Damn You, Working Mom Guilt.


Before I had a kid, most moms I knew talked regularly about "mom guilt". Especially "working mom guilt".

I remember thinking to myself something along the lines of :

"That will never happen to me. I know that being a working mom will be such a good example for my kid that I will never be bothered by missed music classes and bedtime routines done via FaceTime.  You women are soooooo overdramatic. Oh, and having something that gets you away from whining kids, gives you a life of your own AND pays? Sounds like a win-win-win. So, harumph." At this point, in my head, I turned on a finely pointed heel, iPhone in hand, and walked away with a grandiose sense of purpose. 

Then (here come the words I have written all too often since I started documenting my life as a mom), I had a kid.

And, the guilt is unavoidable.

When I am in my office at home opening up boxes of makeup and testing lipstick color payoff on my forearms and I hear Alexa downstairs crying out for mommy? When, while in LA eating room service ensconced in a fluffy robe, I get a call telling me that that she woke up throughout the night screaming for me?  

Oh- wait- did I say unavoidable? I meant borderline unbearable.

Part of me thinks it is because the actual "work" I do, by nature, can seem frivolous, if I let myself think about it too hard. Getting my hair done for a shoot, playing with makeup, testing out face masks, scouring look books to pull pieces for fashion segments, keeping up appearances on Twitter and Instagram, writing self-indulgent (but very therapeutic, I must add) blog posts... At a glance, it seems like the mature thing to do would be to step away from the skin serums and spend quality time teaching life lessons to my toddler. 

The reason for this seemingly random rant? Currently I am in LA filming a segment for The Talk on CBS.  When I saw the storm warnings in New York, I changed my return flight. So, instead of being home when Alexa wakes up tomorrow, I won't see her until Friday. Here I sit, obsessively checking my original flight, praying to for a flashing "cancelled" icon appear so I can believe I made a smart choice.

But so far, the flight isn't so much as delayed.

And I am quite enjoying catching up on work in my peacefully quiet and beautifully appointed room at The London. 

Which makes that whole guilt thing that much worse. 

(Full disclosure- I am very fortunate that being a working mom is a choice for me right now, and I recognize that. Yes, the money I make does contribute to the expenses of  the lifestyle we are lucky to enjoy at this moment. However, if I decided to shut it down tomorrow, we would survive. I am not sure if it is politically correct to admit this- but I feel like omitting it would be ignorant and disrespectful to the working moms out there who can't let this inner monologue play out due to circumstance. Just wanted to make sure to acknowledge that.)