Work Doesn’t Stop Just Because You Travel

I just got back from a three-day work trip to Maryland, and genuinely, it was fun.

I got to celebrate our Maryland team’s 30th anniversary, spend time with coworkers I don’t get to see every day and actually be present for something we had spent months planning.

Those are the parts of work travel people see.

The event. The dinner. The pictures. The overpriced airport drink you somehow convince yourself is completely reasonable at 12 p.m. The occasional moment where you think, Okay, this is actually pretty cool that this is part of my job.

And it is.

But work travel is also a weird little pause button that doesn’t actually pause anything.

Because while you’re traveling for work… work is still happening.

The emails keep coming. Projects keep moving. People still need answers. Meetings get pushed to next week. Your regular to-do list doesn’t disappear because you’re working from an airport, hotel room or event venue.

It just waits for you.

And when you get home, there it is.

The Work Before the Work Trip

I travel about one or two times a quarter for work. It’s not constant, but it’s enough that I’ve learned something:

A three-day trip is never really just three days.

There’s the work you do before you leave because you know you’ll be unavailable.

The projects you try to wrap up. The meetings you move. The emails you answer. The things you hand off. The things you tell yourself you’ll just handle from the airport.

And then there’s the work before the work trip that has absolutely nothing to do with work.

The laundry.

The packing.

The grocery shopping.

The meal prepping.

Making sure my daughter has everything she needs. Making sure there’s food at home. Making sure clothes are clean. Making sure the things we use every day are stocked and ready.

Basically, preparing my family for my absence while simultaneously preparing myself to leave.

And yes, my husband is a fully capable adult.

Honestly, he probably has more of a motherly bone than I do.

He does not need me to leave behind a survival guide and seven pre-portioned meals like I’m going off to sea for six months.

But does that stop me?

Absolutely not.

Because somewhere in my brain, before I can get on that plane, I need to know that everything at home is ready to go.

Then, after getting everyone else situated, I remember:

Oh yeah. I also have to pack for myself.

And not just pack.

Work-trip pack.

What am I wearing to the event? Do I need heels? A blazer? What am I wearing during the day? Did I pack my charger? My laptop? Makeup? Toiletries? Something comfortable for the airport?

Suddenly, a three-day trip has required several days of preparation before I’ve even left my driveway.

And that’s before we even get to the actual reason I’m traveling … which, in my case, is usually work that matters.

Being there to celebrate 30 years of impact mattered.

Showing up for our team mattered.

Getting out from behind Teams calls and emails and actually spending time with the people doing this work mattered.

I wouldn’t trade that.

But neither your professional life nor your personal life magically clears its calendar because you have a boarding pass.

And Then There’s the Mom Guilt

Work travel feels completely different now that I’m a mom.

Before having my daughter, leaving for three days was mostly about figuring out what to pack and making sure I got to the airport on time.

Now?

There’s guilt.

And I know the guilt doesn’t necessarily make sense.

I feel guilty leaving my daughter. I feel guilty leaving my husband to handle everything at home by himself. I feel guilty when I miss bedtime. I feel guilty when I’m out having a genuinely good time at a work event while they’re at home doing the normal dinner-bath-bed routine.

Which is particularly ridiculous because, as previously established, my husband probably has more of a motherly bone than I do.

Seriously. She’s fine.

He knows the routine. He knows what she needs. He is an incredible dad. I don’t leave town worried that he can’t handle it.

Yet somehow, the guilt still shows up.

And maybe that’s the weirdest part.

It’s not guilt because I think I’m doing something wrong.

It’s guilt because I know what I’m missing.

I’m missing a few bedtimes. A few mornings. The random little things she does that make us laugh.

I’m temporarily stepping out of this life we’ve built at home to step fully into another part of myself.

The professional part.

And I really like that part of myself, too.

I like traveling for my career. I like getting to experience new places. I like being in the room with my team instead of always being on a screen. I like getting dressed up for an event and celebrating something we worked hard on.

And then I’ll call home and immediately want to reach through the phone and squeeze my daughter.

Both can be true.

I can love my career and miss my family.

I can be having an amazing time and wish they were there.

I can feel guilty about leaving and still know that going was the right decision.

Maybe that’s just another part of the work between.

Coming Home Doesn’t Mean Catching Up

Then you land.

You unpack.

Or, if you’re me, you strategically leave the suitcase somewhere you’ll eventually be forced to deal with it.

You hug your family.

You get back into the routine.

And then you look at everything else that kept moving while you were gone.

Your inbox is waiting.

The projects you temporarily pushed aside are waiting.

The meetings you rescheduled are now happening.

The Slack messages from the board you’re on have been piling up. There are board items you need to get caught up on and conversations you need to jump back into.

Because apparently I enjoy having hobbies that also come with agendas, action items and Slack notifications.

And then, almost immediately after getting home, I’m heading straight into a volunteer event for the Houston Rodeo.

Because why ease back into normal life when you can just launch yourself directly into it?

But here’s the thing: I chose those commitments, too.

I serve on a board because I care about being involved in my professional community.

I volunteer because being part of something bigger than my day-to-day job matters to me.

I don’t want to give those things up.

But they don’t pause when I travel either.

Neither does motherhood.

Neither does marriage.

Neither does the laundry.

Neither does the grocery list.

Neither does work.

That’s the part of work travel we don’t talk about as much.

Travel doesn’t necessarily replace your normal workload.

Sometimes, it gets added on top of it.

So now you’re catching up on the work you couldn’t do while you were busy… doing work.

You’re catching up on the Slack messages you couldn’t answer.

You’re catching up on the board work you couldn’t get to.

You’re jumping back into volunteering.

And at home, you’re catching up there too.

The laundry somehow exists again.

The refrigerator needs restocking again.

Your kid’s routine has continued without you.

And after spending several days being fully “on” professionally, you come home wanting to be fully “on” as a mom, wife, board member, volunteer and everything else too.

There isn’t really a transition day.

You just… come home and jump back in.

Oh, and then it’s Saturday.

And you’re headed to the water park with your family.

Because your daughter doesn’t care that you spent the week traveling for work.

She doesn’t care how many emails are sitting in your inbox, how many Slack messages you still haven’t read or whether your suitcase is still sitting half-unpacked on the floor.

She just knows it’s Saturday.

And we’re going to the water park.

So you put on the swimsuit, pack the snacks, grab the sunscreen and go.

And maybe that’s actually the best kind of reset.

Not catching up.

Not getting ahead.

Just being there.

Because I missed her.

And as much as part of me wants one day to sit on the couch and do absolutely nothing, another part of me doesn’t want to miss another day.

But I’d Still Go

And that’s the funny thing.

I’d still go.

Because some moments deserve more than an email, a Teams call or a congratulatory post.

Sometimes leadership means showing up.

Sometimes communications means actually being there for the moment you’re communicating about.

Sometimes work is sitting behind a laptop.

And sometimes it’s getting on a plane to celebrate the people behind the work.

The trick is accepting that when you choose to be fully present for one thing, something else might have to wait.

The inbox will still be there.

The Slack messages will still be there.

The projects will still need attention.

The volunteer commitments will still be on the calendar.

The suitcase will eventually need to be unpacked.

But for three days, I got to celebrate 30 years of people doing meaningful work.

And that’s worth having a little catching up to do.

Because work doesn’t stop just because you travel.

Life doesn’t either.

And somewhere between the meal prep, the packing, the airport, the inbox, the FaceTime calls, the Slack notifications, the hotel room, the volunteer commitments, the water park and finally walking back through your front door, you’re figuring out how to make room for all of it.

All the moments in between.

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