As the alarm clock rudely interrupts my peaceful slumber, I wonder if today will be the day I master the art of being a full-time working mom with kids and hockey, and the ever-elusive pursuit of a clean house: LAUNDRY PUT AWAY!
Spoiler alert: it’s not.
Each morning feels like a chaotic scene from a sitcom, with kids missing their homework assignments, spilled cereal, the dog and cat chasing one another, and a desperate attempt to shower and look presentable for work after my 20-minute Peloton workout.
No judgment zone–20 minutes is perfect for my mental health. But hey, who needs a peaceful morning when you can have an adrenaline-pumping start to the day? Where are all those endorphins I was promised? I’ll take a coffee with a side order of chaos, please.
I can’t, my kid has practice.
As soon as the workday ends, it’s time for Hockey Mode! We moms turn into sports commentators, knowing more about our children’s sports than we ever thought possible. Cheering so loudly at games that even the players look our way. Arriving to the game decked out in full spirit wear, complete with face paint, foam fingers, and a hoarse voice. Go, team, go!
Practice ends and we head home to air dry our equipment in preparation for the next rink visit. Our garages are overflowing with hockey gear. It’s a scientific fact that hockey gear multiplies when left alone in a confined space. We’ve considered hiring an exorcist to deal with the mysterious odor that emanates from those bags.
Don’t mind the mess, we’re making memories.
Just like my sons practice for hockey, balancing work and children means that I practice having the elusive clean house. It’s like the unicorn in our lives, rumored to exist but rarely seen. Between work, hockey, and maintaining my sanity, finding the time to scrub, sweep, and mop feels like mission impossible.
But hey, I realized that it is okay to ask for help. I hired a cleaning crew to come out and do the deep cleaning. I now have more time to spend at the rink or playing games with my boys. Is my house spotless? No, it’s “lived in chic”!
What the fork is for dinner?
Picture this: mom chopping vegetables, one kid on her hip, phone in the other hand, another kid crying because they are hungry, while mentally calculating how long until she has a breakdown. You see, for moms balancing work and children, preparing dinner nightly is like starring in Iron Chef. We’ve got ingredients flying, timers beeping, and a secret weapon: smoke alarm that doubles as a timer. Cooking dinner doesn’t have to be a nightly kitchen escapade. Invest in a slow cooker, meal prep weekly, grocery shop for only the things you need for the recipes, and turn chaos into dinner.
A friend told me about the little blue Kroger refrigerated van that delivers groceries. GAME CHANGER! I find recipes on SkinnyTaste, meal prep for the week, and order groceries for Sunday morning, all while watching my son warm up for his hockey game on Saturday. Turn that culinary chaos into someone that Gordon Ramsay would be proud of!
It’s the weekend, time to relax (sort of).
After a long weekend of balancing work, hockey, and housekeeping, the weekends are our golden reward. Well, not exactly. Laundry: my arch-nemesis. It multiplies faster than rabbits in a hat!
I’ve come to accept that my laundry pile will forever resemble Mount Everest. However, when I have conquered the world’s messiest mountain, I feel like a champion . . . only to realize that the laundry basket is full the next day. I have mastered the spin cycle and revamped my folding ninja skills–but don’t ask me to iron. That’s why they added the steam cycle on the dryers, right?
Is it Monday already?
Ah, Sunday! Our exhaustion has finally caught up to us, just in time to restart all over again. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever experience true relaxation again. But then, I remember all the laughter, cuddles, and pure love that fills our house.
As a full-time working mom, hockey mom, and champion of cleanliness (even if I pay someone else to do it), I have realized that life is beautifully chaotic. My life isn’t always organized and perfect; it’s messy, laughter-filled, loud, and sometimes stinky, but it’s all mine. I am going to cherish these moments, celebrate the wins (both on and off the ice), and forgive myself for those dust bunnies hiding in the corners.
I will keep juggling those pucks and chores, because my boys are only going to be young once. Being a super mom doesn’t mean you do it all perfectly; it means you keep showing up, no matter how imperfectly things may unfold.
