Let me give you a little backstory on what has shaped me into the person I am today. As an Enneagram 1—the “Perfectionist”—and a Virgo (also known for perfectionist tendencies), it probably won’t surprise you that I’m also the oldest of three siblings… which, yes, has only fueled my perfectionist streak. From a young age, I naturally gravitated toward responsibility. I took pride in following the rules, doing things “right,” and, quite frankly, feeling like if I handled something, it would be done correctly—maybe even better than anyone else. This mindset led me to continually take on more and more responsibility, shouldering a load that I felt only I could carry.

Quick side note—no one ever asked me to take on all this extra responsibility. This was an inner dialogue, a decision I made within myself. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming…

My perfectionist mindset pushed me to shoulder more and more, and with that, I wanted everything I took on to be done perfectly. So, I poured all my energy into making sure every detail was just right. Eventually, I was so focused on achieving perfection that “fun” slowly drifted out of my vocabulary. As I got older, this focus only intensified; I became increasingly goal-oriented, with little room left for play.

Somewhere along the way, I started believing that to achieve my goals, I had to be serious, keep my head down, and work relentlessly. “There’s no time for fun,” I told myself. “Everything has to get done first, then we can relax.” But here’s the catch: things are never fully done, and nothing is ever truly perfect. So, you end up in this endless cycle, chasing an ideal that doesn’t exist. Fun becomes an afterthought, always waiting on the sidelines while you spin in circles, trying to make everything flawless.

I had always imagined myself as the mom who would sit on the floor and play with her kids, who’d lay down and color, create entire imaginary worlds, and dive into games of hide and seek or make-believe. I wanted to be that mom, the one who could let go and just enjoy the moment. But the truth was, I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to let go of the weight of responsibility, to allow myself to just sit and have fun. I didn’t know where to start, or what it would look like.

Part of me was so attached to my identity as the serious, responsible, “get things done” mom that I was afraid to let it go. If I allowed myself to be anything else, who would I be? Would anyone recognize me? Would they still love and accept me? These questions held me back, leaving me longing for something I wasn’t sure I could ever be.

I remember when I first started working with my life coach, we sat down to map out a vision of my best life ever. I told her I wanted to be that house—the one all the kids wanted to visit. I wanted them to feel loved, safe, and accepted every time they walked through the door. I wanted them to know there would be snacks, games, a listening ear, and a hug if they needed it. If they needed someone to tell them they did a great job, give them a high five, or even gently steer them in the right direction, I wanted them to feel secure and supported in our home.

But then, a question hit me: How could I be the “fun house” when I didn’t even know how to have fun myself?

And that’s when Operation Silly Goose was born.

This became my opportunity to learn how to have fun, to embrace silliness, and to let go of always taking myself so seriously. It was my chance to release the weight of responsibilities that weren’t even mine to carry, to ask for help when I needed it, and to trust both myself and the people around me. I wanted to believe that they could love and accept me—even as a “Silly Goose”—and not just as the responsible, serious one.

And so, here we are, two years into this journey… and what a fun ride it has been! Truly, for lack of a better word, it’s been fun. My almost 7-year-old has played an essential role in making Operation Silly Goose a success. She’s the type of kid who can turn any moment into an adventure, full of boundless energy and laughter—even when it’s wildly inconvenient. By watching her, mimicking her playful spirit, and following her lead, I’ve learned how to loosen up, embrace joy, and not take life so seriously. She’s shown me how to enjoy spontaneous moments, like spreading a blanket on the living room floor for an impromptu dinner picnic or diving into make-believe games that transport me back to childhood. Through her, I’ve discovered how to be vulnerable, how to let go of the relentless pursuit of perfection, and how to enjoy trying—like attempting a backbend walkover (still a work in progress).

When I first began Operation Silly Goose, I didn’t exactly announce it to the world. I didn’t even tell my family; the only person who knew was my life coach. In those early days, she gave me simple, silly tasks—like standing in front of the mirror and having a full conversation in pure gibberish. It felt absurd at first, but it pushed me to let go and loosen up (seriously, try it if you’re feeling bold!). She even had me sing “Happy Birthday” in a robot voice. It was silly, it was freeing, and it was exactly what I needed to start learning how to have fun again.

I remember doing that exercise, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in a robot voice, while my family looked on as if I had completely lost it. When I finished, my youngest daughter tilted her head and asked, “Why did you do that?” I simply replied, “I just wanted to be silly.” Her response? “Well, that was weird.” Ouch. My ego took a hit. I wasn’t used to being seen as anything but the serious, composed, responsible mom who had all the answers—not the mom who sang in robot voices or did silly things.

For a moment, I felt the temptation to retreat, to say, “You know what, you’re right. Let’s forget this ever happened and go back to the way things were.” But I recognized that urge for what it was: fear. Fear of change. Fear of being rejected for embracing a new side of myself.

I realized that my family would love me unconditionally, regardless of my journey. By embracing the fun-loving mom I was becoming—the one who knows how to play, laugh, and sing silly songs—I could enhance our family life in extraordinary ways. I knew I couldn’t let my ego pull me back, so I committed to this journey of joy. I began to embrace silliness, making funny voices and cracking jokes, letting laughter fill our home.

It was often my little one who would call me out, and it caught me off guard each time. However, I soon realized this was her way of coping with change. Everything about this new, fun version of me—the mom who played more, laughed more, and embraced a more relaxed approach—was unfamiliar to her. What if she allowed herself to grow comfortable with this joyful mom, only to have her disappear?

In that moment, I realized I needed to be open, honest, and vulnerable with my family. I wanted to share that I’ve lived much of my life in a serious manner, but I longed to embrace a more playful side. I wanted to enjoy my time with them without feeling weighed down by responsibilities that felt unimportant or unrelated to our family life. Through these small conversations with my kids, I noticed their guard began to lower. As they became more accepting of my silly moments and unexpected behavior, I found it easier to fully step into this new role.

Now, two years into Operation Silly Goose, I’m on cloud nine to say we’re flourishing!—who knew having fun could be this rewarding? I can’t wait to see where this wild and wonderful journey takes us next!

Stay tuned!