You're raising your kids on the farm and wondering if you're ruining them

You're standing in the field, phone in one hand, trying to answer a customer while your toddler screams from the pack on your back.

Or you're lying in bed replaying the moment you chose the tomatoes over the tea party. The irrigation over the homework help. The market prep over the movie night.

And you're wondering: Am I ruining them?

The dream vs. the reality

You had a vision.

Kids running barefoot through rows of vegetables. Little hands collecting eggs. Family dinners with food you grew together. A childhood rooted in the land, in real work, in something meaningful.

And some days, it looks like that. The golden hour photos. The proud moment when they identify a weed without being told. The way they talk to customers at market like tiny professionals.

But other days?

Other days it's screen time so you can finish planting. It's frozen pizza because you're too tired to cook the food you grew. It's "not right now, mama's working" for the hundredth time.

Other days the dream feels like a lie you told yourself.

The guilt that lives in both directions

Here's the thing about being a farm mom:

• You feel guilty when you're farming because you're not with your kids.

• You feel guilty when you're with your kids because you're not farming.

There's no winning. The guilt just follows you from the field to the house and back again.

You watch other moms (the ones with office jobs and weekends off) and you wonder if your kids are getting the short end of the stick.

You watch other farmers (the ones without kids, or with kids who are grown) and you wonder how they get so much done.

You're failing at both. Or at least that's what it feels like.

What your kids actually see

I want to tell you something, and I need you to really hear it.

Your kids are not seeing what you're seeing.

You see: the snapping, the distraction, the missed moments.

They see: a parent who works hard, who builds things, who doesn't give up.

You see: the frozen pizza and the screen time.

They see: someone who feeds other families. Someone who matters to the community.

You see: all the ways you're falling short.

They see: you. Trying. Every single day.

Kids don't need perfect. They need present. And "present" doesn't mean available every second. It means connected, even in the chaos.

The impossible math of farm motherhood

There are only so many hours. And the math doesn't work.

The farm needs 60 hours. The kids need 60 hours. Your body needs sleep. Your marriage needs attention. Your brain needs rest.

Something has to give. Every single day, something has to give.

And you're the one doing the math. You're the one deciding what gets sacrificed today.

That's exhausting. Not just physically. Emotionally. The constant triage. The constant choosing.

No one tells you that farming with kids isn't just harder because of the labor. It's harder because of the decisions. The endless, invisible decisions about who gets your attention right now.

You're not the only one

I've coached a lot of farm moms. And I want you to know: you are not the only one crying in the barn (or walk-in, or cooler room, or behind the haystack, or van on the way to deliveries, or the bathroom - trust me, the “safe-for-a-quick cry” spaces on the farm are a secret to you. But not me).

You're not the only one who's wondered if you should just quit (the farm or the parenting, you're not sure which. They both feel impossible).

You're not the only one who's Googled "farm mom burnout" at midnight, hoping someone out there understands.

Someone does. I do. (I mean you found this article right?)

This is brutally hard. And the fact that you're still doing it doesn't mean you're failing. It means you're fighting for something that matters to you.

Both things are true

You're giving your kids something rare and valuable. Connection to land, to food, to real work.

AND

You're stretched too thin and some days they get the worst of you.

Both things are true. At the same time.

You're not ruining them. You're raising them. In the middle of something hard. With imperfect resources and impossible demands.

That's not failure. That's just parenting on a farm.

What would help

I'm not going to tell you to "give yourself grace" and leave it at that. That's not enough.

Here's what actually helps:

Lower the bar. Not forever. Just for this season. The house can be messy. The meals can be simple. The farm can be a little less perfect. Your kids will not remember a spotless kitchen. They'll remember whether you were okay.

Stop comparing. Your farm life doesn't look like office-job motherhood. It's not supposed to. And those Instagram farm families? They're struggling too. You just don't see it. (I do, I work with them too)

Find your people. Other farm moms who get it. Who won't judge the screen time or the shortcuts. Who will laugh with you about the chaos instead of making you feel worse.

Ask for help before you're drowning. A mother's helper. A teenager who wants to learn. A trade with another farm family. You don't get extra points for doing it all alone.

Forgive yourself faster. You snapped. You missed the thing. You chose the farm over the kid (again). Okay. That happened. Now let it go. Carrying the guilt doesn't help anyone. Least of all your kids.

The invitation

You're raising your kids on the farm. And some days you're sure you're giving them the best childhood imaginable. Other days you wonder if you're ruining them.

Both feelings are real. Neither one is the whole truth.

Your kids don't need a perfect mom. They need a real one. One who's trying, who's building something, who loves them even when she's exhausted.

That's you.

You're not ruining them. You're raising them. And that's the hardest, most important work there is.

You're doing a good job. Even on the days it doesn't feel like it.

If this resonated, you might also want to read:

You're running on fumes and calling it dedication — When exhaustion becomes your normal

You're the strong one and you're exhausted by it — What happens when you need someone to carry you for once

The mindset that separates thriving farms from struggling ones — Building something sustainable instead of just surviving

Hey mama! You're doing a good job. Even when you're “failing at everything”.

If you need support navigating farm motherhood without losing yourself, I'm here. You can schedule a free chat with me anytime at FarmCoachKatia.com/work-with-me.