This is for Working Parents — There is No Scenario Under Which We’re Not Judged

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Hi! So, Kristi here. And, if I ever wanted to start a podcast, today would be the day that I did it, because I’m so fired up about this, and I just want to talk about it.

So, let’s get into, shall we?

I do not have a podcast. However, I am going to pretend like I do today. By the way, if you’d rather listen to this than read it, here’s the link to my fake podcast.

Today is July 7th, at 4:34 p.m., and we are about 110 days into quarantining for COVID for the pandemic of 2020, and I just read the New York Times piece from Deb Perelman titled In the COVID-19 Economy, You Can Have a Kid or a Job. You Can’t Have Both.

It’s a master class: it’s a master class in writing, a master class in building a case, an airtight case unemotionally, and a master class in overcoming objections. It’s so good; it is so so so good. Deb Perelman, I know we don’t know each other, but I think we just became best friends.

This piece was sent to me, emailed to me, shared with me, and texted to me. I saved it on Facebook, LinkedIn, Medium, Instagram, all the platforms.

I had it bookmarked so many places that I just kept putting it off; I knew it was going to get me fired up, so if you allow, in real-time, I’m going to read through it with you, and just dive into the content.

OK, so like I said, today is July 7th, five days after it came out, and this is my second read-through. I read it once before I decided to do an impromptu podcast, so if you indulge me for a moment, let’s pretend like I have a podcast. This would be what I would be talking about. So again, the New York Times In the COVID-19 Economy, You Can Have a Kid or a Job. You Can’t Have Both. Our struggle is not an emotional concern. We are not burned out. We are being crushed by an economy that has bafflingly declared working parents inessential.

Everything with the black line in the left margin is quoted from the NY Times.

And Deb, I’ve never said the word bafflingly aloud before.

Last week, I received an email from my children’s principal, sharing some of the first details about plans to reopen New York City schools this fall. The message explained that the city’s Department of Education, following federal guidelines, will require each student to have 65 square feet of classroom space. Not everyone will be allowed in the building at once. The upshot is that my children will be able to physically attend school one out of every three weeks.

OK, it’s so triggering, right? Because everyone has a stake in the game. Now, I’m not addressing you if you’re not a parent or a working parent. This is for working parents.

I think the reason this issue is so triggering for so many people, me included, is that it’s one of the most in-your-face examples I can think of, certainly in my parenting time, when what I want for my children, what I think is best for my children and my family is at 100% direct odds, complete conflict, with what is best for our financial future.

It’s like we are on parallel paths, pursuing two things that really matter to us, obviously not to the same degree, but really matter to us, and they’re just on a collision course, right?

I actually want to talk a little bit more about that as we go, but the thing, the other thing that I want to say about this is, I’m on the committee. I’m on the committee for my three children’s charter school, and so I can see the emotional turmoil that each member of the committee is going through each week, as we discuss these issues.

Whether you’re pro mask or against masks, whether you’re pro in-person or pro staying at home, whether you are for a full reopening or a partial reopening or a hybrid reopening, or any of these things, every single person, I want to reassure you that every single person involved in the decision making, at least at my children’s small charter school, is utterly devoted to the children, utterly devoted to education, and genuinely wants the best.

I think it just fractures into thousands of tiny little pieces what best is, and the guidance has been dismal. So, with that…

At the same time, many adults — at least the lucky ones that have held onto their jobs — are supposed to be back at work as the economy reopens. What is confusing to me is that these two plans are moving forward apace without any consideration of the working parents who will be ground up in the gears when they collide.

Let me say the quiet part loud: In the Covid-19 economy, you’re allowed only a kid or a job.

Why isn’t anyone talking about this? Why are we not hearing a primal scream so deafening that no plodding policy can be implemented without addressing the people buried by it? Why am I, a food blogger best known for such hits as the All-Butter Really Flaky Pie Dough and The ‘I Want Chocolate Cake’ Cake, sounding the alarm on this? I think it’s because when you’re home schooling all day, and not performing the work you were hired to do until the wee hours of the morning, and do it on repeat for 106 days (not that anyone is counting), you might be a bit too fried to funnel your rage effectively.

I’m going to stop there again. I think it’s fantastic that she sounds the alarm because clearly she’s articulate and builds a beautiful case, but we are talking about this. Every single mom that I know is talking about this incessantly.

