mama. Dance it out.” Linda tried to protest—half-laughing, half-sniffling—but a funky beat filled the room. Tiny hands tugged her toward the center. Barefoot and pajama-clad, they began to sway. Then spin. Then shimmy. One ridiculous robot move later, Linda burst into laughter. The sadness didn’t disappear completely. But it loosened its grip. Every goofy twirl chipped a little more off. Her daughter beamed, arms flailing like a tiny windmill. Linda realized it then: joy isn’t the opposite of sadness. Sometimes, they show up together... and dance. And when they do? You dance right back When was the last time you “Danced It out”? Share it in SKOOL or other Social

Last week's newsletter was posted and sent to your emails! If you didn't see it - take a look here before next week's issue drops on Thursday morning EST! https://www.supermom247.club/ Here's the special mini - story dedicated to "The Great Spaghetti Sling" It all started with spaghetti. Dinner was going smoothly — until 5-year-old Max announced he’d invented “noodle snapping.” We didn’t ask questions. We should have. With a loud fwip, a noodle whipped from his fork and smacked Aunt Karen right on the glasses. Gasps. Silence. Then a slow-mo blink and a straight-faced, “Direct hit.” Dad laughed so hard he snorted marinara out of his nose. Grandma tried to keep it classy, but she was giggling behind her napkin. Max stood proudly, as if he'd just won the Nobel Prize for dinner table chaos. Then, without warning, Grandpa joined in. He twirled a spaghetti noodle and launched it like a pro. Total pasta pandemonium. The cat ended up with a noodle wig. The dog licked everyone clean. And we all agreed: family dinners should always come with goggles. When was the last time you experienced something that wasn’t funny at the time, but NOW it is hysterical!???