More Than Mom Life

Lottery Zillow Daydreams

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Mom

Off Script: Zillow Daydreams & Powerball Fantasies

Zillow and the $500 Million Mansion I’ll Never Buy

I’m not going to lie, I do buy lottery tickets from time to time.

In my head, I’ve walked through a Malibu cliffside mansion with a full glass wall that folds open to the ocean. I’ve picked out towel colors for the spa bathroom. I’ve imagined myself sipping coffee on a patio where the sun rises behind the mountains and sets over the water—because apparently, in my imagination, I control geography too.

And on nights when everything is heavy—the house is a mess, the bank account is low, and the kids are fighting over who gets the last toaster waffle—I pull up Zillow and start scrolling.

Not for anything realistic. Not for “starter homes” or sensible places in my zip code. No. I zoom out. I search by price descending, not ascending. I want the fantasy. I want the if. I want the what if everything was easier?

Why We Zillow Scroll and Lottery Dream

We all have different escape hatches. Some people book fake vacations. Some fill carts on Amazon and never check out. Some spend hours on Pinterest saving images of pantries that could never exist without a personal assistant and zero children.

But the common thread is this: our brains need a break.

The human mind is not built to live in constant fight-or-flight, decision fatigue, and emotional multitasking. So when life feels out of control—financially, emotionally, relationally—we reach for imagined control.

The lottery gives us that feeling of a fresh start without the pain of getting there. It skips over all the struggle and drops us straight into security.

Zillow? Zillow gives us space. Space from roommates, kids, exes, responsibilities. Zillow says: here is a clean room where no one is yelling. Here is a kitchen that’s never known a sticky syrup spill or a meltdown over the wrong brand of cereal. Here is a closet big enough to hold your chaos—and hide it.

It’s Not Just Delusion. It’s Coping.

Let’s be clear: there’s a line between numbing and coping. When we scroll endlessly to avoid real problems, we’re just postponing pain. But these daydreams? They’re not always a waste. Sometimes, they’re a signal.

They’re a sign we need rest, space, hope. We need to believe things can feel better than they do right now. And until we can move or make a change or scream into the void, a little fantasy gives us something vital:

A taste of peace.

So Why Does This Belong on a Mom Blog?

Because this is the stuff we don’t talk about.

We talk about the laundry and the meal plans and the back-to-school shopping. But we don’t talk about the quiet places our minds go when it all gets too loud.

We don’t talk about how sometimes the only thing that gets us through a hard night is a fake walk-in closet with three skylights and a wine fridge.

We don’t talk about how we crave beauty and calm—not because we’re spoiled or shallow—but because we are tired.

You’re Not Crazy. You’re Tired.

You’re not failing because you want something else. You’re not foolish because you imagined a life with a marble kitchen island and a pool shaped like a violin. You’re human. You’re imaginative. And somewhere in your brain, you are building a softer life—even if it’s only in pixels for now.

So go ahead. Scroll the $12 million homes. Pick your pool tile. Imagine your quiet coffee moment.

Then close the app, take a breath, and give yourself a little more grace.

Reality may not be oceanfront, but you’re still here. You’re still showing up. And that, my friend, is worth more than any jackpot.

Want to add a “tiny luxury” to your real life? I’ll be posting a list of little upgrades under Tried + Reviewed soon—budget-friendly things that help you reclaim a corner of calm without winning the Powerball.

💬 Do you daydream this way too? What’s your fantasy home must-have? Comment below or DM me. No shame in the Zillow game.

📚 Further Reading: When You Need to Mentally Escape

Here are a few articles that explore why we daydream, scroll, and mentally check out—and how it might be helping more than you think:

🧠 No shame in the scroll. Just know when you’re soothing—and when you’re avoiding.

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