We’ve been talking about it since March, and it’s not just the source of conversation among moms as we pass each other with masks, while our kids desperately want to play together; it’s the conversation we have with our teachers and our educators and our administrators and our parents and our grandparents and our husbands and our children.

I don’t know about you, but we’ve been having some really tough heart-to-hearts in this family with our kids, and I’m just going to share some personal information with you guys — I don’t typically do this — but I think it warrants given the context right now. Our kids are in a language immersion school. They learn half the day in English, and they learn the other half the day in Mandarin. Clearly, my husband and I cannot substitute for Mandarin instruction. Neither one of us speaks Mandarin. That’s problematic.

Oddly enough, I’m not worried about that because I have 7-year-old twins who will be in 2nd grade, who weathered the remote learning homeschooling component of the last half of last year. They did so much better than I expected. That’s not to say there weren’t temper tantrums and screaming and fighting over devices and boycotts and missed deadlines and homework that we didn’t upload correctly and a million other problems. It just means that it was an impossible situation and we got through it and I know they’re going to be OK.

The one I’m worried about is my little one. And I know that sounds a bit contrary because it seems like the bigger kids are having bigger problems. Still, it’s just — it’s a moment, and I know it’s only a moment in time, and it’s not representative of anything real. However, it’s still heartbreaking nonetheless, and that’s this: My little one who went to a private preschool missed out on the closure experience at that school.

She didn’t get to do her final program or her end of the year field day or say goodbye to the teachers or any of those things; it just abruptly stopped. And then this year is supposed to be her orientation and initiation and kick-off into kindergarten. You’ve never met a kindergartner more ready for kindergarten. She puts on her uniform all the time; she packs her backpack up with her workbook. She has worksheets that she’s already completed, that she’s anticipating sharing with the teachers.

She has never been in the same school at the same time as big brother and big sister, and she has been counting this down from the moment she understood what school was. And for me, and her father, my husband, for us to share that that might not happen is heartbreaking. Sure, she’ll be fine; it’s also heartbreaking.

For months, I’ve been muttering about this — in group texts, in secret Facebook groups for moms…

- hey, I see you in there –

…in masked encounters when I bump into a parent friend on the street. We all ask one another why we aren’t making more noise. The consensus is that everyone agrees this is a catastrophe, but we are too bone-tired to raise our voices above a groan, let alone scream through a megaphone. Every single person confesses burnout, despair, feeling like they are losing their minds, knowing in their guts that this is untenable.

It’s deeper than that. I don’t want to be a doomsayer. I’m a writer, and I use Grammarly for my editing app. If you don’t use it, it’s incredible. I would love to send you an affiliate link; I don’t have one.

The thing about Grammarly is — My goal right now is to hit a million words. I’m dangerously close, I think I’m approaching 900,000, and I’ve been working on that goal for a while. One million words will feel like a significant milestone, right? — Grammarly, even Grammarly, sent me an email this week that said something to the effect: “So, we noticed tones of anxiety and despair (their words) in your writing.”

They didn’t come out and say, “are you OK?” — it’s an app — but I felt there was an implied, “are you OK?”

I’m an optimist. I’m an eternal optimist; I’m an idealist, I’m sunshine, I’m bright side, I’m a love and light spreader. And, 100 days in, it’s getting a little heavy. And I say that to bring a point to light, which is, it’s not just we’re getting crushed by this moment in time, where the economy is like “F — you guys, we don’t care if you work or not, we’re doing what we’re going to do.”

We’re also getting crushed by the fact that it brings up all those old wounds, which for some of us are fresher than others, about moms. Moms are not just fighting this during COVID. We’re fighting this every second since we became a mom.

It was like we were celebrated and rewarded for our contribution, and then one day we weren’t because we had a change of heart, a shift in perspective, and we didn’t want to work around the clock and give our full selves to our jobs. So it’s so much, and it’s so layered, and relevant, and resonates so good, Deb. As I said, I love you.

It should be obvious, but a non-negotiable precondition of “getting back to normal” is that families need a normal to return to as well. But as soon as you express this, the conversation quickly gets clouded with tangential and irrelevant arguments that would get you kicked off any school debate team.

“But we don’t even know if it’s safe to send kids back to school,” is absolutely correct, but it’s not the central issue here. The sadder flip side — the friend who told me that if their school reopens, her children are going back whether it’s safe or not because she cannot afford not to work — edges closer.

