Working Mums Should Be Smashing Plates, Not Keeping Them Spinning
This story is part of Black Ballad’s takeover of HuffPost UK, a week-long series by Black women on parenting, family, and our post-Covid future.
It’s a cliché, I know, but when I think of work-life balance, I think of a performer spinning plates. The performer manages to get the plates on their sticks spinning in unison, then never takes their eyes off them – constantly evaluating which one might fall, which one is doing OK. They never look away from the plates, they never relax, never rest. Their eyes and body constantly move from one potential smash to the next.
It’s me. I’m the performer. And the plates are my responsibilities.
Before the pandemic, I was on maternity leave. My eldest had afternoons in preschool and I was at home with a five-month-old in a breastfeeding bubble of coffee and catch-ups with other mums or nursery-rhyme-singing baby clubs. I’d be returning to work earlier than planned, but with reduced hours for the next six months and from the privileged position of working from home. Life was rhythmical and reasonably predictable. Just how I liked it.
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Then along came ’Rona, forcing its way into our lives and forcing the doors of our home shut. Initially, things were good. Like most well-meaning parents, I created a colour-coded timetable that included arts and crafts, baking and PE with Joe. I revelled in how much time we were getting to spend as a family, how my husband and I no longer had to pretend we enjoyed going out, and how we were creating beautiful memories.
And then my persistent friend, anxiety, came to join the party.
At first, it made itself known quietly, whispering concerns about screen-time or how bored the three-year-old was starting to look. Then the voice became louder and more consistent: “Will a three-year-old with already delayed...
