A Letter to Myself (and Every Working Mom)

A Letter to Myself (and Every Working Mom)

Now that we're in 2026, I've been reflecting on everything last year threw at me. Filming a show, running two businesses, trying to keep up with competitive baseball and hockey schedules, being a partner, being a friend, being... me. I keep thinking about all the things I learned and all the things I'm still figuring out.

So this is partly a letter to myself. Partly a letter to you, if you're also drowning in guilt while trying to build something beautiful.

Because if I'm being honest, 2025 taught me that the guilt doesn't just go away. But maybe, just maybe... I can change how I carry it going forward.

The guilt that's always there

There's this guilt that lives in your chest when you're a working mom. That constant working mom guilt that never seems to fully go away. 

It shows up when you're answering emails while tucking your kids in.

When the kids are playing and you're annoyed because your brain is stuck in work mode, and then you immediately feel terrible for even thinking "I just need 10 minutes."

When you're physically home but mentally running through your to-do list. Payroll, client meetings, baseball schedules, hockey practice times, what's for dinner, did I respond to that email?

And here's the worst part: even when you're doing everything right, it still feels like you're failing at something.

What 2025 taught me

Last year, I felt pulled in every direction. All. The. Time.

I'm filming an HGTV show. Opening Blended Living. Running an interior design firm. My boys are in competitive baseball and hockey (and my youngest is still figuring out his thing, but trust me, we're busy). I've been with my partner for 16 years. And somewhere in all of that, I'm supposed to find time for friends. For myself. For... literally anything that isn't on a calendar.

The guilt was constant.

Guilty for working late.
Guilty for missing a game.
Guilty for needing quiet.
Guilty for wanting more.

Like I wasn't allowed to want a big life AND be a good mom at the same time.

But here's what I learned: nobody talks about the invisible load.

Working moms aren't just working. We're living two full-time lives in one body. We're building businesses, managing homes, raising kids, keeping everyone's schedules straight, holding emotional space for literally everyone, and remembering every single thing that needs to happen.

Even when we sit down, we're not resting. Our brains are still running.

So when you feel exhausted? You're not weak. You're just doing too much because you love everyone so frigging much.

What I'm accepting in 2026

This is what I'm still learning, and what I'm choosing to accept going into this new year:

Guilt isn't proof I'm failing. It's proof I care.

Sometimes we confuse guilt with intuition. But honestly? A lot of times it's just the weight of expectations that were never ours to carry.

Because when I really think about it... my kids don't need perfection.

They need love. Safety. Consistency. A mom who keeps showing up even when she's tired.

And they need to see what it looks like to build something. To work for a dream. To have discipline. To get back up (every single time). 

That's not selfish. That's showing them what's possible.

What I want to remember (and what they'll actually remember)

My boys aren't going to remember every time I had to take a work call.

They're going to remember the tone in my voice. The warmth at home. The times I really looked them in the eyes.

They're going to remember that their mom built something. That she didn't quit. That she took risks and kept going.

And honestly? That's the story I want them to have.

Not "my mom was always around."

But "my mom created a life and she worked her butt off."

What I'm changing

Being a working mom isn't the issue. The issue is we were taught sacrifice, not balance.

We were taught that a "good mom" runs herself into the ground, keeps everyone happy, stays quiet about her dreams, and never asks for help.

That version of motherhood burns women out. It drains us. And it makes us resent the life we prayed for.

I don't want that. Not in 2026. Not ever.

I want to love my kids without losing myself completely.

What I'm learning (and what I hope you hear too)

Some days I'll feel like I nailed it. Other days I'll feel like a mess. Both are completely normal.

Here's what I'm carrying into 2026:

I'm not a bad mom because I work.
I'm not selfish for wanting a big life.
I'm not failing because I need alone time.
I'm not "choosing work over them"... I'm building something FOR them.

My kids don't need me available 24/7. They need me healthy. Joyful. Whole.

To myself and to you

If you're reading this and you've been carrying that heavy guilt...

Take a breath.

You're doing better than you think. You're not behind. You're not ruining them. You're not missing everything.

You're a mom who loves her kids and has a purpose. And that combination is powerful.

We can raise kids and build businesses.
We can love our families and want more.
We can be present and still be ambitious.

So here's to this year. To releasing the guilt... little by little. To giving ourselves grace. To showing up imperfectly and still being enough.

Because motherhood was never meant to be a cage.

It's a legacy.
And I am so frigging grateful…