I challenge you to be a mom who hasn’t heard that from a friend, neighbor, acquaintance, or family member who said, “Even if it’s not safe, I have to send my kids back because we’re going to lose the house” or “My husband got laid-off, and I’m the primary breadwinner.” Whatever the case, their situation at home is so dire that they will potentially knowingly endanger their kids’ health to remain financially solvent. That’s problematic.

“Why do you want teachers to get sick?” isn’t my agenda either, but it’s hard to imagine that a system in which each child will spend two weeks out of every three being handed off among various caretakers only to reconvene in a classroom, infinitely increasing the number of potential virus-carrying interactions, protects a teacher more than a consistent pod of students week in and out with minimized external interactions.

In Colorado, where my charter school is, we do have what’s a consistent pod of students. They are calling them cohorts and limiting it to 25, which I do think is helpful. It’s not flawless, and I’ll share why. In my situation, my three kids each have a morning cohort, an AM cohort of 25, 25, and 25 students, and a PM cohort for Mandarin of 25, 25, and 25 students. While some of those students overlap, it’s possible, while not likely, that my children could be exposed to up to 50 kids a day.

They are planning to limit the common areas, so cohorts are the only people they’re exposed to, aside from the teachers. But the way I look at it is it becomes exponential quickly, right? We have 75 in the morning, 75 in the afternoon, that’s 150, even if it’s the same 150 kids every day.

It’s 150 kids! It’s 150 kids who have 150 families. It’s almost not quarantining at that point, right? What if the families are two, three, four, five people — we’re a five-person family — I don’t know it, it scales pretty quickly.

“You shouldn’t have had kids if you can’t take care of them,” is comically troll-like, but has come up so often, one might wonder if you’re supposed to educate your children at night. Or perhaps you should have been paying for some all-age day care backup that sat empty while kids were at school in case the school you were paying taxes to keep open and that requires, by law, that your child attends abruptly closed for the year.

Yeah, as I said, this is not for you if that’s your position. It’s not for you if you’re not a part of the solution.

“Why aren’t you enjoying the extra quality time with your kid?” lays bare what is really simmering below the surface — a retrograde view that maybe one parent (they mean the mom) shouldn’t be working, that doing so is bad for children, that it’s selfish to pursue financial gains (or solvency, as working parents will tell you). It is a sentiment so deeply woven into our cultural psyche that making the reasonable suggestion that one shouldn’t have to abandon a career or livelihood if offices reopen before schools, day cares and camps do is viewed as a chance to redeliberate this.

I’ve been all around this issue: I’ve been a working woman without children, I’ve been a working mom with three children under three while I was running a billion-dollar account and the primary breadwinner in our family, I’ve been a stay-at-home mom with a freelance husband, and now our situation is completely reversed in that I am a work-from-home mom who runs a company while my husband is the primary breadwinner and has a “corporate job.”

In every situation, I felt judged. I felt like the decision I was making was not the one that others thought was appropriate. Even though we flip-flopped all around that in seasons, where my husband and I evaluated at each season what was 100% obviously the best thing for our family, it was still was never good enough. And I think that’s what she’s talking about that when she says “the moms.” It’s always about the woman, what she should be doing or shouldn’t be doing in this case, which is working.

Now, full disclosure, I help women in corporate make that transition to the entrepreneurial world. I helped them set up a better future for their families, and I think I don’t want this to sound self-serving, and I know that it does. I just want to say this: this is the reason I do it because I don’t think of a corporate job anymore as — based on my experience and the experience of others like me — I don’t think of a corporate job as a safer, secure option, and I haven’t for a handful of years.

And in those years, I took a lot of pride in knowing that I could drop everything at any given time, still take care of my clients, still grow my business, but step away whenever my children needed a snuggle, another story, playtime, or for me to help out in the classroom. So in a lot of ways, I realized the privilege that I’ve had to weather this.

My husband’s job, knock on wood, is not currently in jeopardy. I know that that’s not the case for many of you who are listening. I also know that what an incredible gift it is to have a business that I feel can continue to grow and progress despite a pandemic, and also gives me that freedom — Not the income that I want. I took a $200,000/year pay cut. That was notable. — There is an enormous amount, a more than $200,000 value from knowing that we are weathering the storm as a family. I don’t have to find childcare or education that I don’t feel comfortable with, or that I think it is at odds with their safety, security, health, wellness, or well-being, or any of those things.

