If you are a mother, I am certain that you have heard the term “Momager” and if you haven’t, then you will most definitely relate to the term once you learn what it is!

As moms, we manage it all. Now, I can’t speak for every mom everywhere, but in our house, shit doesn’t get done unless I’m there suggesting it, telling someone to do it, putting it into the calendar* or just doing it myself! Not to say that my husband does nothing around here or that my kids aren’t learning to pitch in at a very early age. Just that, sure. It’s Brad’s job to vacuum. But do you think the vacuuming actually gets done if I don’t suggest it?

You would be correct in assuming no. Which is why it didn’t get done last weekend as I was in a mood where I just didn’t feel like telling anyone what to do. Especially with something that they’re supposed to do on their own.

It doesn’t get me very far when I’m in those moods (as, you guessed it, things don’t get done!), but it feels good not to have to put on my Momager hat sometimes.

Okay, coming back around to the term, Momager. Think Manager. But Mom. Momager.

I use the term in jest because if you look up the definition in the Urban Dictionary (it’s not an actual word – it’s not in the Webster’s Dictionary) the definition suggests a pageant mom or a mom that professionally manages her children. And that’s not the case here. I am by no means a professional!

But, still. The managing duties, the social calendar and extra-curricular activities rest on my shoulders.

And, let me tell you, it can be exhausting.

I like to be organized. I like to plan. I’m easy going if plans cannot be made or if they change, but I like to know what I can about what’s going on. I am most definitely Type A.

Baby Feet in Argyle Socks Being Held by Mom

I’m not saying that being a Momager is a bad thing. I’m not ready to say that it’s entirely good either. But it is something that I think should be recognized. There’s a reason why my husband didn’t leave the house with the kids when I was gone for four days last summer except once to go to the park and for dinner. Once. In four days. He doesn’t have the Momager instincts and would rather just do what’s easy. Be told what to do and have help doing it, or stay home.

Just between you and me, I wish that wasn’t the case. But there’s only so much I can do about that.

For now I’ll just be Anya Wyers. Writer. Mama. Momager. And so much more to come.

Stay tuned,


* I book most everything with the clear exception of haircuts…my husband’s hair doesn’t get cut unless he schedules his own damn appointment himself. I’m not his mom. But on that note, he’s been booking Archer in for his haircuts, too, which I am 100% supportive of!

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