Posted by Natasha Red on February 28, 2025
If guilt-carrying were an Olympic sport, working moms would sweep the podium every time. We’ve mastered the art of feeling bad about literally everything, often simultaneously. After a decade of competing at the highest levels of the Guilt Games, I’ve decided to retire undefeated—because frankly, I’m exhausted, and this particular competition has zero actual winners.
My Medal-Winning Guilt Routines
Over the years, I’ve perfected several guilt routines that would score perfect 10s from even the harshest judges:
The Work/Family Balance Beam
This challenging event involves feeling guilty about work while at home AND feeling guilty about home while at work. I’ve executed this flawlessly for years—answering emails during Jake’s soccer games while also worrying about missing Emma’s presentation during an important client meeting. The mental gymnastics required are extraordinary.
The School Involvement Floor Exercise
I’ve perfected the routine of volunteering for exactly one classroom activity per child per year, then spending the rest of the year feeling inadequate compared to the Pinterest-perfect room moms who somehow attend every event. The dismount involves writing apologetic emails about missing the Valentine’s Day party while attaching an Amazon gift card for supplies.
The Meal Preparation Vault
My signature move involves meticulously meal planning on Sunday, then abandoning the plan by Wednesday and serving chicken nuggets while silently calculating the nutritional deficiencies my children are developing. The degree of difficulty increases when scrolling past Instagram photos of bento box lunches while ordering pizza.
The Synchronized Bedtime Swim
This event tests endurance as you attempt to create meaningful, screen-free bedtime routines for multiple children after working a full day. Points are deducted every time you fall asleep before finishing the bedtime story or check your phone during precious “quality time.”
The Screen Time Marathon
The ultimate endurance event where you try to enforce the American Academy of Pediatrics’ screen time guidelines while simultaneously using screens as a necessary survival tool. Gold medal performances include feeling bad about iPad time while using that time to finish work assignments that will keep a roof over their heads.
The Ruthless Judges in My Head
What makes the Guilt Olympics so brutal is the panel of judges living in my mind:
Social Media Supermoms
These judges only show carefully curated highlight reels but somehow convince me they’re documenting reality. They post homemade organic baby food while I’m not entirely sure what vegetable my kids last consumed.
Well-Meaning Relatives
These judges ask innocent questions like, “Don’t you miss your kids during the day?” or “Wouldn’t it be nice if you could be home for them after school?” Their commentary is particularly cutting during the holiday season.
My Childhood Memories
This judge reminds me that my mom was home every day after school with freshly baked cookies, conveniently forgetting that we also had no college fund and financial stress was a constant companion.
Workplace Expectations
This judge deducts points whenever family obligations interfere with professional opportunities, with bonus deductions if male colleagues without primary caregiving responsibilities advance faster.
Expert Child Development Research
This particularly harsh judge presents studies about the importance of parental presence, attachment, nutrition, limited screen time, reading, outdoor play, and socialization—all of which require more hours than actually exist in a day.
My Own Ridiculous Standards
The head judge—the one I can never seem to please—is me. I’ve set impossible standards based on an amalgamation of my mother’s best qualities, Instagram perfection, workplace excellence, and the ludicrous notion that I should be good at everything simultaneously.
Why I’m Retiring from the Guilt Games
Last Tuesday was the breaking point. I was late to a meeting because Lily had a meltdown about her socks. Then I missed a call from Jake’s teacher because I was in said meeting. I forgot about Emma’s science project materials until 9 PM. And when I finally collapsed into bed, I realized I hadn’t had a single meaningful conversation with Mark all day.
As I lay there cataloging my failures, a thought suddenly hit me: What if I just… stopped? What if I retired from competitive guilt-carrying and redirected that energy toward something actually productive?
So I made a decision. I’m hanging up my guilt medals and stepping off the podium. Here’s why:
Guilt Doesn’t Make Me a Better Mother
After extensive field research (a.k.a. a decade of parenting), I’ve concluded that feeling guilty doesn’t improve my parenting in any measurable way. It doesn’t make my kids healthier, happier, or more secure. It just makes me distracted and irritable, which definitely makes me a worse mother.
