
Working Momma Blues
This morning started like any other Monday morning. Frantic. Rushed. Yelling “I’m turning off the TV if you don’t put your socks on! We need to go!”
This morning started like any other Monday morning. Frantic. Rushed. Yelling “I’m turning off the TV if you don’t put your socks on! We need to go!”
We’re good enough at guilting ourselves, for not being there, for not paying attention, for holding down a full-time job. We don’t need it from other moms.
Perfectionism is when what we expect, in our narrowed mind’s eye, comes crashing up against reality, and then there’s a mess.
This morning started like any other Monday morning. Frantic. Rushed. Yelling “I’m turning off the TV if you don’t put your socks on! We need to go!”
We’re good enough at guilting ourselves, for not being there, for not paying attention, for holding down a full-time job. We don’t need it from other moms.
Perfectionism is when what we expect, in our narrowed mind’s eye, comes crashing up against reality, and then there’s a mess.