Confessions of a working mum.

Coming home to this manager every day made her real job feel like a holiday.

Back when I had a ‘real’ job in an office, I would finish on a Thursday afternoon at 1pm. The receptionist would always farewell me with a hearty ‘Have a great afternoon off.’ Often this would be followed with the lament of ‘I am sooo jealous ….’ or a ‘relax and enjoy your long weekend …. you are sooo lucky.’

In response, I would smile weakly. For little did she know that the moment I walked out of the building, the most relaxing part of my week was over. No longer would I be able to sip coffee, read an article on the Internet, or partake in idle office chit chat as I went about my duties.

I had another job to go to where the boss was a real slavedriver who permitted no such indulgences.

Furthermore, this boss seemed to disagree with all my suggestions, continually come up with ridiculous ideas and deemed it appropriate to conduct company business in a Rapunzel costume. She also persisted in calling me ‘Mummy.’ And staring down the barrel of another so-called ‘long weekend;’ it made my part-time office job, and all other jobs preceding it, an absolute walk in the park.

With a picnic.

I no longer have that ‘real’ job in an office. After more than a decade of corporate life, my home is my office now. I am still a corporate slave, working for the man, but now my three-year old daughter is my manager and boy do her managerial skills need some work.

Now I love the heck out of her and being a mummy, but she is the Worst Manager in the World.

In my former working life, if any constructive feedback was required, it was delivered tactfully. For example, ‘Could you please get this report out by 10am next time? The production team need it before their morning tea break. Thanks. You are doing a great job.’

The Worst Manager in World possesses no such tact. From the heinous, ‘You forgot to give me dessert tonight!’ to the more shameful ‘You forgot to do my seatbelts up!’ (yikes), the Worst Manager in the World is very quick to focus on the negative aspects of my performance.

After years of keeping up with the competing demands of various clients and shareholders, I cannot keep up with the ‘right’ way that toast should be cut (that day). ‘Triangles! No! I want squares! No! I want rectangles! No! Squares AND rectangles! No! Circles.’ And with each mind-change, the requests get louder and louder until I am half-deaf as well as half a loaf of bread down.

Then in true Worst Manager-style it is decreed that we aren’t eating toast anymore unless it can be made into a love-heart shape. If this was a real job in a real office I probably would have walked out. I try not to think of this as I nibble toast into love-heart shapes.

In my professional life, with the aid of Microsoft Help or Google, there was really no problem that I couldn’t fix and no question I couldn’t find an answer to. But the Worst Manager in the World wants to know ‘Why is wood?’ I tell her that wood comes from trees. But she informs me that she already knows that and what she wants to know is ‘why is wood? ’In no other job or situation in my life have I been faced with such existential musings before 8am. Even Google can’t get me out of this one.

So yes, in many ways my office job was a cakewalk compared to being a stay-at-home mum. The demands of looking after a three-year-old full time are ridiculous and exhausting. The coffees, adult conversation and toilet breaks sans audience of my former life are certainly missed.

But, in any job I’ve ever had before, I’ve simply done my work and done it well, but in this role, I have created a masterpiece. I have created a little person who wants to know why is wood and has formed some very firm opinions about toast-cutting and various other matters.

I now know I will never find another occupation or pursuit that challenges and tests me on so many levels as simply hanging out with this little person every day.

In recent times our ‘company’ has undergone a restructure where my duties have just increased ten-fold.

We have taken on a new Assistant Manager. At 8-weeks-old, he is learning the ropes quickly and will be giving the Worst Manager in the World a run for her money very soon.

What were the difference in your life when you became a working mum?

This article was originally published on Playdate Australia and has been republished here with full permission.

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