“What Do Moms Do All Day?” — The Question Every Creative Mom Gets Asked

What do moms do all day? Creative mom life reflection, incoming..

It sounds like a simple question, but if you’re a mom without a traditional job — or one who leans into creative work as your daily rhythm — you know it’s never simple. Once school starts back up and the routines settle in, someone always asks it:

“So… now that your kid’s back in school, what do you do all day?”

The insanity of that question is kind of wild.

The Question That Never Fails to Startle

Because any mom — stay-at-home, part-time, or full-time career — knows you can fill every single minute of your day doing something valuable and worthy. You’re making your home a happy place to land, keeping dishes clean, clothes folded, food stocked, and everyone alive and mostly content.

And yes, some people have help. Nannies, housekeepers, family nearby. But even without that, there’s always something to do. So when people ask, “What do you do all day?” I’m always a little startled.

The Myth of the "Always Clean" House

Here’s the thing: I don’t have a nanny. I don’t have a housekeeper. I work with my family to keep our home clean, happy, and light.

“How do you keep your house so clean??” a mom friend once asked me.

I quietly died of laughter inside while picturing how the house had looked the day before — clutter, dirty dishes, piles of laundry. I calmly replied, “Oh, I like to clean when people come over.”

Do I care when it’s not perfect? Sometimes. Mostly when playdates or friends are coming over, or when I’m de-stressing through cleaning and organizing. My brain craves polish and calm. You know the feeling — one too many Paw Patrol characters sprawled on the carpet, shoes sprinkled down the hallway, stuffies wedged in couch crevices, and a small art studio (specializing in rainbows) taking over the kitchen table.

I’m here for all of it — but I also crave order when things start to tip into clutter.

If the floor’s picked up, the counters are clean, and the cat litter’s fresh, I’m good.

So, what do moms do all day? Maybe we clean. But not without a million tabs open in our brains — processing, planning, analyzing, and dreaming all at once. Taking care of ALL. THE. THINGS.

Because moms aren’t built to think only in the present. We don’t think quietly. And we definitely don’t think small.

Moms Aren’t Built to Think Small

So what do moms do all day?

The truth is, though, my brain can’t just do mom stuff all day long.

And I know I'm not alone.

Most moms I know — most women I know — have these massive, active, buzzing brains filled with ideas, feelings, dreams, and energy. There’s a constant pull between caretaking and creating. Between home and imagination. Between loving your family fiercely and wanting something that’s just yours.

So, back to the question: “What do you do all day?”

I try to take it as curiosity — like, oh that’s nice, people care what I’m doing.

But usually, I lie.

I’ll say, “Oh, you know, just mom stuff… a little work here and there.”

But that’s not true.

When the Kid Leaves, the Creativity Starts

The second my daughter walks out the door, I go straight into creative mode.

I pour my coffee, sit down in my office, and work for hours.

Yes, I get up to change the laundry, water the plants, or feed the cats — but mostly, I’m working.

And the obvious follow-up question: “Working on what?”

That’s the funny part. Because any creative person who works for themselves — writer, photographer, artist, dreamer — knows that half of what you work on will never see the light of day.

And yet, it’s still progress. It’s still movement. It’s still like brain exercise — every project, every draft, every idea builds muscle and structure for the next big thing.

And then, out of nowhere, one of those projects does become the thing. The one that changes everything. That’s the nature of creative work — it’s invisible until it’s not.

It doesn’t always make sense to people who get paid by the hour or the task.

And sometimes "nontraditional" work or anything "stay at home mom" coded gets looked down on. RE: "Why Do We Still Look Down on Stay-at-Home Moms" - Neha Ruch, Oprah

But I don’t get paid for the hours I work. I get paid — sometimes — for the output that comes months or years later.

I’m lucky. I built something sustainable: a blog, two cookbooks, partnerships, an audience that’s stuck with me. But the goal isn’t the money — it’s the process. It’s the doing. The creating. The staying curious.

For years, my blog was my living, breathing record of that process.

Now, I’m in a different space. A more balanced one.

Somewhere Between Carpool and the Comeback

If I had to describe it in one phrase, I’m somewhere between carpool and the comeback.

My daughter’s finally old enough that my brain feels like it’s recovered from early motherhood. But now, it’s like I got off a long flight — one that was beautiful and exhausting and life-changing — and I’ve landed somewhere new.

You know that feeling when the plane lands and you’re disoriented? You step out, look around, and think, wait… where am I?

That’s me right now. I’ve landed. I have time. I have ideas. And I’m figuring out what this new destination is — where to go next, what it all means, and what I actually want.

Because yes, I have hours in the day now.

And every day, I ask myself the same question: What am I going to do with them?

It’s not about productivity. It’s about presence. It’s about creating something that feels like me.

The Invisible Work Still Counts

And honestly, I think a lot of moms are here right now — wrestling with that same tension. The world praises the moms who “do it all,” but we rarely celebrate the ones who are simply thinking deeply. Dreaming. Rebuilding. Reemerging.

Because all of it — the caregiving, the laundry, the creativity, the invisible mental load — it’s unpaid labor. And it comes at the cost of women’s time, energy, and often, their sense of self.

But it also gives us something profound: availability.

We’re there when the kid gets sick. We’re there for carpool. We’re there when the world needs us.

And that, in itself, has value.

The real magic happens when you can find the space between — the space between carpool and the comeback — where you can create something that’s yours. Something small, maybe unseen, but deeply yours.

So, what do I do all day?

I work. I dream. I think. I clean. I create.

And I remind myself that all of it counts.

And if you’re in that space too — where your days feel long but your identity feels blurry — you’re not alone.

You’re in the in-between with me.

And we need each other. Connection, being seen, and positive support matter in motherhood. Profoundly. 

Alone, you will fizzle and flop and get pulled back into the tide of mainstream, what everyone else is doing or tells you to do.

Leadership. Voice. Curiosity. Reflection. It’s brave work.

When the World Says “Get a Real Job”

Because the world can make you feel bad for being a creative thinker. For choosing to spend your time on work that doesn’t get paid. It whispers: why don’t you just get a normal job? Go make some money. Help support your family. What are you even doing all day?

And honestly? My own brain tells me that sometimes too. Especially when I see friends picking up part-time jobs — making income, having structure, feeling productive.

But I also know this: there’s something deeply valuable about choosing this path. Not everyone does. Not everyone can. The world needs deep thinkers. It needs the people who slow down, feel everything, and hold space for the rest of us. 

The emotional reflection on the complexity of motherhood.

The ones who make sense of the noise — who connect pop culture, motherhood, society, money, and emotion into something that actually means something.

That’s what I’m doing. I’m holding space for it all.

While some of my friends are at work, I’m here thinking, writing, feeling, noticing — so I can give language to the things we all feel but rarely say out loud.

And when I hear from someone else who’s doing that too — wrestling with the same doubts, but still choosing to create anyway — I feel less alone.

Why I’m Sharing This Anyway

That’s why I’m sharing this.

Because maybe if you’re fighting that same internal battle, you’ll remember you’re not alone either.