As working mothers, we often feel wired for guilt—it's relentless. I know it intimately as a mom and writer, and here's my story…
“Mommy?” “Yes, honey.”
I’m struggling to stay patient. I’ve already gently asked him six times to watch Fireman Sam quietly.
“Why do you have to work?” “Because I need to earn money,” I explain pointedly. “Oh. But…” Silence falls as he plays upstairs. “Doesn’t Daddy earn money for all of us?”
Reluctantly, I step away from my laptop and lean back. He’s got a valid point. “Dad works so much already—do you have to too? He says he takes care of us all.” I steeple my hands under my chin, choosing my words carefully.
“That’s true, sweetheart, but Mom enjoys working.” He grimaces. “But you could watch Fireman Sam with me?” “I love that too. But I enjoy both working and watching shows. Just like you love your ‘Joep and Koos’ book?” “Yes!” he shouts.
“So it’s okay if I work sometimes?” “Yeah!” he yells back. “You’re the best,” I cheer, giving a thumbs-up. He dashes back to the couch and Fireman Sam. He moves on instantly, but my inner critic pipes up: ‘You could just pause writing to watch with your son?’
No salary, no vacations, no sick days. As a working mom, I’m in overtime daily—always one step ahead. Tomorrow’s duties can’t wait. We’re expected to be superheroes: handling everything, even when exhaustion hits at night. In the bedroom? Yes—but not yours.
If we’re not born with it, motherhood hands it over post-birth. Suddenly, you’re never truly alone, shadowed by a harsh inner voice many moms recognize:
I’m too strict, not strict enough; too demanding, too lenient.
There she goes again. But this time, I tune her out. Watching my son glued to his favorite show for the thousandth time, I step back and see the bigger picture: He’s lucky to have a work-from-home mom who even wrote his beloved book 😉.
Oh well, I’ll probably end up in a picture frame on his wall someday!