I share that because there’s no scenario in which we’re not judged, Mama. There is no scenario under which we’re not judged. I’m not totally unemotional about that, but I think part of it is that’s where we take back our power. It is systemic. It is problematic. This is putting a magnifying glass and a spotlight on something that we’ve been dealing with anyway. I think we just do what’s right for us, we do what’s right for our families, and I don’t know if I have an easy answer for this one.

I think for a lot of people — I’ll just say this, and then I’ll get back to it, and I’m sorry I’m on such a tangent — This is why I don’t have a podcast. There are so many women, men, mothers, and fathers who were pretty disenfranchised about their job anyway.

They were just not feeling too enchanted about what they had, or where it was headed, or what the rules were, or what odds were stacked against them, or all the things that were problematic about work in the US anyway. And the future of work was changing faster than anyone on LinkedIn wanted to admit because the people who are changing it are largely not on LinkedIn.

I mean they are, the execs are there, and the people who are responding to the changes are there, but the people who are driving the changes are the people who have jumped out to create better things. Those people are the freelancers, consultants, coaches, and entrepreneurs who are creating something wildly better. It was accelerating at the speed of light, and if anything, the pandemic 10X’d that.

It’s so much faster even now and everybody, everyone in education or academic environments and everyone who’s in corporate or business environments who is thinking “let’s just tough this out,” “let’s just get to the other side of COVID” is 100%, 1000%, a billion percent missing the point, which is COVID is just exposing all the things that were wrong, and life on the other side is going to be dramatically different, whether we want it to be or not, so to just tough it out is not going to do you any favors. You’ve got to start taking a much more proactive look at what’s happening.

OK, sorry about that tangent.

It is not, and you’re off the debate team, too.

Clearly, I’m off the debate team. I can’t even stay on a target when it’s on my screen.

I’ve heard from parents who have the luck of a grandparent who can swoop in, or the deep pockets for a full-time nanny or a private tutor for their child when schools are closed. That all sounds enviable, but it would be absurd to let policy be guided by people with cushioning.

Isn’t it always? Isn’t that the problem we are running into right now with politics in general? But I digress. Again.

If you have the privilege to opt-out of the workforce and wish to, enjoy it. But don’t wield it as a stick to poke others with because far more people are being forced to “opt-out” this year and will never professionally or financially recover.

I resent articles that view the struggle of working parents this year as an emotional concern. We are not burned out because life is hard this year. We are burned out because we are being rolled over by the wheels of an economy that has bafflingly declared working parents inessential.

I wish that were easier to say because it’s such a powerful statement, but “bafflingly” keeps throwing me off.

Part-time teachers, full-time parents

For context, let me tell you how the last few months have been for my family. The first few weeks of school and business closures were jaw-clenchingly stressful. I am self-employed and worked full-time from home already, so that part required no transition.

This is probably why I identified with her so closely.

But I needed to use this flexibility to ensure that my husband, who would normally have been at his office, didn’t miss a meeting, call or email, while I managed the remote-learning curriculums of our two children, one in pre-K, one in fifth grade. I compensated by working until about 2 a.m. each night.

I wanted to bring something to light about this because this is something that people have been talking about since March too, and it’s two parts: The first part is that moms doubled their workload immediately, because by and large men — This is again, a flaw in the system, right? If men have the power and are making more money, and it’s not always the case, but it’s often the case — then, they’re the ones who make more sense to it, it kind of reinforces it, right? It doubles down on the system because they’re the ones who have to keep their job to continue to be the primary breadwinner and keep the cycle going.

But because they’re doing that, it’s the women who take on the burden of all the stuff at home, like homeschooling and emotional labor. And the problem is that then it reinforces the idea that women’s work is not as important at the office because she’s the one who has to dial it back at the office. It reinforces it on so many levels. It’s quite staggering. Secondly, I don’t know why Deb has to ensure that her husband doesn’t miss a meeting, call, or email?

Three weeks later, our marital work-balance stress evaporated as my husband was put on furlough. He took over homeschooling and basically everything else as I became the sole breadwinner, trying to work as hard as I could, at every hour. Last week, he was fully laid off.

