I recently agreed to join a “work-life balance” podcast and received a list of preparatory questions, the first of which—“What percentage of your life is work compared to parenting?”—immediately flummoxed me. Because all of it is work, isn’t it? I don’t mean to sound martyr-like—I’ve always loved work, both the home and the paid kind (not every minute of it, obviously, but the invincible feeling of good days, which galvanise against the inevitable incapable/irritated/hungover ones)—but the unequivocal fact that parenting is working and working is parenting somehow goes unreported. I’ve always been irked by the phrase “working mother” versus whatever the opposite is, because parenting is as mind-bendingly complicated as it is wonderful. Think of the energy that goes into teaching children how to relax without numbing out in front of a screen these days—intelligent parenting is as critically important as anything that happens in any workplace, and can feel just as arduous. And never does this truth feel more acute than over Christmas.
Interviewing more than 200 parents for my book, Leaving The Ladder Down, I discovered a spectrum of strategies to handle holidays when you’re a professionally employed parent. Some women are painstakingly organised; experience convincing them that buying presents months in advance is the only way to enjoy it (and avoid last-minute panics, which invariably amplify cost). In his Desert Island Discs interview, Tim Berners-Lee spoke of the annual “year-clocks” his mother produced, featuring 365 sections covering his family’s every move. Other mothers resent the agonies of preparation and expense that holidays demand, and some of us wing it in a state of by-the-seat-of-our-pants hope.
Personally, I’m a mixture of all the above, depending on the day. I’ve had all the presents wrapped by December 1st; I’ve furiously ignored modern “traditions” (whoever is responsible for Elf on the Shelf should hope to never meet me IRL); and I’m perhaps most guilty of driving myself mad by trying to make everything “perfect”, despite nobody demanding any of the details I tie myself in circles over trying to get right (such as matching outfits my children don’t even remember). But every time they go back to school, I look back on the finely tuned merry dance I have just achieved—a delicately balanced, potentially chaotic construct of playdates, activities and babysitters—and wonder how on earth I did it. Well done, me. Here are a few things I’ve learnt along the way and some tips from some of the 200 women I interviewed for my book.
The author and her daughter in matching Christmas outfits by British designer Rachel Riley.
(Image credit: Dolly Jones)
1. Celebrate the wins
I’m loathe to be prescriptive because it’s illogical, since one person’s fail-safe can so easily feel like someone else’s failure, but self-congratulation is essential if we are to survive—or, better still, thrive—this holiday season. Consider even the most mundane aspects an achievement, no win is too boring to celebrate when they build towards the joyful bigger picture you’re working so hard to create. So applaud yourself at every turn. When a job feels mind-numbingly dull but essential, I mentally tot up how much I’d have to pay somebody else to do it and give myself an imaginary Christmas bonus. It’s remarkably effective as silent self-validation.
2. Replace shame with triumph
Shame so easily muscles in on our parenting experience. You can feel guilty for doing too much (again: see matching outfits) or not enough, depending upon how much sleep you’ve had or what you’ve just seen on Instagram, and it can eat you up inside when you should just be tucking into panettone. Don’t let it win; it helps nobody. You are doing two jobs at once; you are therefore superhuman and deserve all the Christmas cheers.
Dolly Jones and her children wear matching outfits while tidying up some of that “Christmas cheer”.
(Image credit: Dolly Jones)
3. Accept help
Some women go hard on who-does-what; advance-planning meetings with their co-parent ahead of silly season, but time and again observe their meticulous 50–50 plan morphing into Mummy-doing-it-all. It’s key (but also time-consuming) to talk through the implications of every job—in terms of both emotional and physical labour—with whomever you’re attempting to share the load. In his Be A Happier Parent podcast, Alex Trippier explores standard domestic arguments and discovers that they’re often a symptom of simply not understanding the ramifications of every job which, once unearthed, make joyful collaboration far more likely. If formal delegation is too much of a stress, remember that people enjoy helping. The control freak in me wants everybody to stand aside while I swan about getting everything right, but the truth is that a team game means everybody enjoys themselves instead of eggshelling around me as my tension rises. Plus, someone else can then take the blame if the roast potatoes aren’t the right type of crispy.
4. Write a resignation letter—but don’t send it
There are plenty of practical ideas about how to make life easier on yourself as a working parent—freeing you up to enjoy the experience more—one of my favourites came from a private equity executive and mother of three: “I have a number of resignation emails in my draft folder because there have been times I wanted to jack it in, but I’ve never been pushed to the point of actually sending one. Typing one makes me feel oddly better: [it] reminds me I’m in control of it all, really. I never type anything in the address field; they just sit in my draft items alongside the Christmas lists and various other helpful things.”
5. Admit that it is ok to do less
Sometimes it really does come down to doing less. I was whingeing about time poverty to my friend Susie before Christmas one year, and she told me—as only a girlfriend who’s known you since before training bras can—that I was being neurotic. “You have two primary-school-aged children at home, and it’s almost Christmas,” she said. “If you still worked in an office, you’d have booked this time off. Maybe apply the same logic?” So I put the laptop down for the holidays and picked it up again afterwards with more enthusiasm than I’d had for weeks.
6. Be realistic about what you actually want
Don’t go to the party you’re dreading. This year, I’m recovering from surgery, which has forced me to go easy on myself and means I’m only going to parties I’m genuinely looking forward to, forfeiting others for a present-wrapping sesh with a Christmas-scented candle and Netflix. It’s allowed me to get more work done, rest more, and see the people who really make me feel good.
7. Reframe your thinking
Journalist Kate Reardon reminds herself that she “gets” to go to work, rather than “having to go”—“rather like getting to go to the dentist rather than having to go, because wouldn’t life be shit if you couldn’t go to the dentist.” It’s a helpful way to remember why you’re doing everything you do, and why some things should fall by the wayside. Putting yourself first is as much a gift to your children as it is to yourself, too, since it means you’re nicer to them. “I learned to reframe these things to understand there’s a downstream benefit to my kids,” adds entrepreneur and investor Leila Zegna.
Leaving the Ladder Down: How to Combine Career and Motherhood, from the Women Who’ve Done it by Dolly Jones is published by 4th Estate, out now.