I don’t talk about this much, but I’m a recovering supermom.
I never aspired to be a supermom. I never signed up for the job. But at some point, that’s what people started calling me.
I guess it was meant as a compliment — at least, I initially took it as such. I’d been an overachiever for most of my life, and it only made sense that I should continue overachieving at my job while also overachieving at motherhood.
When I returned to work 10 weeks after giving birth to my first child, I did all the things. I made casseroles on the weekend to freeze. I jogged with a stroller. I breastfed and pumped. I went to the farmer’s market on Sundays.