March 16, 2026

This spring, we’re focusing our energy on community-building–from political action workshops to helping you retool your budget to be less consumption-minded. And being more community-focused means putting your dollars where they can make the most impact: through a community foundation that’s fueled by people in their local region. 

For those of us here in the NYC area, The New York Community Trust is the region’s trusted community foundation, playing a vital role in making life better for everyone, from those struggling to pay the bills to immigrant families and LGBTQ+ communities, among many more. With more than 2,200 charitable funds created to benefit NYC and beyond, a Donor-Advised Fund at The New York Community Trust is the best first step to make a big difference. A DAF works like a charitable checkbook that lets you give tax-smart, eliminate paperwork, and use a variety of assets. Your fund is invested for growth, meaning your money often goes further than through a simple donation.

Level up your giving to the causes you care about with The New York Community Trust. 

By Holly Trantham

It has now been just under six months since I had a baby, two and a half months since I’ve been back at work, and six weeks since we started full time childcare. I have yet to share too many thoughts about being a working mom here, partially because I know the majority of you reading this are not parents (or at least, not yet), but also because…I still don’t feel like one. 

The connotations of “working mom” have always skewed largely negative to me. A working mom is someone who has been forced to pick between caring for her child and going after her career goals, whose entire life is underscored by a soft hum of guilt — distracted by missing her children during the workday, constantly refreshing her email when she’s home with them. She’s in a constant state of overwhelm, never able to be fully present. She shares relatable photos in her Instagram stories of the spitup-covered blouse she had to go to work in because she didn’t have a change of clothes packed on her way to daycare. She commiserates with other moms about how her well-meaning but ultimately useless husband packed all the wrong things for her kid’s lunch. 

Every morning, I wake up when my daughter, Sadie, does, usually between 6:30 and 7am. I give her her meds, change her diaper and her clothes, have a little snuggle session, make her bottles for the day, feed her, make myself a little presentable, strap her into her carrier, probably change her diaper again, and walk the five minutes to drop her at daycare by 8:15. I don’t rush through any of it. Afterwards, I either head to a yoga or pilates class just down the block, or go back home and get an hour of work done before our daily check-in on Slack. Since I stopped pumping a month into returning to work (the best decision I’ve made for my mental health and energy levels), the rest of my day looks like a pretty typical millennial work-from-home setup: alternating between zoom meetings, focused work, and popping in a load of laundry. My husband, Peter, gets home with Sadie in tow around 5:15. About twice a week, I leave for the evening for a skating class or plans with friends. Otherwise, I play with Sadie while Peter cooks or heats up leftovers, then he puts her to bed by 7:30, and we have a few hours to catch up on Love Story or The Boyfriend, our two current obsessions. I start my bedtime routine around 9:30 or 10, read my book for a bit, and fall asleep no later than 11. 

It’s not that I don’t have moments of overwhelm. I certainly do, whether that’s soothing a fussy baby who has never felt the feeling of a tooth breaking through her gums before, dealing with a stressful work-related deadline, or simply reading the news. I have found myself forgetting small things at work, like accidentally leaving someone off a calendar invite or waiting longer than usual to finalize copy for a video thumbnail — the kinds of things I was pretty much completely on top of pre-pregnancy. I have spent many a night spiraling while googling “is X thing my baby is doing normal,” even now, when I thought the newborn-stage anxiety would have totally passed. (Spoiler alert: the anxiety of parenthood is never going to pass.)

But I would not describe my life as overwhelming. It is full, but mostly with joy. I feel like I am able to be mentally present the majority of the time, whether I’m with my family or I’m at work. So when I see social media posts with reminders like “Just know you’re doing great, mama,” I don’t feel like they are for me. Part of me feels like I have not earned the right to wear the title of “working mom” like a badge of honor. Shouldn’t a working mom feel overburdened from both poles of her life? If my life doesn’t feel that hard, do I really deserve the recognition that other moms get for their sacrifices? Does this mean I’m not working hard enough at either aspect, work or motherhood?

It’s not that I feel that parenthood is easy; it is not easy to constantly be thinking about the needs of another person who is not capable of considering those needs on their own. But it does feel like something I have been prepared for, at least up to this point. (This is something I am aiming to rinse and repeat to make that the case for every new stage of life/childhood — I’ve read so many books and watched so many videos about different stages of infanthood, so it’s time to move on to toddlerhood content). 

I’ve been moved to question why that is. Of course, while pregnancy and new parenthood has caused me to let go of some of my Type-A tendencies, I’m still a planner at my core; things don’t just fall off my calendar if they’re genuinely important to me, and even with a new set of priorities, I can generally handle time management. I have not found parenthood to completely change who I am as a person — it has just shifted my priorities. I also recognize that I only have (and only plan to have) one child, which is a very different logistical ballgame than multiple kids. 

