Working Full Time While Raising Kids: Practical Tips For Common Behavior And Connection Challenges
I was on a client check-in call last Tuesday, laptop propped on the kitchen counter, half my hair pulled up with a broken glitter hair clip my 4-year-old gave me, a half-eaten granola bar stuck to the edge of my notebook. My 7-year-old and 4-year-old were supposed to be sticking to our after-school deal: 30 minutes of screen time while I wrap up my last meeting of the day. Then I heard a thud, a high-pitched shriek, and “SHE TOOK MY LIGHTSABER AND CUT OFF MY DINO’S TAIL.” The whole thing carried straight through my muted mic, and my client laughed and said, “I’ve got three, go take two minutes, I’ll wait.”
I separated the kids, taped the dino tail back on with packing tape, reminded them of the agreement, and trudged back to my call. After we hung up, I leaned against the fridge staring at the sink full of dirty dishes, and that unspoken question crossed my mind: how many of us are actually doing this? No extended family living down the street, no full-time nanny, just juggling deadlines and kid meltdowns and grocery runs every single day, no guidebook to tell us if we’re doing it right.
A few months back, I got that call every working parent dreads: my 7-year-old’s first grade teacher wanted to meet after school. He’d started acting out during circle time, refusing to follow directions, picking fights on the playground. I left work 20 minutes early, my stomach in knots, already convinced the problem was me. I work full time, I miss more class parties than I make, I’m usually too tired to do fancy craft projects after dinner. Of course he’s acting out, I thought. I’m not there enough.
When I sat down in her classroom, Mrs. Lopez—who has two teen boys of her own and also coaches soccer after school—didn’t pull out a behavior chart or give me a lecture. She just leaned back and asked what our daily routine looked like, no judgment. I walked her through it: up at 6, drop them off at before-care by 7:30, work all day, pick them up from after-care at 5:30, rush home, cram in homework, answer a few last emails while they play, bath, bed, then I’m back at my desk until 9. I told her I’d been thinking about cutting my hours to part time, even though it would mean we couldn’t keep our house.
That’s when she pointed out something I’d completely missed. My son isn’t acting out because I work. He’s acting out because between school and after-care, he spends eight hours a day following other people’s rules, waiting his turn for attention, and holding in all the small stuff that bugs him. When he finally gets to me, the only way he knows how to get my full, undivided attention is to misbehave. Good behavior gets half an eye while I answer emails, bad behavior gets me dropping everything to come deal with it. It made sense, even if it stung a little to hear.
She didn’t tell me I needed to quit my job or spend two hours of quality time with each kid every day. She gave me three small, low-effort changes to try, all things that fit into our existing routine. The first is 10 minutes of unstructured, no-distraction check-in right after pick up. I keep a bag of gummy bears in the glove box, put my work phone on do not disturb before we pull out of the parking lot, and each kid gets five full minutes to talk about whatever they want. I don’t fix their problems, I don’t lecture them about being kind to their sibling, I just listen. If they want to ramble for five minutes about which Minecraft character is the best, that’s all I do.
The second change is a sticky note on their lunch box every morning. I write one specific, tiny line about something I’m looking forward to with them that day—“Can’t wait to hear how your soccer practice goes tonight” or “I saved you a chocolate chip cookie for after work”—and stick it on. It takes 10 seconds, but it gives them something to hold onto all day while we’re apart.
Third, I stopped treating work time after pick up like a secret shame I have to apologize for. Instead of just saying “go be quiet while mommy works,” I give them a clear choice and a clear end time. “I need to answer emails for 45 minutes, then we can all make brownies. You can choose to build with legos or watch one episode of your show right now.” Predictability takes away the urge to act out to get my attention, because they know exactly when their turn is coming.
We’ve been doing these changes for three months, and Mrs. Lopez called last week to say the acting out has almost completely stopped. It’s not all perfect, of course. Last week I had a last-minute deadline pop up, so we skipped our car check-ins, and by the time I was done my older son had drawn a dinosaur on the living room wall with permanent marker. I didn’t even yell. I just got a sponge, sat down with him to clean it off, and rescheduled my deadline an hour so we could go get ice cream like we’d planned.
I still miss school events sometimes. We eat take out three nights a week, and my kids have eaten more goldfish crackers for dinner than I care to count. I still have nights where I lay awake feeling guilty that I’m not doing enough. But more and more, I’m learning that kids don’t need perfect, full-time attention to feel loved. They just need small, consistent signs that they matter, that their turn is coming. Most of us working parents are just out here figuring it out as we go, and that’s enough more often than we think.
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