I hear women say, 'It's so hard to be a working parent because

Hearken, O children of generations yet unborn, and lend ear to the pragmatic and enduring wisdom of Alisyn Camerota, whose voice calls forth a liberating truth from the crucible of modern life: “I hear women say, 'It's so hard to be a working parent because you can't give 100% to everything.' And I say, 'So what. Who cares?' I'm a big proponent of the Good Enough School Of Parenting and the Good Enough School Of Journalism.” In these words lies a profound recognition: that the burdens of perfection are illusions that enslave the spirit, and that grace, balance, and sufficiency may serve as nobler guides than endless striving.

The origin of this reflection emerges from Camerota’s life as a journalist and parent, immersed in the pressures of public scrutiny and private responsibility. She observed how society exacts a fearsome toll upon those who attempt to excel simultaneously in all arenas. The modern world offers countless metrics of success, yet often fails to honor human limits and priorities. Camerota’s counsel echoes the ancient insight that wisdom lies not in perfect execution, but in measured and meaningful action, and that the pursuit of completeness at all costs is a path to frustration and despair.

The meaning of her words is both practical and profound. To embrace the “Good Enough School” is to acknowledge human imperfection, to accept that one cannot pour all of oneself into every task without sacrificing vitality, joy, and equilibrium. It is a teaching of freedom, self-compassion, and discernment, urging parents, workers, and learners to recognize the limits of human capacity while still offering sincerity, attention, and love where it truly matters.

Consider the life of Marie Curie, who pursued revolutionary work in science while raising two daughters. She could not devote herself fully to every household task, nor could she shield her children from every difficulty. Yet she nurtured them with intention and presence, and guided them with values and curiosity that would endure far beyond daily perfection. Her life exemplifies Camerota’s lesson: the measure of care is not flawless execution, but meaningful engagement and balance.

Camerota’s words also carry a subtle yet powerful admonition: society’s expectation of perfection is neither natural nor necessary. To be constantly torn between conflicting obligations is to invite fatigue, guilt, and bitterness. To accept that “good enough” suffices is to reclaim agency over one’s life, to prioritize what truly matters, and to release the relentless anxiety of measuring oneself against impossible standards. Here lies a liberation that is both emotional and practical.

The lesson for future generations is radiant: embrace balance, sufficiency, and intention in all undertakings. Seek excellence where it matters, but honor your limits. Measure success not by flawless accomplishment, but by the authenticity and care you bring to your responsibilities. Children, colleagues, and communities flourish not because one person gives 100% to all things, but because one gives focused, thoughtful, and consistent attention to what matters most.

In practical life, one may follow Camerota’s counsel by cultivating prioritization, self-compassion, and deliberate engagement. Release the need to excel in every moment; focus on what nurtures growth, love, and understanding. Model resilience and balance to your children, colleagues, and peers, showing that it is both honorable and sufficient to do well without striving for the impossible. By this, one nurtures not only others, but also oneself.

Thus, O children of future ages, carry this teaching as both shield and lamp: the path of good enough is neither laziness nor failure, but wisdom incarnate. Strive with intention, act with presence, and release the illusion of perfection. In this, the soul finds balance, the family finds peace, and the work of life—whether in parenting, craft, or duty—becomes sustainable, meaningful, and enduring, a legacy of both grace and courage for generations yet to come.