Driving to collect my son, Sawyer, 13, from afterschool sports, with my 9-year-old daughter, Kate, in the backseat bopping to the radio, I had high hopes for a happy evening. There's nothing like leaving the stresses of the workday behind and reconnecting with two of the people I love most in the world. I dreamed of a calm, loving homecoming, a welcome retreat from the chaos of the outside world.

With Sawyer in the car, we headed home as I mentally prepared for a relaxing dinner of roast chicken and baked potatoes and family togetherness. Suddenly, a rude awakening.

"I was talking," Kate barked at Sawyer. "Don't interrupt me!"

"I only said Nebraska has more in it than dirt!" he shot back.

"Teacher's pet, know-it-all!"

"Quit it, you two!" I snapped. They were silent. I was irked. My vision of peace and harmony had already bitten the dust. Not only that, a good mom would have countered her kids' spat with an example of how to handle a disagreement sans shouting. After all, they just wanted to be heard after a long day. Hmm...me, too.

When we got home, Kate refused to get out of the car. Sawyer, as always, was so eager to get in the house that he pushed through the door at the same time I did and launched his 40-pound backpack into a fly-by past my head, leaving a vapor trail of dirty sports socks, sneakers and school papers in its wake.

Yes, this was just the beginning of what some working moms call their second shift and some, like me, call the witching hour. It's that rude bump of transition time from work and school to home. You rush around, simultaneously trying to get your kids settled, dinner on the table and the house tidied. Why does this all feel like so much pressure? Too much pressure? There's a lot you could feel guilty about if you were so inclined. I happen to be so inclined.

As I whirled around the house doing all those little chores I felt honor-bound to do—putting in the laundry, gathering the mail, sneaking a peak at my work emails—I thought: Don't let the stress get to you. Ignore the throbbing vein in your right temple. Kate finally plodded into the house.


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