3 Things I Stopped Doing To Save My Sanity as a Working Mom

Let’s be real—trying to “do it all” as a working mom is a one-way ticket to burnout. Between lesson planning, dinner planning, and life planning, I am stretched so thin I feel like a string cheese (and not even the organic kind). So little by little, I’m learning to let go of the things that don’t serve me—or my sanity.

Here are three things I’ve stopped doing, and spoiler alert: the world hasn’t ended. In fact, I might be a better mom because of it.

1. Keeping Up With Laundry (or Pretending I Ever Did)

At this point, the big cozy chair in our bedroom seen below serves exactly one purpose: it’s the laundry chair. The armrests are wide enough to stack folded sweatshirts (aka what I wear to bed), the pillow holds a rotating collection of shirts and leggings, and anything that risks wrinkles gets draped across the back. It works just as well as a hanger, with way less commitment. The kids’ clothes are almost always on the table in our room and we can rarely find matching socks. 

Laundry has always been my least favorite chore. I’m great at tossing it in the washer and dryer, but folding? Nope. For years, I’ve carried a decent amount of anxiety about this because my husband who has a bit of OCD get’s worse anxiety in a messy house. Which, honestly, makes the whole thing kind of ironic. As a Type B mom with a full mental load and some pretty fierce ADD, I often feel alone when I scroll past Instagram posts of pristine homes and moms “venting” about their husbands leaving toothpaste caps off. Meanwhile, my husband recently apologized for not cleaning bird poop off our living room windows… that poop could have been there since we moved here in 2018 and I would have never known. I’m grateful every day that I married someone who doesn’t expect perfection—because he’s definitely not getting it.

Anyway, back to the laundry. I’m finally accepting that it’s always going to be last on my priority list. It doesn’t affect my kids’ well-being, it’s not cluttering the main living space, and life moves forward whether my clothes are on a hanger or lounging on the laundry chair. I’ve also realized that on my husband’s personal clean-o-meter, laundry ranks pretty low. He cares most about the kitchen and living room being clean—which, honestly, same. That’s where I try to put my energy when cleaning has to happen (which is always).

I’m currently training my oldest daughter to fold and put things away, and let me tell you—that will be her first official chore. It’s a small win in the great laundry saga, but I’ll take it. And like I told her last week, if you need socks that match, that is officially a you problem. 

2. Dinner Drama

Raise your hand if you swore—loud and proud—that you would never be the mom who makes separate meals for her kids. Same. I was fully convinced that would be the hill I stood on when it came to boundaries.

And to be clear: I don’t make separate meals every night. I still care about this boundary. But I’ve also learned to bend it—mostly in the name of saving my sanity and avoiding nightly dinner meltdowns.

For starters, I hate cooking dinner now. Before kids, I actually loved it. I was even… decent. But these days? The thought of pouring time, energy, and love into a meal only to have it met with dramatic groans and a chorus of “I want something else!” is just not it. Plus, we get home from school and daycare around 5:30, which gives me exactly 20 minutes before the hangry chaos begins. We do car snacks, yes—but some mysterious after-school hunger vortex still opens up the second we walk in the door.

So in those 20 minutes, I do what I must. Blippi goes on the TV, and I pull together something that checks three boxes: fast, familiar, and mildly nutritious. Sometimes that means tacos, chickpea pasta with meatballs, or burgers and sweet potato fries. And sometimes it means mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, or frozen pizza. (Especially on Thursdays—our version of Friday because we have 4 day school weeks here). 

To keep myself feeling good about it, I do splurge on the cleaner, better-ingredient versions of these quick meals. Because if I’m going to microwave chicken nuggets, they’re going to be the ones you see below…Perdue organic gluten-free nuggets—truly the MVP of my mental sanity. My kids love them, I love them, they have a solid ingredient profile, and they’re actually good straight out of the microwave (which is where we’re at in life).

Other dinner heroes? Siete almond flour tortillas for tacos, Siete tortilla chips (cooked in avocado oil!), and Caulipower or Amy’s pizzas. Are they perfect? Nope. Are they better than the bright-orange dye-filled versions we grew up on? Absolutely.

These days, I’ve accepted that weeknights are not for trying new recipes. That’s reserved for the weekends—if everyone’s well-rested, crying is at minimum, and I somehow remember to defrost the moose in the freezer (my husband is a hunter and blesses us with meat for the freezer each fall).

Oh, and a quick shout out to the book Cook Once, Eat All Week by Cassy Joy Garcia. It’s actually helping me reclaim a tiny bit of kitchen confidence. I’ve finally accepted that I need to follow a recipe to make food taste decent—and this book breaks it down beautifully. You prep for an hour or two on the weekend, then dinner comes together in 15-ish minutes during the week. On those nights, if I know the kids won’t be into it, I’ll make them a simplified version of the same meal and add a “safe” food I know for sure they will like (usually a fruit). 

We still have tantrums and dinner battles of course, but these small adjustments definitely help me with that portion of my mental load on work nights. 

3. Trying to Be Part of Every Bedtime

This one was surprisingly easy to let go of—mostly because my kids kind of made the decision for me. For whatever reason, they’ve entered a full-on Daddy at bedtime, Mommy in the morning phase. And honestly? It works out great, because by 7:30 p.m., I’m emotionally tapped out and more than ready to hand off the baton.

I used to feel guilty about not being the mom who spends 30 minutes reading, snuggling, and singing sweet lullabies to each kid. But I’m learning that… that’s just not me. I spend my entire day teaching other people’s kids how to read and managing classroom chaos. By bedtime, I’m all out of snuggles and stories.

I still show up—just in a speedier way. I usually get Violet into pajamas, change her diaper, and read a super short book to both of them (5 minutes max). Then it’s hugs, kisses, and “I love you so much, see you in the morning!” After that, my husband takes over. He sings, snuggles, reads more if they ask, and does whatever bedtime magic he does… I honestly don’t even know, because by then I’m halfway to my own bed.

The way I see it, bedtime has become their special “daddy time,” and that’s a win for everyone. He gets home later from work, so they love that one-on-one time. And on the rare nights I’m totally wiped or not feeling well, he does the whole bedtime routine solo without skipping a beat.

At this point, I’ve let go of the bedtime guilt. I pour so much love, energy, and patience into other parts of our day—so letting go of bedtime expectations for myself has been one of the best decisions I’ve made for my sanity. 

I’d love to hear from other moms—what have you let go of to lighten the mental load of motherhood and protect your sanity? Drop a comment below and share your go-to shortcuts or mindset shifts. Let’s swap ideas and remind each other we’re not alone in this chaos!

Let’s not lose our minds together,

Tori