Penni Drysdale - P Plate Parenting

We haven’t really spoken before, in the six or so years that we’ve been living here. She’s the lady a few doors down on the opposite side of the road with the push mower that seems to never stop. Yet last week she stopped to say hello as the School Boy and I weeded the front lawn (an activity to keep him out of trouble indoors, rather than an obsession with perfection).

Our conversation was a breath of fresh air. I’ve always known that I’m not alone, but it’s not often that the words are aerated and given free reign. Powerful words shared between mothers who could otherwise tuck the thoughts away in a secret compartment, never to see the light of day. “I’m just not designed to be a stay-at-home mum.” Ahhh. “Me neither! Me neither!” I squealed, inwardly, aware of the keen kiddy ears only a few steps away. My eyes lit up as I recognised a fellow mum who worked, not because she absolutely had to, or because she adored her job, but because she knew that she wasn’t designed to stay home full-time with her child.

It doesn’t mean we love our children any less than stay-at-home mums. It doesn’t mean that we weren’t designed to be mothers. And it certainly doesn’t mean that work is more important than family (though it sure pays better). It’s just the realisation that comes with allowing myself to be who I am, not who I think I should be or who I think others think I should be. It’s a free pass out of the jail of guilt that comes with handing your kids over to someone else for a day or three. I’m just not designed to be a stay-at-home mum. What a brilliant thing fresh air is.

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I would just die if anyone found out that this post was inspired by some Dr Phil viewing, so I won’t tell you. So, yeah, I was watching some show recently and they were discussing the issue of working mums versus stay at home mums. It got me doing some more reflecting and this is the result.

I assumed that, after working full time for what felt like too many years (but was really not many at all!) I was more than ready for any excuse to stay at home. What I didn’t anticipate was the struggle that I would face in doing so. Expectations of leisurely days, a darling baby and domestic bliss were shattered by about week 12, when I had my first evil thought about returning to work. Evil, because: 1. it wasn’t in the plan to return to work until at least 9 months (and plans are EVERYTHING to a control freak) 2. I had made a conscious decision to become a mum, so I was not only obliged to stay home with the thing, but supposed to find it the most rewarding and enjoyable time of my life, yeah? Oops.

The novelty of having a baby, becoming a mum and not having to go to ‘work’ had begun to wear off. I began to lose motivation, confidence and brain cells. I needed (not just wanted – that’s an important distinction) to exercise my mind, have adult conversations, have an excuse to get out of trackies and put some makeup on. Like many sibling relationships, I needed space to create opportunity for our relationship to flourish. I needed to know that the pre-baby me still existed in there somewhere – the one who could speak well to groups of people, make others smile, help people in need of help, be acknowledged for a job well done and earn my keep.

When my Big Boy was 6 months old I returned to work one day a week, wracked by feelings of guilt and failure. I had failed to survive life at home with a baby and failed to experience the bliss of new mummyhood. I felt incredibly guilty about returning to work so soon and leaving my baby in the care of someone else, but I knew that I just couldn’t be the loving, caring, present mother that I wanted to be if I continued to stay at home ‘full time’ with my baby.

What that one day a week did for me was to begin to restore my sense of self and give me a greater appreciation of my family – quality time, not quantity (and for the record, that’s still how I function best, especially with a crazy 4 year old). Second time around I have been much wiser, looking out for myself and responding to my needs, because I know the consequences of ignoring those needs, for my mental health and the health of our relationships at home. I know that I am the best mummy when I am happy and satisfied and if that means having someone else mind my kids for me sometimes, then that’s just how it is.

So, stay at home or return to work? I’m not a huge fan of giving advice to expectant or new parents, but if I was to dish some out, it would be this: Honour who you are. Be truthful to yourself despite what you think you should be doing or feeling because you are the one who has to live with your choices. The consequences of being guided by expectations (whether they are yours or those of others) are not worth it.

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