Being a working mom is not easy. You have to be willing to screw

When Jami Gertz declared, “Being a working mom is not easy. You have to be willing to screw up at every level,” she spoke a truth that echoes through the ages — a truth of sacrifice, imperfection, and the quiet heroism of balance. In her words lies no apology, but a recognition: that to walk two paths at once — that of nurturer and that of creator — is to constantly wrestle with the gods of expectation and failure. Yet within this struggle, there is greatness. For the mother who strives, even imperfectly, builds not only her own destiny, but a legacy of courage for her children to inherit.

In the ancient world, women were often seen as the hearth — the still point around which the home revolved. But the working mother is both hearth and flame — she carries warmth and burns forward through the winds of labor and responsibility. Jami Gertz’s words remind us that this dual life is not one of grace without scars. It demands a willingness to stumble, to fall, to admit that perfection is an illusion. The working mother must learn to be forgiving — to herself most of all. For every forgotten lunchbox, every missed meeting, every late-night whisper to a sleeping child carries the silent refrain: I am doing my best. And that, in itself, is sacred.

Consider the story of Cleopatra, queen of Egypt — a ruler, diplomat, and mother. Surrounded by enemies, she bore the weight of empire while tending to her children’s lives. Her reign was marked by brilliance and controversy, success and ruin. Yet history remembers her not for her mistakes, but for her strength and audacity — her refusal to choose between power and love. Like the modern mother, she dared to live fully in both worlds, knowing that to lead and to nurture are not opposing forces, but twin expressions of the same divine fire.

“You have to be willing to screw up at every level.” This is not a confession of defeat, but a proclamation of wisdom. To live without failure is to live without depth. The working mother, in her exhaustion and resilience, becomes the embodiment of imperfect grace — proof that greatness does not come from flawless performance, but from relentless devotion. She teaches her children that success is not found in never falling, but in rising, again and again, for those who depend on her. Her errors are her offerings, her struggles her strength.

There is, too, a hidden beauty in this chaos. The child of a working mother learns early the rhythms of responsibility, the value of effort, the nobility of striving. They see that love does not always wear an apron or wait by the door; sometimes love wears fatigue, carries briefcases, and runs late but always returns. In this way, every “screw-up” becomes a lesson in humanity — teaching compassion, resilience, and humility far more effectively than perfection ever could. Gertz’s words, then, are not a lament, but an anthem for the flawed and the faithful.

In truth, the ancients would have recognized this as the path of the warrior. The mother who works walks through battlefields of deadlines and dinner tables, bearing the armor of patience and the shield of endurance. She may falter, but she never retreats. Each day is a campaign fought not for conquest, but for love — and though her victories are small and quiet, they sustain the world. To “screw up at every level” is to live courageously, to embrace the divine mess of being both human and whole.

The lesson, dear listener, is this: perfection is not the goal — presence is. Do not measure yourself by the standards of a world that worships flawlessness, but by the depth of your care and the constancy of your effort. When you fail, let it be proof that you are alive, reaching beyond comfort toward meaning. Whether you are a parent, a creator, or simply a soul trying to balance love and labor, remember that the cracks in your life are the spaces where light enters.

So go forth as Jami Gertz teaches — unafraid to falter, unashamed to begin again. For the mother who errs with love is closer to the divine than the one who never dares. And when the day ends, and your hands are tired, know this truth: the world stands because of those who keep moving, even when they feel they are failing. To be a working mom — to be any human striving in two worlds — is to live the eternal truth of strength through imperfection.