Shaping the Crazy

Some days I wonder if working moms were set up to fail from the start.

I’m a single mom of two, and I’ve spent years trying to build a career while raising my kids, keeping a home running, paying the bills, remembering appointments, grocery shopping, doing laundry, worrying about everyone, and somehow trying to remain a whole person somewhere in the middle of it all.

There is very little room for anything to go wrong.

When one of my kids is sick and I have to call in, I immediately feel the weight of disappointing my boss or coworkers. I start thinking about the meetings I’ll miss, the work that will pile up, and the people who will have to cover for me.

But if I don’t stay home, the guilt swings in the other direction.

Because these are my kids.

And no deadline, meeting or deliverable will ever matter to me as much as they do.

That’s the strange impossible space so many working mothers live in.

At work, we’re expected to perform as though we don’t have children.

At home, we’re expected to parent as though we don’t have jobs.

And somewhere in between, we’re supposed to keep the house relatively clean, buy groceries, make dinner, answer emails, maintain friendships, nurture relationships, remember birthdays, plan appointments, pay bills and perhaps — if there’s anything left — take care of ourselves.

As a single mom, there often isn’t another person to hand the ball to.

There isn’t always someone saying, I’ve got this one.

Sometimes you just keep juggling because there really isn’t another option.

And it’s exhausting.

We’re constantly told to lean in. Work hard. Be ambitious. Be present. Practice self-care. Make memories with our kids. Build a career. Save for retirement. Keep a clean house. Exercise. Cook healthy meals.

Do it all.

But the truth is, no matter which direction we lean, something else sometimes topples over.

And then comes the guilt.

Always the guilt.

Am I letting down my boss?

Am I letting down my kids?

Am I doing enough at home?

Am I working hard enough?

Am I present enough?

And somewhere near the bottom of that list:

Am I letting down myself?

For years, I think I quietly measured myself against an impossible standard. If something wasn’t getting enough attention, my first thought wasn’t that I had too much on my plate.

It was that I should somehow be better at carrying it.

More organized.

More patient.

More productive.

More capable.

More everything.

I’m trying to unlearn that.

I’m trying to give myself a little more grace.

Because maybe the problem isn’t that working mothers aren’t good enough at doing everything.

Maybe doing everything was never a reasonable expectation in the first place.

There will be days when work gets more of me.

There will be days when my kids need more.

There will be laundry sitting in baskets, emails unanswered, dishes in the sink and plans that get cancelled.

There will also be nights when I look around and realize we made it through another day.

And maybe that counts for more than I used to think.

I used to believe strength meant keeping all the balls in the air.

Now I think strength might also mean realizing that sometimes you have to let a few of them fall.

Pick up the important ones.

Leave the others on the floor for a while.

And stop apologizing for being human.

So to every working mom — and especially every single mom — who feels like she’s dropping balls left and right:

You’re not alone.

You were never supposed to carry a career, a family, a household, everyone’s emotional needs and your own dreams perfectly at the same time.

And maybe we shouldn’t have to call ourselves warriors simply because we’re exhausted from trying.

But here we are.

Still showing up.

Still loving our kids.

Still building lives.

Still trying.

Still becoming.

And on the days when it doesn’t all fit neatly together, I’m learning to remind myself:

That isn’t failure.

That’s life. ❤️