Despite our own financial strain, we’ve continued to pay the nanny who used to help shuttle the kids around while we worked, even though she hasn’t worked for us since March.

OK, now how many of you are doing this? Raise your hand. I know I can’t see you, you can’t see me, my hand is way in the air. We don’t have a nanny. We used to have a nanny. When I was the primary breadwinner, I traveled consistently for my job; my husband was a stay-at-home dad; we had a nanny who helped out part-time, so we had some semblance of balance, and he was freelancing, even as a full-time dad.

What I’m asking you to raise your hand for, and you can put them down for those of you who still have them up, for the rule followers. The thing about that, what I’ve noticed as a small business owner is that I am continuing to pay for the services that I don’t use, and I’m doing so, in part because I thought that, I naively believed that COVID was a temporary pause, and clearly, we have miles to go.

As a small business owner, I didn’t want to dial back, or hold back, when I know my monthly dues support so many other small business owners. So I’m still paying for my spin studio that I haven’t used since mid-March, I’m still paying for my massage membership, I’m still paying for my chiropractor, and all the health and wellness and well-being services that you inevitably subscribe to. Again, we can. I’m not going to get into all the reasons we can; I’m just going to accept that I know that many can’t even conceive of that, and I do understand and appreciate that.

Even if we asked for her help in homeschooling our children this fall, who would do so for her school-age children? When will my husband be able to look for work? How can he go back to work if there’s no one to watch the kids?

This is a widespread concern that I’m hearing from teachers and childcare givers: I’m not going to support you, or help you out because there’s no one to help me. That’s a huge thing here. And another one I’m hearing from a lot of teachers is that they are taking early retirement because from their point of view, they’ve endured a lot to get to the finish line and school was changing a lot, and this is something they just don’t want to take on.

They don’t want to risk themselves or their spouses, who may already be retired and at risk, or they are saying, “it’s getting too crazy and too complicated, and it’s not worth it.” That’s what I think you are going to see from many people in the workforce in general.

Not that they are going to opt-out of working entirely because they are smart and want to contribute, they are leaders and change-makers, but they are going to say, “Hey, I’m not going to doing this the way I used to do it.”

And I speak from a position of significant privilege.

You and me both, Deb.

We were, until recently, a two-income family with savings, paying for more than the minimum of childcare hours that we needed each day just to cover what-ifs, living in one of the most expensive cities on earth. We have laptops, tablets, Wi-Fi, and didn’t think twice before panic-ordering pencils, paper, markers and anything else we thought might help our children.

But my family, as a social and economic unit, cannot operate forever in the framework authorities envision for the fall.

I think the fallout is going to be massive. It’s not just my family, Deb’s family, and the families I know, it’s untenable and unsustainable en masse.

There are so many ways that the situation we’ve been thrust into, in which businesses are planning to reopen without any conversation about the repercussions on families with school-age children, is even more untenable for others.

Under the best of circumstances, the impact on children will still be significant. Students will lose most of a year of learning as parents — their new untrained teachers — cannot supervise in any meaningful way while Zooming into the office. At best, the kids will be crabby and stir-crazy as they don’t get enough physical activity because they’re now tethered to their parents’ work spaces all day, running around the living room in lieu of fresh air. Without social interactions with other children, they constantly seek parental attention in bad ways, further straining the mood at home. And these are ideal scenarios.

But what about kids who cannot learn remotely? What about kids who need services that are tied to schools? Or those who are at higher risk for complications if they get the virus and might not be able to go back even one week out of the three?

When learning plans for children with special needs could not be followed appropriately this year, academic gains for many students were quickly wiped out. Remote learning has already widened racial and socioeconomic achievement gaps because of disparities in access to technology tutors.

I just want to reiterate that this idea that any one decision has a ripple effect. The idea that it doesn’t matter is absurd. It’s been on display in every single component of our response to this pandemic.

And thinking of firsts, I’m not only considering starting a podcast, I’m also considering Buddhism. My brother is a Buddhist, and their way, approach, and response to the pandemic has been so comforting. And I just think, right now, what we are seeing is that it all matters, it’s all interrelated, it’s all connected.

When we don’t fix these systemic problems, they bleed over into the other ones. Everything escalates so much more quickly, particularly when things are not ideal. The racial and socioeconomic issue is being poked from so many different directions right now. To say it’s problematic is way underplaying it.

