My truth about being a working mum in a marketing agency
I’m ashamed to say that when I was starting out in my career, I had very little empathy for working parents.
Aged 22, when my colleagues left early to collect ‘Tiddles’ or set loud phone alarms to remind them to leave for nursery pick-up, all I thought was, “Oh cheers… what screamer might I be landed with before home time?!”
What I only understand now is that there is very little alternative most of the time. And those loud alarms… they weren’t for the parents. They knew exactly when they had to leave. They were for me and everyone else at work. A loud, unignorable alert aimed at reducing the awkward “I really need to go now” statement that had to be uttered daily before an apologetic creep to the door.
I wish so much I could go back to those days and say something a lot more supportive, empathetic and encouraging, like, “Go now. You’re doing your best. I’ve got you. Let’s catch up tomorrow.”
(Sarah, if you’re reading this, I’m really sorry.)
I hope I wasn’t quite as rubbish as I’m thinking I was, but I know for sure I could have been a lot better.
Thankfully, 438 has always been a really flexible place to work, with and without kids. People wiser than 22-year-old me made it so. Long before Covid hit, and way before I was in my current role, we were all reassured that life mattered. I always knew I could go to that doctor’s appointment and that if I was ever lucky enough to have kids, sports day and the nativity would come before any pitch, any trip or any meeting. No questions asked.
Our flexibility has always been built on fairness and trust, and it’s serving us well so far. With the empathy and maturity I didn’t have before, and now in a senior role within the agency, I have made it a personal mission to make sure we are a place where a balanced life as a human, not just as a parent, is possible. I also want to keep learning and evolving as a colleague and employer so we become even better all the time, because it benefits us all.
Please do not mistake this for an article about how perfect life as a working parent is. Even at a progressive place like 438, honestly, it’s a head fuck where I flip flop between “I hope my kids are inspired by my ambition and hard work” and “I hope my kids don’t hate me for working so much.”
But here are some of my truths that might help someone else feel less alone in this crazy world.
Busy me gets the most done
On the days I have a double drop-off, with packed lunches, swimming kit and homework sorted before I get to a jam packed day at work, I seem to achieve more. Maybe it’s because my brain is firing on all cylinders from daybreak and knows I have no choice except to crack on.
Some days it is quite unbelievable what happens in the time between waking up and starting work at nineish. Parents live a whole life before the working day begins. One morning recently, my kids painted their feet with black paint and ran around the kitchen while I was in the shower. Happy memories I will have forever, mainly because there is one stubborn footprint I cannot seem to get rid of. Cheers, lads.
My children don’t care what I do
They care if they can raid the snacks in the office, take home wedges of paper from the printer, if I borrow a monster truck, thanks Isuzu, and if I can get them digger merch from the JCB shop when we go on a client visit.
They do not care if I did not land that project. They do not care if I did either. They are the perfect escape when I am feeling the pressure because ultimately I know these little people are not judging me the way I am judging myself.
They say it takes a village. I need a town
I am not too proud to say I absolutely could not do my job in this industry without loads of people helping me. I salute those who can, but my week relies on my mum, in-laws, mates, sisters, Lego clubs, after-school clubs, colleagues who do not mind entertaining them for an hour, and a very patient partner.
I tell myself all this variety makes the boys well rounded. They tell me they like the food at after-school club more than mine anyway. Cheers again, lads.
Side note. The UK childcare system is not set up for success. My pal pays less than five euros a day for childcare in France, which makes five days of flexible care possible if she needs it. When my youngest was at nursery, I paid £79 a day with a hard stop at six. There was no flexibility to swap days and no money off for bank holidays. The maths does not add up. Without the town, I would be screwed.
Everything is possible, provided you don’t like sleeping or resting
All too often, to make life work as a working mum, it means logging on when the quiet sets in during the evening to get done what you need to do. I have just got used to this reality now and work to a personal policy. If I do not have to, I will not do it. But if I have to, I just have to.
People outside this world often ask, “Why can’t you just put it down?” If you are in this world, you know that is rarely an option. Client deadlines wait for no one.
By the way, I know I am not a brain surgeon. Mine is not a ‘real’ job and I am not looking for applause or sympathy. I chose this career.
This is not about making busyness a badge of honour. It is just my truth. I do one hundred percent condone rest. I just do not get enough of it.
And finally…
Mushy Weetabix dries more solid and sharp than any industrial building material.
Leave it at your peril. If you want to work from your kitchen table, you have got to wipe it down as soon as the spillage happens. Save your elbows.
If you are reading this, about to embark on parenthood and or a career in marketing, please know it is fun but hard, rewarding but exhausting and absolutely anything but boring.
Feel free to reach out if you want an honest, empathetic chat.
Helenka