Guilt was not a huge part of my vocabulary until I became a mom. I never felt much guilt about how I spent my time. Didn’t feel guilty about sleeping in, or working out, or having a girls’ night out. And so on and so forth.
And then I became a mom. You know, that moment when you get shoved into the most beautiful world; a place more beautiful than you could ever imagine, and then the door to your prior world gets slammed shut and padlocked behind you.
To be exact, I became a trauma surgeon mom. A mom that can work in a week and a half what most Americans might work in a month. I work crazy hours, am tired almost every single day, and typically I get only one weekend off a month. Nope, no pity party here. I chose it, and I love it. But, as I mentioned in the recent Forbes article, try as I might, I just can’t seem to find more than 24 hours in a day.
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