Hi! I haven’t posted in more than a month, despite good intentions, prompts, and “I’m gonna post weekly” commitment that was unbroken into July.

I’m betting you didn’t notice (I barely did), or if you did, you weren’t super worried about it. I only bring it up because of why I wasn’t posting.

I wrote a book.

Well, kinda. Me and eight very talented women.

I present to you:

The last month was heavy on my part of production (copyediting and proofreading), so I went a little quiet. It was a good quiet. A “head down, work hard” kind of quiet.

The job isn’t done yet, though. Because we didn’t write this book for fun (though it was) or for our own egos (though we are proud of it). We wrote it for you, for your friends, for the mamas you know. We wrote this to remind you you are…

Strong enough to heft a flailing, screaming toddler out of a grocery store.

Brave enough to teach babies how to be humans and launch them into the world.

Beautiful in your forever-changed body, wherever your hair growth (or loss) is at in the hormonal roller coaster, whatever the scale says, with all the stretch marks and saggy (or fantastic!) boobs.

These are stories. There are no experts on this team, only us—mamas who know the unspeakable burden and privilege of motherhood. We’re not the boss of you, but the stories of this group of moms—ranging from “granola” to “cheetos,” with all kinds of personality types, family sizes from one kid to seven—might illuminate your stories. They may even help you reframe yours.

They’re stories of hope. We don’t airbrush our messes, but each of us is committed to pointing you through the mess toward beauty.

They’re stories of hope for moms. Not a mom? Super! You’re welcome to read. I’d love for you to, actually. I think they’re illuminating whatever your life stage. But if you are a mom, this is especially for you.

These are stories of hope for moms in the weeds. Because, let’s face it: motherhood can bury us. We want to join you in the weeds, to give you a chuckle and some hope and mostly company because it can be lonely. While we’re here, let’s look at those weeds. Are some of them wildflowers?

But you said something about helping. This reads like a commercial.

No it doesn’t. There is a commercial (we call it a “trailer”) and if you’re interested, it’s here.

But yes. I would love your help.

Because I know you, but, as I mentioned, we wrote it for you and your friends and I don’t know your friends. Would you be up for spreading the word? We have a launch team that goes from September 21 through October. You get to read an early copy of Strong, Brave, & Beautiful, and we’d love if you’d read it and rate on Amazon and Goodreads. If you’d like, you can also be on our launch team. What’s that? Glad you asked. It’s a Facebook group, mostly, but the cool kind where there are easy, low-pressure, fun, gentle tasks. And also prizes. (Did you catch how not-bonkers we are? We’re living through 2020, too, so we’re not gonna heap a bunch of stupid extra work on you. Nobody needs that.) The only requirement is a.) that you want to do it and b.) that you know someone with offspring.

So. If this seems like something you’d like to do (either launch team or just reading and reviewing), fill out this form so we can get you your early copy. I’d love to have your help spreading the word.

Once again (because posts like this always seem to have it twice), CLICK HERE for the form.

Published by robininalaska

Robin Chapman is a part-time writer, editor, and birth photographer and a full-time imperfect mama, wife, Jesus follower, and normalizer of failure. She’s trying hard to learn how to do this motherhood thing in a way that doesn’t land the whole family in intensive therapy. She has a heart for helping other mamas buried in the little years with hope, humor, and solidarity. You can find her hiding out in the bathroom with an iced dirty chai, writing and editing and making spreadsheets for KindredMom.com where she is a cheerleader for mamas, or online looking for grace in her mundane and weird life. She lives in Fairbanks, Alaska with her four delightful (crazy) kids—some homeschooled, some public schooled, some too young for school at all—and her ridiculously good looking husband, Andrew.

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