To the System That Failed Single Moms

I'm writing this after missing another promotion announcement. They gave it to Brad.

Brad, who leaves at 3 PM for his kid's soccer practice. Once a month when he actually goes to practice, everyone calls him an "amazing dad" and asks how he "juggles it all." Meanwhile his wife is home making dinner for the other two kids and handling bedtime alone.

I leave at 5:47 PM exactly — racing to daycare before the $1-per-minute late fees kick in — and somehow I'm "not committed enough."

Little do they know that racing to pickup is the best part of my day. That I'd pay that dollar a minute to leave earlier if I could, just to see their faces light up when I'm first in line.

Then I'm back online at 9 PM after bedtime, finishing everything I missed, trying not to fall further behind while they dream — hopefully not absorbing the stress and exhaustion I radiate despite my best efforts to hide it.

You built a world where I'm supposed to lean in at work like I don't have children, and parent like I don't have a career.

Except I don't have a partner to tag in when the school calls about a fever.

Their other parent didn't answer because "their job is more important." My family lives three states away. It's just me, apologizing to my boss. Again.

And then my therapist tells me "even if you were still married, he wouldn't help anyway." As if that's supposed to make me feel better about carrying it all alone.

Meanwhile, my married coworkers who complain about their husbands "not helping enough" still make it to 7 PM team dinners. I'm creating homework stations on the bleachers at flag football practice, digging for forgotten snack packs at the bottom of my purse because my eight-year-old can't stay home alone.

While their "unhelpful" partners are at least physically present, feeding the kids chicken nuggets with football blaring through the house.

The mom guilt hits different when there's no one else to blame. Every missed recital is on me. Every store-bought birthday cake instead of homemade. Every "Mommy's working" when they ask for one more story.

My LinkedIn feed is full of women "having it all" — the career, the kids, the side hustle. What they don't show is the husband handling bedtime while they build their empire. Or the grandparents who live nearby. Or the nanny their dual income affords.

Or any single parent actually being fully present with their kids instead of mentally calculating how to afford next month's field trip when the next paycheck doesn't come for four more days.

Where are the moms who've been asked in job interviews — illegally — about their "childcare arrangements"? Who've been passed over for travel assignments because "it must be hard with kids"? Who've been told they're "so brave" for doing it alone, as if we had a choice?

The parenting apps want me to track organic meal prep and milestone moments. I'm tracking who can pick up my kid if I'm stuck in a meeting that "could have been an email." The career coaches say "find a mentor." When? Between the 6 AM wake-up and the 11 PM collapse?

You celebrate working moms every Mother's Day, then penalize us the other 364 days for having priorities beyond profit margins.

My performance review said I "lack executive presence." Know what kills executive presence? The goldfish crackers in my purse. The Daniel Tiger song I accidentally hummed in a board meeting. The fact that I can't do drinks after work because babysitters cost more than I make in overtime.

I'm not looking for pity. I'm looking for change. For one other mom who gets that "having it all" means doing it all. Alone. While being judged for not doing any of it well enough.

Tomorrow, Brad will get celebrated for his promotion. I'll smile and clap while calculating if I can afford to stay in this job that sees me as half an employee because I'm a whole parent.

Surely there's someone out there who understands that choosing yourself and your children shouldn't mean losing at everything else.