M Is for Mama

Welcome to the unapologetically messy, maddening,
and miraculous world of motherhood.

Abbie Halberstadt

Hello, and welcome!

I’m Abbie, mama to ten, wife to one amazing guy, Bible-believing Christian, and much more. Join me as I share the ways the Lord has grown me through the years and the simple rhythms I have learned that have helped me cultivate a culture of peace (with a side of crazy) in our home.

Find Hope Amid the Hard Moments of Motherhood

Discover how God can use your everyday trials to grow you to become more like Jesus and radically transform how you view the hard parts of motherhood.

M Is Not for Mediocre

The M Is for Mama book offers advice, encouragement, and scripturally sound strategies seasoned with a little bit of humor to help you embrace the challenge of biblical motherhood and raise your children with love and wisdom.

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Titus and Tobias are 18 MONTHS OLD!! Kind of can

I taught high school Spanish (and some ESL and AP

I taught high school Spanish (and some ESL and AP English) for 10 years: 3 years in public school, 3 years in Christian private school, and 4 years at our homeschool co-op.

I enjoyed all (well, most 😬) of my teaching experiences.

But the thing that felt like the most pressure was when parents of the Christian private school students sent their sons + daughters to me (and the other teachers) with the clear expectation they would come home, not only better versed in their school subjects, but holier as well.

It was a sort of unspoken code: y’all better straighten out my son or keep my daughter on the narrow path bc I’m paying good money for this. It was clear school was the only place some kids were getting sound biblical instruction.

It grieved me that parents were entrusting their children’s spiritual education to us along with their academics, and while I most certainly did my best to get in as much prayer + Scripture as I could in between Spanish verb tenses, it was still limited.

And that’s ok! It was not actually my job to do the primary discipling of these kids in the ways of the Lord. They hadn’t been entrusted to me by God for that.

My own kids had, though, which is why I scaled back to part-time when Ezra and Simon were babies and then took an 8 year break before returning to teach one day a week when we joined a co-op.

Deut. 6:7 says, “You shall teach them (God’s laws) diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.”

Sunday school teachers, AWANA leaders, coaches, Christian school teachers…they can all be great. But it’s not their primary *job* to live out God’s command to train up our children in His instruction.

It’s ours.

I want to encourage you that, weighty calling though it is, it’s worth the effort, both bc it shows obedience to God and bc of the seeds that we have the opportunity to plant (and watch God grow).

If this feels overwhelming, and you don’t know where to start 1. Ask God for wisdom. He gives it freely and w/out reproach. 2. Swipe right for a list of helpful resources

I’d love to hear your suggestions too!

A reader recently asked me what I do to avoid feel

A reader recently asked me what I do to avoid feeling “touched out.”

As a mama who gets petted, stroked, scratched, sat on, hugged, climbed, slapped (thanks #twinbies), kissed, tackled, and about 13 other verbs I’ve forgotten all day every day, the answer is that I am beyond “touched out” by the end of most days.

I talk about this in the #misformamabook but every time I feel that if one more hand tugs at my arm, I really will jump out of my own skin, I remember when the woman with the chronic bleeding reaches out to Jesus, and he feels power leave his body. “Who touched me?” he asks.

And his disciples are incredulous. You see the crowds pressing around, and yet you can ask, “Who touched me?” They don’t get it.

Neither do I.

And yet, I take heart in knowing that my Savior, who is beseeched by untold legions of requests for help every moment of every day and who, when he lived on this earth, endured constant touching from throngs of eager, desperate, jostling, needy people, still notices when one desperate woman reaches out for healing.

What a testimony to his tender care.

How do I avoid being “touched out?”

I don’t know. But I do know to whom I can look for an example of supernatural patience and attention to individual need.

I can’t emulate his example in my own strength, but I can with his help.

Being “touched out” doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom. It just means you’re human. Praise God he gives us the super-human ability to give one more hug, bandage one more scrape, and accept one more sloppy, slurpy kiss.

P.S. I also told this reader that there was nothing wrong with taking a break from our kids, and one of the best God-given forms of respite we should utilize if we can is sibling interactions. Spread that “touch” around. 😉

Let’s ignore the fact that Evy and Nola (9) sudd

Let’s ignore the fact that Evy and Nola (9) suddenly look like teenagers 😭 and focus on the fact that they are STILL voluntarily getting up early on Saturday mornings to make breakfast for the family. But nowadays, I no longer feel a sinking pit of dread in my stomach that I will have to choke down rock hard scones or under-salted eggs.

(You can swipe to see how I felt about this new tradition a little over a year ago).

At that time, I had 5-month-old twins who woke up 4 times a night each on opposite schedules. I was doing #misformamabook edits, homeschooling, teaching early morning fitness classes, and reeeeaaally not liking that “Saturday Breakfasts with Evy and Nola” were consistently an exercise in “guess which ingredient we forgot this time!” 😬

Not to mention that the kitchen resembled a baking war zone when they were done.

Fast-forward to now.

My babies sleep through the night. The book is written/launched. We’ve only got about 8 weeks left in our homeschool year. My schedule at my new gym is so much kinder. And every Saturday morning, my daughters whip up a delicious hot breakfast that I don’t have to plan or execute.

The difference between last year and this?

Mostly time. And (for them) experience.

So often, I get DMs from mamas who say, “I’ve been trying ________ for three weeks, and it’s not working. Help!”

And I think: “Give it six months without giving up.”

Too often, we make big decisions based on the hard that we’re facing *right now* (think: school choices, v*sectomies, church hurt) when, if we’d have just hung in there a bit longer, prayed without ceasing, swallowed our pride, and eaten one more chip-a-tooth scone, we’d have seen (at least a tiny) breakthrough.

