A portfolio career: why it’s the only choice for working mums

image courtesy of http://streetphoto.com

I’ve left and gone back to work at least 3 times in the past few years. It’s not so much that I don’t know what I want, more that that kind of work just doesn’t quite do it for me anymore.  I mean I like working, I’m much happier working and am in no way a voluntary stay at home mum.  So I keep going back to work, hoping to find something different.  Maybe to find that I’M different.  But I don’t. The corporate life just doesn’t seem to “fit” anymore.

And then someone mentioned the idea of a “portfolio career”.  I quickly googled it “A tapestry or a variety of eclectic employment experiences that when combined are the equivalent of a full-time position”.  Hmmm, interesting.  I read on. “Portfolio careers offer more flexibility, variety, and freedom..” mmm sounds good “but also require organizational skills as well as risk tolerance.” Organisation skills – check, I’m the professional equivalent of a one-man band. Risk tolerance?  Heck, my mum just died so I, more than most know the value of grabbing life by the short and curlies. Check, check and double-check.  

“Portfolio careers are usually built around a collection of skills and interests”.  Bingo. Just like my mum I thrive on being busy and am never happy unless I’m doing 3,4,5 things at once. I’m rubbish at focussing on one thing at a time without getting bored / distracted / impatient. Plus, it’s not like we’re talking about anything very new, us mums have been doing this kind of thing for ages. And now you can get paid for it? Huzzah!

So I was sold.  I think the thing is that once you’ve been out of work for any period of time, you realise that the typical 9-5 doesn’t have to be the only way. When you’re in the midst of it, it feels like a given. It’s what people do, it’s what YOU do. Only when you take time off, for maternity leave or some other significant life event, and you’re away from the confines of an office during those missing daytime hours, do you start to notice there’s a whole other world out there.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than aware just how fortunate I am.  For many, work is an obligation not a choice. Liking it or being fulfilled by it doesn’t mean jack. So lucky? Yes of course.  I’d still rather have my mum.  But if losing her means I have this chance to do something that fits me better, that gives us a better balance in our family life, well I reckon my mum would have been made up.

And if you want to know what the portfolio looks like, and how its risk/reward ratio stacks up? Well, you’ll just have to wait and see.

What was i thinking?

Many of you will be aware that I went back to work recently. Well, i’m working a contract, but hopefully there’ll be more where that came from. You see, I’d been off work for over 2 years. I’d struggled at first, I mean, really really struggled, and then I’d slowly begun to accept that maybe I would be at home until the youngest was at school. And I was okay with it. I had the routine down, had lowered my expectations of what kind of mother I could be (flawed), and I was starting to settle. Yes, JUST starting to settle after 2 years, let’s just say it had been one bleedin’ long bedding in period. Yes i was still a bit jaded, mouthed off once in a while about why women couldn’t have it all, but I was living with it. Struggling with my identity, going through some kind of third life crisis, but living with it all the same.

But then i went back to work, and i’ve got to say – WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? Me, Milk, a full time mum? 14 hours a day, non stop fetching, cleaning, cooking, wiping, mopping, shrieking? It’s just too bloody difficult. It’s not me. I’m too impatient, petulant, easily bored, obsessive, emotional, – goddamn too bloody tired most of the time to do all that.

My life suddenly has more balance. I have children days and work days. Weekdays and weekend days. Work clothes, sloppy clothes and, goddamn it, i now even have sexy clothes (and a sexy new fringe may I add). But seriously, this IS me. I think I might have lost myself for a while back there. Convinced myself i was someone else because, well, i had to.

But do you know what? I might have found it difficult, I might be happier having some me time and ponsing on a bit about monetising content and defining user journeys, but I jolly well did prove i COULD do the stay at home mum thing if I really really had to. Just pretty please don’t make me do it again.

Milk Retrospective: According to Karren Brady you can have it all

I thought it was time for another Milk Retrospective because i have bugger all new ideas i was really concerned some of my later readers might have missed some early gems.

This post came early on in Milk’s career at a time when i was, shall we say, just a little obssessed with the question of whether women could have it all. Angry – for feeling a bit let down by all those people who’d told me i could and would be able to, amazed at how other women seemed to be doing it, resigned – to giving up a career i’d worked hard for but was unprepared to make the sacrifices for.

Now, having gone back to work on a contract part time doing what i love, i have to admit it’s maybe not all the doom and gloom my early Milk self wanted to believe. My hopes are up (just a bit) and i’m experimenting. I’ll let you know what i find.

In the meantime, enjoy.

As if answering my post Having it all Karren Brady was interviewed in yesterdays Daily Express stating defiantly “My goal is to have it all” with a photo of her looking more than a wee bit smug. I read on hoping to be enlightened. Just how did one of the UK’s most successful business women (MD of Birmingham City Football Club at 23) manage to find a life balance between her high pressured career, and raising 2 kids (now 13 and 11)?

She talks passionately about wanting girls to believe they can do anything they want “brain surgeon, engineer, scientist” clearly believing, no doubt through experience, that women can succeed even in the most male dominated industries. Acknowledging that she has a “hectic family life” she goes on to boast that she “doesn’t have any full time help”. I am impressed.

