The oven timer is buzzing, but so is my phone. At a glance I can see it’s a call I have to take. It’s a work call, although my employee handbook states my time on the clock ended at five. Cussing under my breath, I take the call, giving the caller on the other end the sweetest side of me. This side of me is helpful and patient as they tell me there is more data needed for a project. While trying to listen the lists of needs, beside me is my nine-year-old son who is trying to be helpful and climbs the cabinet to grab the tea pitcher. The tea pitcher is for the tea that is now boiling over on the stove top because I wasn’t paying attention to what is going on around me. My son slips on the counter, almost falling headfirst into the hard floor of the kitchen, because I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me. The kitchen now smells like burned lasagna, because well, it’s burning, and I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me. I scolded him for climbing without my help and almost hurting himself after placing my call on mute. I unmute the call to tell the caller that I will have the information ready for them first thing in the morning. I’m not sure how, though. We have dinner, then soccer, then we need to study for a spelling test. I hung the call up, grabbed the burned lasagna out of the oven, and poured the pot of tea into the pitcher.

I quickly set the table and called for everyone to eat. My eleven-year-old is secluded himself in his room, gaming with his friends. With his headphones on, he hadn’t heard me. We all sat at the table as a pulled the burned cheese from the lasagna, trying to salvage one thing at the table. I glance at my oldest son’s seat at the table, realizing he still hasn’t shown. I marched to his room and swung his door open, he whipped around in his gaming chair, startled. I impatiently, and not so nicely, tell him to get to the table and that dinner is ready.

We eat in silence. Me, thinking about how I am supposed to get everything done tonight, and the rest because they have been yelled at since walking into the house. I grow irritated because everyone is just shoveling food around their plates, not eating a bite. I push my plate away from me and tell the youngest to either eat or get ready for practice. I cover the food up on the stove because there is no time to put it away.

At practice, I take a seat in my too expensive chair, and bring out my laptop. No better time than the present to get reports ran. Wrong. My son just scored against a defender who has been getting the better of him since the first day of travel practice. Did I see it? No. Did he see me working instead of watching? Yes. I glanced up just as he turned away from me. I can see he was defeated. I yelled out to him that he will get it next time, not realizing that he got it this time. I didn’t see it because I wasn’t paying attention that was going on around me.

On a silent ride home from practice, my oldest calls me and asks me to stop at the store for a project board. A project? Oh, his science fair project! The one we didn’t start because I was too consumed with everything else. I yell at him for not reminding me sooner because of course it’s due the day after next. He apologizes, quietly. We were almost home when my youngest pipes up and tells me he forgot his water bottle. The too expensive water bottle I had just bought for him, specifically for practice and game days. I muttered something that I shouldn’t have said under my breath, sure that he heard it. I text his coach, while driving, to ask him to grab it if he finds it. I’ll just have to buy another one, I suppose.

I get home to order everyone into showers and sit down at my makeshift work-from-home desk and attempt to focus on my own project. Which reminds me of my son’s project. I get everything from my car and sit down to help him get started on it. I glance at the time, and it’s well passed his bedtime. I angrily tell him we will have to sit down and do it tomorrow because time is up for tonight and that we should have started it sooner. I yelled out ‘goodnight’ to everyone out of habit and settled in for a long night.

If you made it this far, I indeed finished my project. Had it sent in before the deadline I had set for myself. There wasn’t a thank you or a single praise for getting it done on such short notice. The notice came after hours, while cooking dinner for my family, who deserved the side of me I gave the caller. The side that was kind, patient, understanding, and helpful.

Currently in a place where I am forced to slow down, I realize so much more. I burned the lasagna and ruined the tea because I was preoccupied. My youngest wanted to help get dinner ready because he saw I needed the help. My oldest didn’t hear me call for him because was immersed in his game with his friends, probably because they had the time for him. I missed a proud moment, where my son outplayed his defender, because I was working. I forgot about my oldest son’s project, that he did indeed told me about weeks prior, but I kept putting it off. I had more important things to do. The water bottle was found and was a really stupid thing to be upset over.

Now, this isn’t the part of the story where you tell me “It’s okay, you were doing the best you could. It’s hard being a working mother.” I’ve heard it. I know that phrase by heart. But it was an excuse. It is an excuse. If you disagree, then kudos for having your schedule optimized. Mine wasn’t. I lived in a state of chaos. I was hurting everyone around me because I was giving my best side of me to people who couldn’t have cared less. And they didn’t.

If you’re struggling to make a work life balance, and have tried every route to achieve it, change it. Change jobs. Don’t miss the kids, don’t burn the dinner, and give your best self to the people that matter. You can be replaced the next day at work, but you can’t replace a mom.