I’m so glad I didn’t shut down Evy and Nola’s breakfast gig when I so desperately wanted to. Seeing them confidently move around the kitchen fills me with so much joy now, and I would have robbed them (and my belly) of so much goodness if I’d only listened to the hard.

Pretty much learning a lesson every day in #hardisnotthesamethingasbad I’m just thrilled that this one tastes so good.

Feeling extra grateful to have Shaun with us this

Feeling extra grateful to have Shaun with us this Sunday as he had to leave for a week-long work trip last Sunday morning (the morning after the #misformamabook launch party).

He surprised us by snagging the last seat on a flight home Friday evening (he wasn’t supposed to get home until Saturday night), and let me tell you: just about nothing beats the joy of having Daddy home a day early!

A reader messaged me that she appreciated my matter-of-fact approach to Shaun’s being gone on work trips. Her own husband travels for 3+ weeks at a time, and she sometimes tires of people’s effusive comments about what a rock star she is for solo-parenting when, after all, she and her husband both agreed to this life, and she is happy to support him from home.

I agree! I am grateful for how hard Shaun works to provide for our family, and I love knowing he has confidence in me to keep running the household well while he’s gone. I am not a victim of his work trips.

Still. The truth is also that, while Shaun has traveled for work our entire marriage, and I’m used to it (and don’t find that complaining about it helps), there have been seasons when it did, indeed, feel like a superhuman effort to be all things to all people (aka: 5-7 small humans).

Being in a season with older kids when, while I miss my husband when he’s gone, it doesn’t feel like I’m counting down the hours until his return, I’m able to see what a gift those especially lonely + difficult seasons were.

I learned to find friendship in my children’s company, to occupy my time in useful ways (so much wallpapering + painting 🤪), and, most importantly, to rely primarily on the Lord—not my husband—for strength.

Yes, I’m thrilled Shaun is home!

But I’m also grateful for the ways God has grown me in the hard seasons.

Bc #hardisnotthesamethingasbad

Tell me: what has the Lord been gracious to teach you in hard seasons?

P.S. I really do think you mamas who weather deployment or whose husbands travel for long stretches are the real V.I.P.s 👊🏻

I remember a post going viral about a mom’s bein

I remember a post going viral about a mom’s being sick of the little old ladies telling her to “enjoy every moment” WHILE her daughter angrily screeched and tried to Houdini herself out of the cart and her son pulled every item of clothing off its hanger.

Like, really, ma’am? THIS moment? I’m supposed to be cherishing losing my mind RIGHT NOW?

(It’s a bit tone deaf, honestly, and those older ladies would make more of an impact by bagging our apples while we deal with the toddler than by “exhorting” us to have fun while we’re drowning).

For years, I’ve seen a huge uptick in the “right” to not only NOT cherish the hard moments but to declare them the dumpster fires we perceive them to be. Anyone trying to remind us of how fast it goes gets blasted.

But lately, I’ve seen a reel circulating with an audio that warns moms that you “only get *little* kids for four years” and to enjoy every minute so we don’t miss it.

I’ve also seen the inevitable backlash about how this makes some moms feel as if they *have* missed it already and adds to their stress levels.

As a mama of 10 with teens and babies, both are valid. It’s overwhelming to think of cherishing ANYTHING hard in our own strength, but it’s still important to remember just how little time we really have to impact them for God’s kingdom.

So, what to do?

I propose a small perspective shift.

Shiloh (3) was a hard toddler. Delightful, but also HARD.

When he was at the height of doing something frustrating one day, I said, with a forced smile, “Hey guys, Shiloh is a blessing from the Lord.”

We all laughed bc it was the opposite of how we *felt* in that moment. But it ended up sticking. Whenever Shiloh would rage, I would say out loud to my kids, “Shiloh is a blessing from the Lord,” and we would grin at each other.

That tiny shift/truth was the grace that each of us needed to weather his harder moments. It helped so much, even if only as an inside joke for, “Shiloh is being a toot.”

Maybe we don’t have to be hammered with the need to love every moment. Maybe we can simply trust that God is gracious to supply us with what we need just when we need it.

And that is more than enough.

Ever since the #misformamabook launch party, I’v

Ever since the #misformamabook launch party, I’ve been (recovering, but also…) mulling over what made the event such a joyous—almost fantastical—night.

Was it the balmy weather? The 150 smiling faces of the kindred spirits who attended? The sight of my sweet Della working the merch table with poise beyond her years? The delicious almond croissants? The beautiful flowers? Having my own mama in the room as I spoke?

The answer is a resounding YES TO ALL.

But.

For ME, the thing that will cement this event in my mind forever as a success and a memory to treasure was having Shaun there—the way he: never showed a hint of how meeting lots of new people is not his favorite 😬 as he smiled at and chatted with and welcomed every guest, stood by my side as I signed books, put his hand of support on the small of my back to walk me over to the church to speak, and then ran sound + beamed at me the whole time.

The words of affirmation and praise he lavished on me after I spoke filled my soul to the brim with gratitude to the Lord for his kindness in granting me my Alby (if you’ve read the #misformamabook dedication, you just had an “aha moment” 😉).

I know #internationalwomensday was a few days ago, and I’m “supposed” to be celebrating all of the strong females in my life, but the greatest human influence for good of my adult years has been this man.

And so I celebrate the joy that it is to have (not a perfect marriage but) a husband who gets the point of M is for Mama and is enthusiastically bolstering and instrumental in everything you see here. What a privilege to have his wisdom, leadership, and support.

Love you, babe. Really, really.

P.S. I’ll be sharing all about the rest of the event (with more dreamy pictures from Jessica Helgesen Photography) in my newsletter (misformama.net/subscribe) and my blog, so stay tuned for that!

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