For two long years, I deceived myself into believing I was successfully juggling work and family life. Before 2013, I was self-employed, spending perhaps three hours a day working, all while fitting in yoga sessions and leisurely browsing the toddler clothing section at Target. With a background in law, having completed grad school before becoming a mother, I was determined to make the most of my education. I wanted to set an example for my daughter, showing her that a successful working mother could indeed have it all.
However, I was miserable in my full-time role, and my family was paying the price. I often needed multiple reminders to bring supplies for school events and twice this year I forgot my daughter’s turn to bring snacks—something that only happens twice a year. I missed every parent event at my son’s kindergarten and received reports from other mothers about comforting him when he cried. Just last month, I dropped my daughter off only to learn there was no school that day—apparently, I missed the notification.
I was failing at the so-called “having it all” concept. Mornings were a chaotic race where I yelled, “Get your shoes on! We’re going to be late!” every day. Breakfast was often skipped, socks rarely matched, and teeth went unbrushed. I struggled to detangle my daughter’s curls as she cried, never engaging with her teachers or seeing any of the projects they worked on. A nanny picked them up daily, and I hadn’t volunteered at their schools in two years because my executive position exempted me from parental leave laws. My boss certainly wasn’t going to give me any time off.
On a recent Monday, I dropped my daughter off and realized I was the only parent who forgot to bring a shoebox for Valentine’s Day decorations—there were no extras available. Arriving at work clutching a chai and my makeup bag, I was met by the new passive-aggressive president, who seemed intimidated by me. He ushered me into the conference room where my belongings were already packed. “We’re going in a different direction,” he said.
After returning home and taking a shower, I met with my lawyer. This day had been a long time coming. When I got home to the kids and the nanny, I informed them that I now had more time to spend with them since I was no longer employed. I was terrified, but they were ecstatic.
The following Tuesday, I donned yoga pants and zipped up a fleece to take the kids to school. Yet again, I forgot the shoebox. I tried to convince my daughter to use a different box we had at home, but she was having none of it. She insisted on a pink and white striped shoebox from Target, just like two other girls. So, off I went to Target.
Wandering through the store at 8:30 a.m. on a Tuesday felt surreal. As I approached the gift-wrapping aisle, I spotted the last pink and white striped shoebox sitting alone on a shelf. I nearly danced in excitement; it felt like a small victory after so long. This is what winning at motherhood must feel like! I resisted the urge to text my husband about this triumph since he wouldn’t understand.
While I was there, I thought, “I should also buy some Valentines a few days early.” This was a new experience for me; I was not used to having my choice of seasonal merchandise.
Twenty minutes later, I walked into the preschool with the shoebox hidden behind my back. Seeing my daughter’s priceless smile as I entered her classroom was rewarding beyond words; when she spotted the shoebox, I nearly shed tears. Surprising her like that was a first.
Later that afternoon, while picking up my son from kindergarten, a mom friend asked how I was managing after losing my job. “It’s tough, but I’m winning at motherhood this week,” I replied. She smiled knowingly.
On Wednesday morning, when I dropped off my daughter, her teacher inquired whether I would be returning for Parents’ Day. I hadn’t even put it on my calendar because I had no plans to attend—after all, I was unemployed now! But I committed to being there at 9:30.
When I returned, the scene was chaotic; children were crying as their parents left. One girl sobbed because her mother was late. In that moment, I was flooded with guilt thinking about the emotional toll I had unknowingly placed on my daughter over the past year. I asked her teacher, “Does my daughter cry like this when I miss events?” Miss Kenly chuckled softly and reassured me, “No, she doesn’t have that kind of anxiety about separation.”
That afternoon, my son was in tears over losing a red string from an art project. We retraced his steps and found three tiny pieces that he made me tie together. Later, we went to the park where we flew his kite like we had all the time in the world.
This morning, as we walked hand-in-hand toward kindergarten, he asked if I had time to check out the rain forest painting his class was working on. “Absolutely, Bub. I’m not in a hurry.” “Because you don’t have a job to be at anymore?” he asked. “I have a job, Bub. Being your mommy is my job.” He squeezed my hand a little tighter.
Yes, I am scared about what lies ahead and how to support my family, but my heart feels fuller than it has in a long time. I need to update my resume and start job hunting, but today can wait; I have a Valentine’s Day party to attend.
In Summary
Transitioning from a demanding job to being a full-time mother has brought about mixed emotions. While worries about financial stability loom, the joys of being present for my children have filled my heart with gratitude and fulfillment. It’s a new chapter in life that I’m ready to embrace, even if it means figuring out how to navigate the challenges ahead.