My Kids Are Actually Thriving
When I step back from the guilt fog, I see three happy, resilient, kind human beings who are developing important life skills. Emma’s independence, Jake’s creativity, and Lily’s confidence didn’t happen despite my working motherhood—in many ways, they happened because of it.
The Research Is More Nuanced Than the Headlines
After diving deeper into child development research (beyond the panic-inducing headlines), I’ve learned that quality of interaction matters more than quantity. My children don’t need a mother who is physically present but mentally absent and resentful. They need one who is engaged and happy during the time we have together.
Working Fulfills Me, and That Matters Too
I’m a better mother because I work. My career gives me purpose, adult interaction, intellectual stimulation, and economic security. These aren’t selfish indulgences—they’re legitimate human needs. Meeting them allows me to be more present when I am with my children.
Perfect Parenting Is a Dangerous Myth
Children don’t need perfect parents; they need authentic, loving humans who model resilience, self-compassion, and realistic expectations. By chasing some impossible standard of maternal perfection, I’m actually teaching my kids harmful lessons about self-worth.
My Retirement Plan
Instead of competing in the Guilt Olympics, here’s what I’m doing instead:
Embracing “Good Enough” Parenting
Research by psychologist D.W. Winnicott introduced the concept of the “good enough mother”—one who adapts to her baby’s needs appropriately, not perfectly. Children actually benefit from parents who gradually let them experience manageable disappointments. Perfect parenting, it turns out, isn’t just impossible—it’s not even desirable.
Setting Realistic Standards
My new benchmark is simple: Are my kids safe, loved, and having their basic needs met? Am I teaching them values that matter to our family? Am I showing up emotionally when it counts most? If yes, we’re doing fine.
Celebrating My Unique Contribution
Instead of comparing myself to other mothers, I’m focusing on the unique gifts I bring. My children are learning about work ethic, financial independence, pursuing passions, and balancing multiple roles—all valuable life lessons.
Modeling Self-Compassion
I’m practicing treating myself with the same kindness I would offer a friend in my situation. When I hear that guilt voice creeping in, I ask myself: “Would I judge another mother this harshly? What would I say to support her?”
Being Honest with My Kids
I’ve started having age-appropriate conversations with my children about work, choices, and balance. Emma recently told me she’s proud of my job and wants to work “like Mommy” someday. That moment was worth more than all the class parties I’ve missed.
Finding My Village
I’m connecting with other parents who share similar values and challenges, rather than those who make me feel inadequate. My new mom friends send texts like “Forgot it was pajama day, sent kid in regular clothes, we’re both crying” instead of photos of elaborate homemade valentines.
The Real Gold Medal Moments
Since retiring from the Guilt Olympics, I’ve started noticing the real victories—the ones that don’t come with medals but matter infinitely more:
- When Jake said, “Mom, I like that you have important work to do, just like me with my school”
- When Emma told her career day class she wants to be a “boss like my mom”
- When Lily fell and immediately called for me, even though three other adults were closer
- When I heard Emma explaining to her friend, “My mom can’t come to every school thing because she has a big job, but she always comes to the important ones”
- When Mark said, “The kids see how hard you work for them, and it’s making them into better people”
These moments remind me that my children are experiencing the reality of my love, not the perfection of my presence.
A New Definition of Winning
So I’m turning in my Guilt Olympics uniform and redefining what victory looks like for our family. It’s not perfect attendance at school functions or home-cooked meals every night. It’s raising children who feel deeply loved while watching their mother pursue a full, meaningful life.
Some days I still fail spectacularly. Just yesterday I snapped at Jake for moving too slowly while simultaneously checking work emails and burning toast. But instead of adding that moment to my guilt scoreboard, I apologized, explained I was feeling rushed, and moved on.
The greatest victory isn’t being a perfect mother—it’s being a real one. A mother who shows up imperfectly but authentically. Who models resilience, self-forgiveness, and the pursuit of a meaningful life. Who loves fiercely, even on the days when dinner comes from a drive-thru window.
That’s the medal worth winning, and one I can finally feel proud to wear.
What guilt routines are you ready to retire from? Share in the comments—let’s start our own retirement community!
