My 4-year-old son said I was 'soft like a pillow

Hey friend!

Picture this...

It's Sunday afternoon. I'm sprawled on the couch, laptop balanced precariously while trying to answer emails that should've been answered a week prior.

My 4-year-old son is treating me like his personal jungle gym—poking my arms, then my stomach, completely fascinated by something.

Then he drops this bomb with ALL the tact of a preschooler:

"Mommy, you're soft like my pillow!"

Cue my 3-year-old twins abandoning their toys to bounce on what they clearly see as the family's most comfortable piece of furniture.

"Mommy's squishy!" one declares with pure delight.

I laughed it off because... kids say the darndest things, right?

But here's the thing...

Later that night, after the chaos settled and little bodies were tucked into bed, his words kept playing on repeat.

Soft like a pillow.

And I realized he wasn't wrong.

Not about my body (though let's be real, things had... shifted since having three kids in two years).

But about how I'd started showing up in our family.

Here's what I mean:

Somewhere along the way, I'd become the "comfortable" parent. The one who was always sitting, always tired, always available to be climbed on because I'd stopped moving with intention.

When my husband played football with our son in the backyard? I was inside, being the soft landing for whoever needed a snuggle.

And listen—I LOVE being their comfort. But I'd forgotten how to be strong FOR them, not just soft WITH them.

That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks:

My kids were learning what it means to be a woman by watching me.

And right now? I was teaching them that moms are tired. That we're always available. That we don't have our own energy or strength—we just exist to absorb theirs.

Ouch.

So here's what I did:

The next morning, I dug out my old workout clothes (buried under a pile of laundry, naturally) and told my son:

"Mommy's going to get strong."

He looked confused. "But you're strong mommy!"

"I want to be strong enough to chase you," I said.

And you know what?

That first workout was TERRIBLE. I was winded after ten minutes. My form was questionable at best.

But when I came home, sweaty and energized for the first time in months, my son's eyes went wide.

Mommy your sweating.

Three weeks later, the same kid who called me "soft like a pillow" watched me bang out push-ups which his dad struggles to do. Shhh 🤫 don’t tell him I said that

But here's what REALLY changed:

I stopped being furniture.

I started playing chase instead of just watching from the sidelines.

I carried both twins at the same time just because I could.

I showed them that being gentle doesn't mean being weak. That being nurturing doesn't mean being depleted.

And my daughters? They're watching too.

They're learning that women can be both soft AND strong. That taking care of yourself isn't selfish—it's necessary.

So here's my question for you:

Your kids are watching you right now. Every single day.

They're forming their ideas about what it means to be a woman. What strength looks like. What self-care means.

What story is your body telling them?

What do you want them to remember about how their mom showed up?

Hit reply and tell me what would change if you decided to get strong not just for yourself, but for the little eyes watching you every day?

I'll be here, cheering you on.

xoxo, Kai

P.S. If you're ready to stop being the "comfortable parent" and start showing your kids what strong looks like, I have 3 spots open in my next group. No gym required, no complicated meal plans just real workouts for real moms who want to feel powerful again. Hit reply if you want details.

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