Small Business Is Just Parenting With Calendar Invites
I was having a conversation this week with wonderful and wildly generous fellow entrepreneur and we were laughing about how much running a small service business feels like being a mom. The more I sat with it, the more it felt true that both having a small business and motherhood ask many of the same things of us.
To have a plan in the morning and be ready for it to change by the afternoon.
To show up again and again, even when the outcome looks VERY different than what we pictured, planned for, or expected.
To have a clear vision and eye to the future whilst being able to flow with the day to day.
Sound familiar?
I realised that the events, the coaching, the community building I’ve been doing with Compassionote all keep circling the same three things:
Connection.
It’s the lifeblood of my relationship with my kids and with my clients. It is feeling seen and heard. It is being known and feeling like you aren’t alone.
Self-Reflection.
I can’t just blindly set a parenting/business strategy, hit “go.” and walk away. It’s not an Instapot. Not with kids, and not with my work. I have to keep asking: Does this still make sense? What do I/my family/my business need right now? When I answer honestly, I can adjust course.
Imperfection.
I don’t have all the answers and I make plenty of mistakes. But that is just proof that I am human, and I can keep showing up, again and again, to build a business and a life that I actually want to live.
But what about real life?
Maybe you’re thinking: This is all well and good, but how does it help me when my kid is screaming, I’m seething at my partner, the to-do list is endless, and mom rage is bubbling over? Oh, and I still have to cook dinner, book the holiday and create that client workbook?
Here’s how:
Connection reminds you that your child isn’t your enemy. Beneath the screaming is a need. Beneath your resentment is a longing to be supported. When you can reconnect to them and to yourself, the fight softens.
Self-Reflection gives you the pause button. It lets you ask: “What’s actually happening here? Not what I’m reacting to, or what’s in front of me…but what’s underneath?” That tiny bit of honesty can shift the entire moment.
Imperfection frees you from the pressure to fix it all flawlessly. You don’t need the perfect script or solution. You just need to show up, even clumsily, and try again tomorrow.
It doesn’t make the mess disappear, but it does mean you’re not drowning in it.
That’s the framework I keep returning to. And it’s what helps me stay steady, even when the spaghetti gets rejected (they wanted penne) or the booking turns into a no-show (they didn’t get the day right).