Being a Working Mom
Being a working mom feels like living in two worlds at once—one where you're striving, building, achieving, and another where tiny hands tug at your shirt, reminding you that your most important job is waiting at home. Some days, I feel like I’m managing it all. Other days, it feels like everything is slipping through my fingers—emails unanswered, deadlines looming, and a little voice asking why you can’t stop what you’re doing to play. Cue the mom guilt.
I don’t ever remember making a definitive decision about having a career before I had kids. I never aspired to climb the corporate ladder but never dreamt of being a stay-at-home mom either. I just always imagined I would find a rhythm—some magical balance where I could be fully present at work and fully present at home. Spoiler: that balance doesn’t exist. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have been extremely blessed in the roles I have had during motherhood. I’ve been granted work from home flexibility, 4-day work weeks, understanding supervisors, and more. I fully understand how lucky I am, because not all women can say that. But I also recognize that I prioritized that, and didn’t accept anything less than that from day one. The minute that I became a mother, I knew that my career was going to look different.
I had an experience a few years ago that I will never forget. I was approached by a leader about an open position within her organization. She reached out to me and asked me if I would be willing to discuss the role with her. So, I did. During the discussion she asked me what I valued most in a job. I told her flexibility. I went on to describe life with two young daughters, and how much value I placed on being home in time to get them off the bus, attend the school plays, volunteer for the holiday parties, eat dinner together, etc. She listened and nodded, I knew she was a mom herself and assumed this would resonate with her. It was then she said to me, “That’s great, we are flexible, but I also want you know that we work really hard here.” I was stunned. There was a clear implication that women who require flexibility do not work hard. At that moment, I should have ended the discussion. There was no point in continuing, because this was NOT the place for me. I went on to join an amazing organization that recognized me as a mother first and an employee second and let me tell you- I worked HARD while being both.
Even with all of the blessings I have been given throughout my careers, I’ve learned that being a working mom isn’t about perfection; it’s about constantly shifting, adjusting, and giving myself grace in the in-between.
Society tells us to be two things at once: a dedicated career woman and an all-in, Pinterest-level mom. We’re expected to climb the ladder, chase our ambitions, and prove that motherhood hasn’t slowed us down—while also being the parent who signs up for bake sales, plans the perfect birthday parties, and never ever forgets to pack the extra snack.
It’s impossible! The pressure to do it all, and do it all flawlessly, is an unattainable standard that leaves moms feeling like we’re failing—no matter how much we pour into our work or our families. Let’s not even dive into what society expects from men and fathers- that’s a whole other topic for another time!
Most days, I feel proud of the work I do. Other days, the guilt of missing a moment—a school event, a bedtime story, just one more hug—feels crushing. But here’s what I need to constantly remind myself: being a working mom doesn’t mean I’m failing at motherhood. It means I’m showing my kids what it looks like to chase a dream, to work hard, and to love them fiercely through it all. I can only hope that I am setting an example for my children, that you can be more than one thing, but you don’t need to be perfect at any of them!
I know that I won’t always get it right, and I am sure that the balance will always feel a little off. But maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop chasing perfection and start embracing the messy, average reality of doing our best—both at work and at home.
