I’m a supermom. But even I need the support of strangers when I’m down

Chrishell Stause is a supermom.

When she has a minute, she’s running soccer and karate practices. When she has a chance, she’s at home with the boys. And when she has a team to coach — her own boys — she’s at the Toyota Center on any given night.

But if a family friend offers to drive them to Sunday football games, the 40-year-old Stause happily takes the chance.

“Her whole life is what she’s there for,” said her sister, Shaina Stause-Anderson. “She’s always there to lift us up.”

Yet as impressive as Stause’s accomplishments are, she’s still one of hundreds of thousands of homeless in the District of Columbia. Last Thanksgiving, Chrishell Stause and Jason Oppenheim watched news reports about a group of well-dressed men arriving at the bus station to celebrate their turkey dinner. These were the men who stepped in after the housing office notified the homeless that they’d be moved because the grocery and grocery store space on Connecticut Avenue was unavailable.

“That’s my secret fear,” Stause said. “When people get displaced, we don’t know who’s going to come and help.”

That’s why the pair stayed in touch for a few days. They made their own turkeys and planned their own holiday dinner. They cooked. They shopped. They listened to rappers.

They also talked about what their gifts should be — and what kind of mother they should be.

“I’m a supermom,” Stause said. “That’s my identity. I try to give to them, because I don’t know what else to do. My sisters are their lives.”

But she’s also someone who can smile — even when she’s on the verge of crying.

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