I Regret to Inform You I Only Have Two Hands

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You know that moment when everyone needs something from you at the exact same time and your entire family is looking at you like you were born with eight arms?

Emily Busby knows that feeling well.

One Memorial Day, she was in the kitchen trying to get food ready while her kids were barking orders from every direction. Her husband walked in from grilling and said, “Mommy has two hands. Give her a second. She’s not an octopus.”

And then they realized…wait. That’s a book.

Mommy’s Not an Octopus

Emily is the author of Mommy’s Not an Octopus, a children’s book that started as a joke but became something much deeper.

It’s funny for kids, but it’s also a love letter to moms.

Because somewhere along the way, a lot of us absorbed the idea that good moms just figure it out. We keep going. We carry the mental load. We anticipate everyone’s needs. We become the snack coordinator, schedule keeper, emotional support animal, laundry manager, and household search engine.

And then we wonder why we’re exhausted.

Emily, a former college athlete, talked about how much of her identity was built around pushing harder, doing more, and figuring it out. But motherhood did not respond to that strategy the way sports did.