Another explanation: a husband who is actually good for something. It’s not that we haven’t had moments of difficulty, where one of us has gotten frustrated at the other for not seeing the work we’re putting in. (This has genuinely gone both ways.) But we started off this parenthood journey with, in my opinion, the right foot forward, both with a sense of ownership over our caregiving responsibilities, and both knowing that how we approached parenthood was going to be an ongoing conversation. 

But ultimately, I think it comes down to the same thing that impacts basically every aspect of my lived experience: privilege. For one thing, Peter and I were able to start off as equal parents because we both got the same amount of paid parental leave, well over the average. We were both equally responsible for this baby from the minute she came into the world, which for those first few months constituted me breastfeeding/pumping and him doing basically everything else. For another, not only do we have childcare, we are able to afford a high-quality full-time daycare that I don’t feel guilty leaving my baby at every day. She is all smiles at dropoff, and I get photo proof throughout the day that she’s getting her tummy time, she’s being held and loved on, she’s being read to and changed and fed and rocked to sleep for naptime. It’d certainly be a whole lot harder to leave her if she wasn’t so content with me doing so. I miss her when she’s not here, often spending my lunch breaks scrolling through our Sadie photo album, and I love the time I spend with her more than literally anything else. But I’d be lying if I said I wanted her with me 24/7 — which is why access to childcare in this country needs to be a right, not a privilege. (And I’m proud to live in a city where we’re actually on our way to making that happen.) 

Of course, I’m sure plenty of privileged moms in my position still feel plenty of “mom guilt.” I’m sure the mom guilt will come for me in one way or another. I’ll find taking care of a toddler more taxing than taking care of a baby, something will happen that I didn’t plan for, and I’ll feel so overwhelmed that “I see you struggling mama” memes will suddenly speak as if they were made for me. I’m also sure this feeling guilty over not feeling guilty is yet more evidence that the pressure we place on moms is just setting women up to feel like failures. For now, I’ll try to stay in this place of enjoying the present as much as I can. 

Now that I’m in this new phase of life, I have a lot more thoughts to share: on equitable parenthood, domestic labor, motherhood as an identity (and sometimes as a performance), the realities of budgeting for a kid, etc. But I know this is not what everyone reading this signed up for. If you’re interested in hearing more thoughts on motherhood and caregiving from a uniquely TFD lens, click here to add your name to the list — and stay tuned 🙂

Hello everyone!

In order to stay accountable to and on top of my no-buy challenge for 2026, I’ve decided to provide a weekly update in each Monday newsletter, to keep me honest and provide more space for day-to-day reflections of how this challenge is impacting my life. 

Aside from a few recurring expenses, it looks like I genuinely spent zero dollars on my own card this week — a Nothing-New Year win (and I think a first for me!).

Of course, I live in a two-adult/two-income household, so I knew it wouldn’t be true that we as a household didn’t spend any money this week. Here is a look Peter’s and my combined spending for the month so far, as we have all of our accounts linked on Monarch:

Typically, we put grocery shopping on my card, but Peter has ended up doing all of the shopping without me this month so far. (We used to love grocery shopping together; alas, a baby can turn what was once a cute errand-date into a stress-inducing scavenger hunt.) I’m a little embarrassed to share how much we spend on streaming services — the majority of that is YouTube TV, which admittedly is Peter’s purchase, not mine. It definitely gets used, but it feels like a lot!

Today’s quick update:

♥️Holly

MARCH 17TH: Join Chelsea along with some very special guests for How To Take Political Action 101 TOMORROW NIGHT! — Scrolling social media can leave us feeling angry, frustrated, or powerless—but it doesn’t have to stop there. Our hosts will share expert insights on how to take meaningful political action without feeling overwhelmed. This workshop will show you how to channel your energy into tangible steps, from local and national engagement to effective communication and sustainable involvement. You’ll leave with a practical toolkit for turning concern into real-world impact. This workshop is designed for anyone who wants to move from frustration to action—whether you’re new to political engagement or looking for ways to be more organized and effective. Click here to register

APRIL 8TH: Join us for Your Anti-Overwhelm Approach to Budgeting, a free workshop designed to help you build a budgeting system that actually works for your real life—without stress, guilt, or burnout. Co-hosted by TFD’s Alexa Claire and Rachel Samara, this session will walk you through how to create a simple, sustainable budget that prioritizes stability and clarity over perfection. Whether you’re brand new to budgeting or restarting after false starts, you’ll learn practical ways to reduce money anxiety and finally stick with a system. The workshop includes a one-hour presentation followed by a live audience Q&A.

Note: You must download Monarch using TFD’s link to access the workshop. Register here.

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