How to build your working parent wolf pack

Every working parent has that one thing keeping them from completely losing it. Some have the Mary Poppins-like nanny who knows exactly when to show up with wet wipes and organic muffins. Others swear by meal kits, color-coded Google calendars, or chore charts their family actually follows (unicorn families, basically).

For me? It’s a group text.

Not glamorous, not particularly organized, but it’s my lifeline. This is where playdates get arranged, last-minute pickup emergencies get solved, and critical intel on the latest stomach bug gets dropped. It’s also where I can admit, “I fed my kids popcorn and blueberries for dinner,” and instead of side-eye, I get heart emojis and another parent confessing, “Mine ate Oreos in the car.”

This is my working parent wolf pack. And trust me, you need one too.

Because let’s be honest: Working and parenting at the same time is basically like walking a tightrope in a thunderstorm while your boss Slacks you and your kid’s soccer coach emails the snack schedule. A wolf pack is the net below, ready to catch you with help, empathy, or at least a well-timed meme.

Here’s where mine shows up most:

• Carpools. Knowing that Saturday’s trip to the trampoline park is someone else’s problem. Bliss.
• Emergency coverage. The meeting runs late, your kid spikes a 103 fever, or your train gets stuck underground. This is when your wolf pack jumps in.
• Mental health. Sometimes you just text, “If my child sings the Bluey theme song one more time, I’m moving out.” They don’t call CPS. They send solidarity GIFs.
• Camaraderie. Nothing heals like someone typing “Same.”

Start small

So how do you build one? Start with one or two parents you trust and add as you go. Look for people who are reliable, unpretentious, and living at the same chaos level as you (no judgment, but the mom with an in-house chef and a driver may not be your best emergency contact). You don’t need soulmates, but you need people who won’t flinch when you ask for help, and who understand that reciprocity isn’t tit for tat. You’ll return the favor, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. The unspoken agreement is simple: we’re all drowning, so sometimes we pass the life vest.

At the end of the day, my wolf pack isn’t just about logistics. It’s about laughing together at 11 p.m. while rage-scrolling the 19-page school newsletter. It’s about knowing I’m not the only one who missed the “bring a pilgrim costume” email. It’s about being seen through the exhaustion, the chaos, and the love that keeps us showing up.

Think of it less as a group text and more as a lifeboat, a comedy club, and a survival kit rolled into one. Every working parent deserves that kind of pack.

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