A trainer recently asked me if I had any goals for my new gym membership. The truth is no, I don’t. It’s glaringly true at this point in my life that the shape of my body does not endanger me, but the shape of my mind? This is the true threat.

I think everyone knows motherhood messes with your body, and that’s another post entirely, but I’ve never heard much talk about how it messes with your mind. In other roles I’ve had in my life (teacher, assistant, journalist, etc.), my mind has always been occupied on the task at hand. But staying at home with kids, that’s a different kind of job. I imagine it’s similar to being a trucker—miles of work ahead but the mind is free to wander. Also there are frequent caffeine stops and the ever-present threat of someone barging in when you’re trying to shower.

I just decided two things: 1. I am not going to fold that pile of laundry over there even though it is glaring at me, and 2. I am banning the phrases “mom guilt” and “mom fail” from my life. Both the laundry and the words have been oppressing me, and I am not interested in being oppressed by anything, especially an inanimate pile of clothes and an inanimate pile of letters. 

When I was a teacher, I did not suffer under “teacher guilt” or say something was a “teacher fail.” When I was a student, I did not have “student guilt” or say something was a “student fail.” I have never said the phrases “wife guilt” or called something a “wife fail,” and I don’t think I’ve ever heard my husband say “dad guilt” or “dad fail.” Maybe it’s just an issue of semantics (although the words we use matter, don’t they?), or maybe it’s something a lot deeper. Maybe the mom role is uniquely guilt-laden.