Why don't say we working Dad?

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When my kids were in grade school, the father of my three children and I were invited to a family barbeque.

You know the type: the kids run off to play amongst themselves while the parents sit on the sidelines chit-chatting, mostly about their kids.

The moms and the dads usually gather in separate circles for some reason. I was sitting with some of the other moms, but I was having a hard time feeling like I belonged.

I wanted to—these were, after all, the parents of my children's best friends. Why did I feel like such an outsider?

And then it hit me: none of these other mothers worked. Not one.

I was the "working mom."

I was the one who was late to pick my kids up from school because I'd been working with a client. I was the one who bought Costco guacamole because I didn't have time to make my own from scratch.

Why don't we ever call dads "working fathers"?

Mothers are in a brutal double bind. When we're pregnant, everyone wants to celebrate us.

Being pregnant is like having the whole world throw you a party—it feels like you've entered a rare and extraordinary club—the club of motherhood.

Sure, some parts of pregnancy suck (the physical changes, fatigue, and more), but from a "you matter in this world" perspective, being pregnant is top tier. Very quickly, you learn,?*I'm special, I am worthy, and I am important because I am going to be a mother.*

Working mothers carry this purpose and joy to work, especially the first time they are pregnant.

There's a fantastic moment for working mothers when they realize they can have it all—the family they crave and the job that pays.

But often this bliss becomes a bummer when the realities of working while parenting sink in. I will never forget moments like my boss telling me to hide my child that I was traveling with so clients didn't see her. Or the endless repeat of the question, "who watches your children when you're gone." Or the mind-numbing mountain of hidden labor I carried because I thought it was all my job to do as MOTHER.

Flash forward to that barbecue; I'm confessing—why did it feel like a confession?—the fact that I go to work every day, and I can see the dismay on their faces.?*Oh, how hard. These are such important ages--do you have to work so much? Wouldn't it be better if you could be with them?*

Despite the cultural myth that women have a choice about whether or not they work, most of the women I know who work full-time throughout their pregnancy and the early childhood phase do so because they have to, not because they want to. Moms everywhere are primary breadwinners, earning money to afford food, water, and security for their children.

Men do this too, and are revered for it—"he works hard to support his family."

But the very minute a new mother goes to work it is assumed that this is her choice alone, not assumed economics of taking care of her beloveds.

For all the many years my children lived in my home, in the wee hours of their sleep, I'd whisper to them this painful apology: "I'm sorry I am not doing this better."

I cannot count the number of times I've felt like a crap mother. My guilt has gotten in my way as my kids have grown up, as I've battled not to succumb to private feelings of sadness and shame that I messed up my most important job, my parenting.

Do working fathers whisper for forgiveness to their children?

I've been thinking about this double-bind for decades. So many of us women carry deep shame, feeling that we're inadequate moms simply because we work. Even Judge Jackson, our most recent Supreme Court Appointee revealed publicly her fear that she didn't always do it right.

I was comforted by her sharing.

Despite our contributions to society (Justice Jackson!!!), being a perfect mother is the thing that is often hold up as a barometer, both by society and in our hearts. leaving a residue of shame that we are still not enough.

That shame is founded on myths: the myth of the "ideal" mother, the myth of gender economics, and the myth that fathers can't parent capably and well.

Last week I was honored to go to an incredible event called The Most, where I joined over 100 other women entrepreneurs to explore building our businesses, partnerships, and unapologetic ways of building wealth.

Never in my career have I been surrounded by so many other people who felt the same tension I've carried for so long. It was phenomenal to be in that room, which also held a majority of BIPOC women, notably.

I was by far one of the oldest women there at nearly 60. I was humbled and amazed by the courage and ferocity of these women modeling and testing what I have always believed and practiced:?**doing good work, making money, and mothering can all be done simultaneously**.

It is not only possible but critical to the success of our economies and communities.

I mean, what would happen if every working parent suddenly stopped working?

I've been writing like crazy since that event, trying to share what I've learned raising three kids and running my own successful business for the past 30 years.

As I write, I've found myself crying as I feel the immense pressure and tension I've carried. At the same time, I celebrate and privately cheer in pride at what my family and my business have done.

All of which is to say: it turns out I have a lot to say about being a working mother. I've been trying to say it all, which is futile in this newsletter format.

Today, I'm happy to commit to sharing my story as a working mom.

I'll continue writing and sharing what I've learned throughout the year. Mei and I will be talking about it in our new podcast coming out soon.

(Keep your ears peeled for that, by the way).

I'll leave you with this: I know, deep in my bones, there are innumerable ways we can heal from and drop residual guilt and shame about our working and mothering efforts. And, there's a lot that employers and bosses can do to make work easier for all parents and their families.

When we can bring ourselves fully to work, we can all bring our best—and we can do so while also raising healthy, beloved humans.

Working and parenting can go together and must.

I'm eager to learn from your story. So reply with the word "YES" if you want to hear more from me about this topic. If there's something you've struggled with as a working parent, let me know.

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P.S. This picture shows the feet of me and my kids a few years ago. They are now all adults.?In my wildest dreams, they will raise children if they want, support them, and work hard at the things they believe in for this great and complex world. They can do both.