By Ashley Butler 
Before I had kids of my own, I thought I knew exactly what kind of mom I’d be.
As a young teacher in my 20s, I watched the room moms float in with their calm smiles and organized folders, and I pictured myself doing the same when it was my turn.
When I left the classroom to stay home after my son was born, I assumed I’d slide right into that room mom role someday.
But then real life happened.
Now I have two kids in two different schools on opposite sides of the city, with different start times, different dismissal times, and completely different needs.
Some days it feels like their schedules were designed by two people who have never met. One needs to be dropped off early; the other starts late. One has a special event mid-morning; the other has something at the exact same time, but 20 minutes across town.
And suddenly, the version of me who thought she’d be everywhere at once can barely make it everywhere she actually has to be.
Part of it is we moved away from family in 2022.
There’s no one nearby to step in, help with pickups, or cover a school event when everything overlaps.
For a long time now, it has just been the four of us trying to make it all work, and some days the margin simply isn’t there.
Since my husband works full-time, most of the kid-related logistics naturally fall to me. Appointments, school forms, sudden schedule changes, and all the little things that pop up without warning keep me constantly moving.
It isn’t something I resent; it’s simply the way our life is structured right now.
But it does mean the extra space I imagined having just isn’t there.
Most days, the few hours I have while my daughter is at half-day preschool disappear quickly. They fill with errands, cleaning, trying to squeeze in a workout, or writing in the quiet while I can. And if I happen to have an appointment, that window is gone before I even start the rest.
It isn’t “free time.”
It’s the only time I have to catch up on the rest of our life. And somehow it never feels like enough, like half a breath before the day picks up speed again.
And if I’m honest, there are moments the room mom dream tugs at me a little.
When I see sign-up sheets or photos from classroom events, something inside me whispers, That could’ve been you.
Not out of guilt, but because I genuinely thought I’d be in that world more. I love teachers, I love school environments, and I love being part of the spaces where my kids spend their days.
But wanting something and having the bandwidth for it are two very different things.
There have been moments I wanted to say yes to something small, like helping with a class activity. But almost every time, something came up—a sick kid, an appointment, a schedule change I didn’t plan for.
It’s real life moving faster than I can.
The truth is, I still want to be that mom—the one who volunteers, the one who shows up for every little thing, the one with the extra hour and the calm smile.
Maybe one day I’ll be her.
But the season I’m in doesn’t make space for it, no matter how much I wish it did.
Maybe one day life will slow down enough for me to step into that room mom role I imagined years ago.
For now, I’m the mom who keeps our days moving—the drop-offs and the schedules and the logistics—and I still show up for every play, every meeting, and every moment that truly matters.
I’m learning that sometimes showing up for my kids looks less like being in their classrooms each week and more like holding our whole little world together in the ways they depend on every day.
by Rachel Manley 
by Caitlin Henderson 
