“Mom, are you working again?”
It’s a question I’ve heard more times than I’d like to admit, often asked with innocent curiosity, but each time it cuts a little deeper. It’s a reminder that my two worlds—being a parent and being a professional—often collide in messy, imperfect, and exhausting ways. I love my children with every fiber of my being, and I also love the work I do. But the in-between? That’s where the guilt often lives.
For a long time, I chased the idea that I had to do everything right to be enough. Be fully present at work, crush deadlines, climb the ladder—and then race home to be the snack-making, story-reading, always-smiling mom. Somewhere between the Zoom calls and the bedtime routines, I realized I was constantly measuring myself against an invisible standard I’d never agreed to in the first place.
It took me a while to understand that being everything to everyone, all the time, wasn’t sustainable—or fair. I didn’t need to be perfect; I just needed to be present. So, I started carving out small, undistracted moments with my kids. Even if it was just 20 minutes on the floor with Legos or reading a book without checking my phone, I noticed those little windows of connection made all the difference—to them and me.
Work didn’t stop being demanding, but I got better at setting boundaries. I began blocking my calendar for school pickups, logging off for family dinners, and being honest with my team about when I was off the clock. I thought people would see me as less committed, but the opposite happened. The more I showed up as a real person with a messy kitchen and a toddler meltdown happening off-camera, the more trust I built with my colleagues.
I stopped comparing myself to other moms, especially the ones I saw on social media with their coordinated outfits and color-coded calendars. I realized that we’re all just doing our best with what we have. Some days, that look like homemade lunches and successful meetings. On other days, it’s cereal for dinner and emails at 10 p.m. Either way, it’s okay.
The hardest part is forgiving ourselves. The guilt never entirely disappears—it just changes shape. Some days, I feel bad for not being at the school drop-off. Other days, I feel I should be further ahead in my career. But I’ve started rewriting that narrative. My kids are growing up watching their mom build something she believes in. They see what hard work looks like. They know they’re loved, not because I’m perfect, but because I keep showing up.
I’ve also learned to lean on my village—my partner, friends, fellow moms, coworkers who get it. There’s magic in hearing someone say, “Yeah, this is hard,” and knowing you’re not alone. Some days, we tag each other in. Other days, we listen and remind each other that we’re doing better than we think.
I still have moments when guilt creeps in, but I try to meet it with grace, not shame. Because the truth is, being a working mom doesn’t make me less of a parent—it adds to the story I’m writing for my children. It is a story about resilience, purpose, and the beauty of doing things that matter, even when they’re hard.
If you’re a working mom reading this and wondering if you’re doing enough, you are. You are enough. You are seen. And you’re not alone in this wild, wonderful, often chaotic balancing act. We’re all in it together—one Lego-strewn floor and half-drunk coffee cup at a time.
