Sometimes a single, honest sentence can interrupt the noise and remind us of what truly matters.

A brief clip of a candid moment with the extraordinary comedic actress Catherine O’Hara came across my social media feed. My emotions immediately took the wheel, bringing me to tears.

Question:
“You’ve been in so many legendary roles. When all is said and done, which one role would you most like to be remembered for?”

Catherine O’Hara:
“Mother of my children.”

I’m realizing this is the first time, in a terribly long time, that I experienced such a strong emotional reaction to something on social media that wasn’t shrouded in outrage or frustration. The post of O’Hara was nothing short of beautiful, and I needed to see that, to feel it, to have the relentless stories of chaos, violence, and injustice interrupted, even if only for sixty seconds.

It was pure.
It was love.
It reminded me of the goodness in the world.

O’Hara’s accomplishments are stunning. She is one of those rare human beings whose talent and joyful disposition reached far beyond a narrow geographical space or fragment of time. It’s an extraordinary thing, really, to radiate the kind of energy that comforts, tickles, and uplifts millions… for decades.

And yet, when asked, she didn’t point to an award.
Not films.
Not status.
Not financial achievement.

Her answer, I think, points to a truth I wish were acknowledged with more sincerity and openness. O’Hara’s response revealed the fullness of her character: the impossibility of being reduced to either her career or her motherhood. There is no either/or. These areas of her life were interlaced, each informing the other. Both added depth to the richness of her lived experience.

There exists a persistent and superficial misunderstanding about working mothers; namely, the impulse to shame women who work by saddling them with the flimsy premise that doing so is unnatural, against the order of things, or a failure of devotion to their children. Despite the weakness of these claims, they remain stubbornly present in cultural commentary, often belittling women’s participation in society or blaming feminism for the supposed downfall of the family.

O’Hara’s answer and the grace, warmth, and thoughtfulness with which she delivered it captured a truth many attempt to articulate through academic texts, data-driven research, and reasoned debate. Commentary that dismisses the value of women outside the biological possibility to bear children frames these conversations within a narrow dichotomy. A “side” must be chosen.
Should women work, or should they stay home?

Let’s reframe this and challenge the assumption that there are only two sides. What if we understood women as expanding the scope of their being through work, hobbies, friendships, creativity, and talent as part and parcel of the experience of motherhood (if they so choose)? What if time spent honoring one’s joys and abilities is not a departure from motherhood, but a way of honoring it?

Last semester, my daughter had a day off from school but I did not have the day off from teaching my university courses. I could have moved class to Zoom or canceled altogether. Instead, I brought her with me.

I packed snacks and toys, left early to allow for potential delays, and hoped for the best.

During my seventy-five-minute lecture, my daughter whispered questions in my ear five times, spilled her juice, and announced quite publicly that she needed to poop. Any lingering wonder about whether I could be both a professor and a mom at the exact same time and in the exact same space was laid to rest with a resounding NOPE.

And yet, nothing about that day was a failure.

Nothing about the juggling or extra effort was a negation.

My daughter ran through the open spaces on campus, examined nearly every object in my office, and stocked up on treats at one of the campus stores. She wants to go back. She regularly peppers me with questions about my school and my students.

At the following lecture, I thanked my students. They were there for a reason, one they paid for, and in place of a seamless philosophy lecture, they received fragments, distraction, and a few chuckles. I told them how much it meant to me that they showed up for all of it.

Their presence allowed my little girl to see her mom working. She glimpsed what life at a university looks like. Her worldview expanded because they created space for me to attempt being both a professor and a mother all in one moment.

Maybe they got something out of it too.

Maybe they’ll remember that lecture when they face their own scheduling conflicts. Maybe they’ll become more patient employers when encountering a working parent’s domestic responsibilities. Maybe they’ll believe they can have it all while also understanding that it’s not about playing different “roles,” but about recognizing how effort, love, and intention flow through all areas of life.

Being a professor doesn’t make me less of a mom.
Being a mom doesn’t make me less of a professor.

Both are meaningful expressions of who I am.

Part of me being a good mother (fingers crossed) is doing my work well at the university. I’m whole. I’m energized. I’m intellectually alive. And at the end of the day, I carry that with me when I hug my daughter hello picking her up from school.

Not long ago, my daughter told me she had informed her kindergarten friends that I’m a teacher and that I’m really “good at reading.”

It made me smile.
She was proud.

It doesn’t seem possible, but I fall in love with her more every day. Motherhood has deepened my understanding of care, patience, and how to navigate uncertainty, and that understanding, in turn, brings clarity and compassion to my role at the university.

So this is simply to say: thank you to Catherine O’Hara  for making the world lighter, for cleverly observing what makes life silly, and for embodying a counter-narrative to the notion that women must live within an either/or framework that ultimately serves no one.