Posted by Natasha Red on March 10, 2025
Everyone’s always asking what my schedule looks like as a working mom with three kids. I think they’re expecting some Pinterest-worthy routine with color-coded charts and perfectly timed transitions. Here’s yesterday’s reality check instead—an actual Tuesday in the Red household, unfiltered and unapologetic.
5:37 AM
Not 5:30. Not 5:45. Exactly 5:37 when my body decides sleep is optional. I don’t set an alarm anymore because my internal mom clock is permanently broken. I scroll through emails in the dark while Mark snores beside me, blissfully unaware that I’m mentally composing responses to my boss about yesterday’s marketing proposal.
6:15 AM
Shower. Actually wash my hair because it’s reached that “is it greasy or just second-day texture?” phase that can’t be publicly displayed. Mental note to order more dry shampoo.
6:43 AM
Start coffee. Pack lunches while coffee brews. Realize we’re out of the granola bars that Jake will exclusively eat. Panic slightly. Find a forgotten box in the back of the pantry. Crisis averted. Remember I’m supposed to bring snacks for Emma’s basketball practice later. Crisis reinstated.
7:00 AM
Wake the kids. Emma gets up with minimal drama. Jake requires three visits and the threat of removing his tablet privileges. Lily is already awake and has somehow covered herself in marker despite the fact that all markers are supposedly in a locked cabinet.
7:25 AM
Breakfast chaos. I make eggs that only Mark eats. Emma wants yogurt. Jake wants cereal but not THAT cereal. Lily wants whatever Jake has but then doesn’t actually eat it. I drink my coffee standing up while making sure everyone has what they need for the day. Permission slip? Signed. Library book? Found under the couch. Favorite water bottle? Located in the yard for reasons no one can explain.
8:02 AM
Everyone needs to be in the car NOW. Emma can’t find her other shoe. Jake suddenly remembers he has a diorama due today that he “told me about weeks ago” (he absolutely did not). Lily is now refusing to wear pants. Mark kisses me goodbye and leaves for his office with a sympathetic glance that says both “good luck” and “better you than me.”
8:17 AM
Drop-off at two different schools. Emma’s middle school first, where she practically jumps out of the moving vehicle because being seen with your mother is apparently a capital offense in 7th grade. Then to the elementary school where Jake walks in confidently with a diorama made of a cereal box, three markers, and determination. I count this as a parenting win.
8:40 AM
Preschool drop-off for Lily. She cries. I feel guilty. The teacher assures me she stops crying exactly 2.5 seconds after I leave. I choose to believe this is true.
9:00 AM
Finally at my desk in the home office. I have 30 minutes before my first meeting, which means I have 30 minutes to complete approximately 3 hours of work.
9:30 AM – 12:00 PM
Back-to-back Zoom meetings where I mute myself to yell at the dog who’s barking at the delivery person, unmute to give marketing insights, mute to curse at the washing machine that’s making that noise again, unmute to ask thoughtful questions about Q2 projections. No one suspects I’m not wearing proper pants.
12:15 PM
Lunch break. I make a real meal for myself like an adult: half an avocado toast and the crust from Lily’s sandwich that I saved from this morning because food waste is bad but mostly because I’m starving and it was already there.
1:00 PM – 2:30 PM
Deep work time. I actually get things done! Update the content calendar, write copy for the new campaign, and provide feedback on design mockups. I’m a productive professional who occasionally remembers to unmute before speaking.
2:45 PM
The school nurse calls. Jake has a stomachache. Is it a real stomachache or a “math test today” stomachache? I gamble and tell her to give him some water and see how he feels in 30 minutes. Mark is in meetings all afternoon, so if Jake needs pickup, it’s on me to rearrange my day.
3:15 PM
No follow-up call from the nurse. Either Jake is fine or he’s plotting his revenge on me for not rescuing him. I’ll find out at pickup.
3:30 PM
Final meeting of the day runs long. I’m nodding thoughtfully at my boss’s comments while simultaneously texting our babysitter to see if she can grab the kids because I’m going to be late.
4:10 PM
School pickup chaos, round two. Lily is delighted to see me. Jake informs me his stomachache was “definitely real” but mysteriously disappeared around recess. Emma slides into the car and immediately asks if we can stop for boba, which wasn’t part of today’s plan but suddenly feels like a battle not worth fighting.
4:45 PM
Home again with all children and boba tea. Emma has homework and an attitude. Jake needs help with spelling words. Lily wants me to watch her twirl. My laptop pings with slack messages I should probably address.
5:30 PM
Remember I need to make dinner. Stare blankly into the fridge even though I meal planned on Sunday. Consider ordering pizza but remember we did that yesterday. Pull out chicken and vegetables with renewed determination. Start cooking while refereeing a fight about whose turn it is on the tablet.
6:15 PM
Mark arrives home to chaos. Dinner is mostly edible. Jake picks out all the vegetables. Emma texts under the table despite the no-phones rule. Lily spills milk twice. We discuss our days in between reminding people about basic table manners that they somehow forget between every meal.
7:00 PM
Bath time for Lily, which means the bathroom will need to be classified as a disaster zone afterward. Mark handles this while I help Emma with her science project and quiz Jake on his spelling words.
8:00 PM
Bedtime routine begins. Teeth are brushed with varying degrees of thoroughness. Books are read. Water is fetched. Additional water is denied. Monsters are checked for. Promises are made about tomorrow’s activities that I will likely regret.
8:45 PM
Lily is finally asleep. Jake is reading in bed. Emma has negotiated an extra 30 minutes because of a “really important” social studies assignment that I’m 90% sure involves TikTok.
9:15 PM
All children contained in their rooms, if not asleep. Mark and I collapse on the couch and stare at each other. We should discuss finances or vacation plans or his mother’s upcoming visit. Instead, we scroll through Netflix for 20 minutes before settling on a show we’re both too tired to follow.
10:30 PM
Remember I didn’t switch the laundry to the dryer. Do that now. Pack tomorrow’s lunches. Set up the coffee maker. Remember I was supposed to order more printer ink. Add it to the never-ending list.
11:00 PM
Fall into bed. Check my calendar for tomorrow. Three meetings, one doctor appointment for Jake, and Emma needs her basketball uniform washed. Set alarm for 5:30 AM, knowing full well I’ll wake up at 5:37 AM regardless.
11:45 PM
Almost asleep when Lily appears at the bedside, wanting water/hugs/to discuss her future career as a unicorn. Mark sleeps through this somehow. I take her back to bed, lie down with her for “just five minutes” and wake up there at 1 AM with a crick in my neck.
1:05 AM
Stumble back to my own bed. Fall asleep making a mental list of all the things I didn’t get done today that will be added to tomorrow’s impossible list.
And that’s a typical Tuesday. Glamorous, right? No life-changing productivity hacks, no secrets to having it all—just the messy reality of trying to be everywhere and everything for everyone while occasionally remembering to brush my own teeth.
So if your day looked anything like mine, know you’re not alone. We’re all just making it up as we go, surviving on coffee and those tiny moments when everyone is briefly happy at the same time.
What does your typical day look like? Drop a comment below—misery loves company, especially when it comes with a sense of humor.
Natasha Red is perpetually tired but somehow still functioning. She writes about the chaos of working motherhood while actively living it. Follow her for unfiltered reality and the occasional useful tip she stumbled upon by accident.
