Let me just say it straight: I love my family. I love my kids, my partner, our animals, and the life we’ve built together. I’d go to the ends of the Earth for them—and sometimes it feels like I already have, just trying to get everyone out the door with snacks, pants, and sanity intact.
But some days… I just don’t want to come home and be everything for everyone.

Some days, after a full day of work, meetings, deadlines, pretending to care about office politics, and trying to squeeze in a protein-packed lunch that wasn’t just my kid’s leftover crusts—I don’t want to walk through the front door and jump into caretaker mode. I don’t want to cook dinner, supervise homework, break up sibling arguments, or get 10,000 steps in while chasing the dog who stole someone’s snack (again).
Some days, I don’t even want to “better” myself. I don’t want to meal prep. I don’t want to squeeze in a workout, hit my macros, or convince myself that a green smoothie is just as satisfying as a grilled cheese.

Some days, all I want is to come home, collapse on the couch, and doom scroll on my phone in peace. I want to stare blankly at memes, watch videos of other people organizing their pantries (spoiler: I won’t do mine), and read articles about productivity while doing absolutely nothing productive. And if I happen to be holding a block of cheddar and not sharing it? So be it.
And you know what? That doesn’t mean I love my family—or my health—any less.
It just means I’m human.

Of course, there’s always that little guilt goblin in the back of my mind whispering, “You should be engaging more. You should be cooking something with quinoa. You should be hitting the gym. You should be present and glowing and grateful and green-juicing and thriving!”

Yeah, yeah. I hear it. I feel it. And some days, I ignore it.
Because here’s the truth: taking care of me is also part of taking care of them. And sometimes, that version of self-care looks like a 6 a.m. workout and a salad. Other times, it looks like pajama pants, Instagram reels, and a questionable amount of brie.
So, to every other mom out there who’s trying to juggle work, family, health goals, and her own sanity—you’re not alone.

You’re not failing. You’re just living a real life. One that’s full of love, responsibility, and the occasional (or frequent) moment of nope.
And guess what? That’s okay.