As the epic DC snowstorm of 2025 came to a close last week—for those not familiar, we had 4.5 snow days off school after a two-week winter break, with children on cloud nine and working parents losing it—I find myself reflecting on the week with both exhaustion and gratitude. It was a perfect storm—not just of weather, but of parental endurance and professional juggling. There were moments I was sure I couldn’t possibly make it through, moments I felt like I was failing at everything. And yet, here I am: mom and CEO, doing both. Successfully.
Adrienne Frank was so kind to interview me recently for American University magazine and posted about that conversation in the midst of the storm week. “Working moms can have most things we want, but we can’t do everything at 100 percent all the time. Everybody has a different capacity. At some point, there needs to be sleep and self-care. That doesn’t make us weak; that makes us human.” I shared these thoughts with her during our interview, but the truth of them was brought to life on those snow-filled days when it felt like every demand collided at once.
There was one moment at the bottom of the sledding hill where I had peace looking around at the beauty, listening to the kids, but it was short-lived - someone needed a tissue, another a bandaid and I had a Zoom call to get on.
On Monday, my daughters begged to go sledding. I had emails to answer, strategy meetings to attend, and deadlines looming, but the sheer joy in their eyes pulled me in. So I bundled up, grabbed their sleds, and let work flex around this moment of childhood magic. On Tuesday, we did it again. “Yay!” I thought, embracing the unusual circumstance and the pure kid bliss of two unexpected days off. Even as my to-do list loomed large—every meeting scheduled, every fresh idea waiting in my shiny new day planner—I leaned into their excitement, telling myself it was a gift to savor.
By Wednesday, and then Thursday, as the snow kept sticking and the novelty of being stuck at home began to wear off, reality hit. My task list had grown longer, and the energy required to keep everyone happy was waning. The iPad quickly became an essential part of my parenting toolkit. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked—keeping the kids entertained while I caught up on tasks that simply couldn’t wait. It wasn’t picture-perfect, but it was what we all needed to get through the day.
Through it all, I kept reminding myself: balance isn’t about perfection.
It’s about presence—knowing when to lean into work and when to prioritize family. And when the balance tips too far in one direction, it’s about grace. Grace to accept that some weeks are just plain hard.
Grace to know that meeting everyone’s needs, including my own, sometimes means relying on tools, flexibility, and the occasional frozen pizza.
This snowstorm, as bananas as it was, offered unexpected moments of clarity. Life doesn’t stop just because the snow falls. The sledding hills, video calls, and messy, chaotic days reminded me of a lesson I needed to relearn: my best effort doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to be enough. Everyone had a warm home, good-enough meals, fun in the snow—and most of my emails got answered.
As we head further into this new year, I hold onto the hope that balance is possible, but I’ve also let go of the myth that it’s static. The best we can do is aim for balance, cherish grace when it fails us, and embrace the messiness of being human.
Here’s to the rest of 2025—and to the many lessons, big and small, it has in store. After all, we’ve only just finished the first full week!
Sarah Wells is the author of Go Ask Your Mothers: One Simple Step for Managers to Support Working Moms for Team Success, and CEO & founder of a mission-driven brand empowering parents with innovative breastfeeding support products. She also leads the Otrera Collective, a mastermind supporting woman-owned small businesses. Sarah collaborates with Employee Resource Groups, management teams, and leadership events to help organizations foster supportive, thriving environments for working moms. Connect with Sarah through Substack, via LinkedIn or directly here.