As parents are crushed by the COVID economy, so are the children who need the most support. It’s no wonder the American Academy of Pediatrics released a statement this weekend urging that students be physically present in school as much as possible this fall.

You know I talked about how quickly it escalates for our family and shared some personal information about it. The second thing I would share is that my youngest was born with a heart condition — it’s mostly since been resolved — but between that and my husband’s cancer battle, which I’ve been more public about, we are at higher risk. Frankly, I just don’t have the stomach to send them back to an environment that can’t guarantee me that we aren’t going to get it.

Logically, I know that it’s an absurd request, given that I wouldn’t make the same request of other things, but I just can’t. I can’t. As a mother, sometimes our decisions are not wholly unemotional.

The long-term losses for professional adults will be incalculable, too, and will disproportionately affect mothers.

Don’t they always? Don’t they always? For all the reasons I’ve already said.

Working mothers all over the country feel that they’re being pushed out of the labor force or into part-time jobs as their responsibilities at home have increased tenfold.

Even those who found a short-term solution because they had the luxury to hit the pause button on their projects and careers this spring to manage the effects of the pandemic — predicated on the assumption that the fall would bring a return to school and child care — may now have no choice but to leave the workforce.

I don’t think I need to explain why that will set everything in motion again and create a whole new wave of ripple.

A friend just applied for a job and tells me she cannot even imagine how she would be able to take it if her children aren’t truly back in school. There’s an idea that people can walk away from careers and just pick them up where they left off, even though we know that women who drop out of the work force to take care of children often have trouble getting back in.

And lest you think it’s everyone vs. teachers, I cannot imagine a group this situation is less fair to. Teachers are supposed to teach in the classroom full-time but simultaneously manage remote learning?

I’m on the committee with a lot of teachers. I hear their fear and frustration, concern and anxiety about taking care — all they want to do is take care of our little ones — and the idea that they won’t be able to do that to their full capacity is hard and heartbreaking for them. I see it on their faces, the worry that they won’t be able to take care of them in the classroom given the new guidelines and restrictions and take care of those who need them at home.

Their comfort levels with technology are all over the place, and their comfort levels with COVID are all over the place, and it’s impossible what they are being asked to do.

Even in non-pandemic times, teachers would tell you that they already work unpaid overtime on nights and weekends, just planning and grading. Where, exactly, will the extra hours come from? For teachers with their own school-age children, the situation isn’t just untenable, it’s impossible.

The wealthy win. Again.

I have so much to say about that, and I feel like I can’t even get into it because it’s going to be another hour situation. Just read that sentence again and let your mind wander for a minute and feel the rage for a minute and feel the infuriation for a minute and…let it go.

Let it go for your wellness. Let’s address the kids for now, and at some point, hopefully, sooner rather than later, we’ll discuss that too.

Without a doubt, reopening schools is a colossal undertaking. There are no easy solutions to finding enough space for students to socially distance, ensuring teachers and staff are protected, adding more sinks and cleaning staff, and implementing widespread temperature checks, testing and contact tracing.

But after nearly four months since the lockdowns began — four months of working all hours, at remarkable stress levels, while our children have gone without playdates and playgrounds and all of the other stimuli that help them thrive — most parents have been shocked to find that state governments don’t have any creative or even plausible solutions.

For parents who cannot simply sort it out, our national response feels more like a dystopian novel where only the wealthy get to limit their exposure and survive the pandemic unscathed. Allowing workplaces to reopen while schools, camps and day cares remain closed tells a generation…

A generation ladies and gentlemen, a generation! And I would argue two generations because the kids are getting the message too. Whether you are telling them or not, whether you think they are conscious or not, they are 100% picking it up.

…of working parents that it’s fine if they lose their jobs, insurance and livelihoods in the process. It’s outrageous, and I fear if we don’t make the loudest amount of noise possible over this, we will be erased from the economy.

Deb Perelman, I love you for writing this. Honestly, I’m practically on the verge of tears, so I’m just going to stop right here. If I had a podcast, boy oh boy, would this go on it. Thanks for listening. Thanks for reading. Love you. Bye.

Written by

Life coach for women. Writer for 29 publications. Happiness, success, productivity, balance, leadership, inspiration. Follow me on Instagram @coachformoms.

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