Apparently the key, according to Karren, is to share the childcare with her husband (also a football manager) and to work as a team. Hmmm, no real insight here. I read on, hoping for some tangeable hints and tips on how she actually makes it work. However, this is where the cracks begin to show. She advises the reader that it takes sheer hard work to get to the top and sacrifices along the way like missing swanky nights out (ok could deal with that, not much of a party animal anyway), .. all the christmases …., the holidays, the….”. Hold on, did she say christmases? I can’t imagine missing one christmas day with the kids, let alone plural.

And so the truth comes out. In the end, it is still all about making choices. Work or kids. And as Karren finally admits: “If you choose work you can’t sleep at night, because you feel bad you’ve not been there for your kids”. Sounds like she’s got a lot of experience in that department. Thanks Karren for finally coming clean.

It seems even Karren Brady doesn’t have any real answers. You might be able to “do” it all, but that is still a far cry from “having it all”. I suppose, in fairness, Karren Brady did just say her “goal” was to have it all. She never said she’d succeeded. I stand by my original post.

Click here for article in full

Get back to work Milk!

I got a message while i was living the highlife at Haven from an old friend of mine i used to work with in my Manchester/Liverpool days. He needed someone to help him deliver a marketing project for 3-4 months and he thought i’d be ideal.

Ego – kerching!

So there i was muddling along quite happily, having dealt with some of my own demons over the past year or so, and finally settling down into the life of a SAHM. I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact i would probably be doing it until the littlest was at school, and i was okay with it. Sort of. Then i got the phonecall, and i saw the job description and these butterflies starting fluttering around in my stomach that i thought had long dissipated. A part of me that had been hibernating for a few years, initially subdued by force, seemingly lounging in acquiescent slumber. I realised that maybe my career drive hadn’t quite left me, temporarily or otherwise.

I was immediately up for it. More than that actually. I felt a sudden selfish urge. Sod the kids. How was i going to make this happen?

Ok so my motherly instincts did kick back in at some point, and i starting weighing everything up and working things through sensibly. And luckily i was able to make sense of it all and put the relevant plans into place.

So i start this week. Exciting. Coffee breaks and heels, what more could a woman want?

And i never knew its appeal until an opportunity came and smacked me in the face.

Now i’ve just got to work on the husband. He’s got off scot free on the homemaker front these past few years. I’ll have to get his marigolds back out and clean his pinnie. The nice one with the breasts on it.

We’re going back to the interesting and befuzzled division of roles of the modern-day world for a bit. Wish me luck!

Remember your obligations woman!

First, read this:

Tough life for stay at home mums?

I’d love to throw this woman to a lion’s den full of us blogging mothers and see how she got on for just a minute. As if filling the dishwasher was the hardest thing we encounter on a daily basis.

BUT, if you can, pick your jaw off the floor for a minute and try and see past the misogynistic and deeply patronising undertones in this article. If you can do that (and it will take some doing) she does raise a very interesting question that i think is worthy of some discussion.

Now come on we’re adults here, stop calling Ms Schlessinger a *tch for just one second and listen.

If you know a bit about me you’ll know i’ve been pretty hacked off recently at realising that I couldn’t have it all. Or at least i wasn’t prepared for all the sacrifices i’d need to make to get there. I do feel a bit that women have shot themselves in the foot . Not that women shouldn’t have all the rights and opportunies that men have, but that so much is now expected of women. To pursue their own ambition and achieve professional success, whilst still (in most instances) raising a family and submitting to that huge responsibility. We’re not HAVING it all, we’re just DOING it all.

And of course, this expectation and drive comes from nowhere stronger than within. The critical voice saying that we must do it all, have it all, or we risk sullying the name of those that went before us and fought for our freedom.

We’re raised to believe, as women, that we can do anything, achieve anything if we shout loud enough and are single minded enough to compete against the men. Only to find ourselves later struggling to over-ride the urge for self fulfillment, to downplay our own needs and wants when a child is born. Are these two drivers, one selfish, the other selfless, ultimately in conflict?

And so, returning to the lovely Ms Schlessinger for a minute do we just expect too much nowadays? Are we too selfish in our pursuits? Have we become all about the having rather than the doing?

People will say rightly so. But returning to me just for a second (yeay my favourite subject) this having/being/wanting over doing hasn’t made me very happy has it? I wanted a successful career, a happy family and it’s smarted a bit that i couldn’t have it all. And actually, in some small way my life has been simpler, less stressful, calmer since i embraced my SAHM status and stopped rallying against the responsibility that i sometimes feel is suffocating the selfish me.

So should we just get on with it and stop moaning? Put our children first without questioning where that leave s us?

Now we’ve pondered that for a bit, good. You take her arms and I’ll take her legs. You in the corner, get those pooey nappies ready for hurling. Right. One. Two. Three….

Come on. As if my day could get any worse.

“On the outskirts of every agony sits some observant fellow who points”

A truism tweeted by @twowitwowoo this morning, except i might be tempted to substitute in a less polite word for fellow.

Life as a stay at home mum can be really hard. I know there’ll be those of you rolling your eyes at this stage, refusing to believe it. SAHMs just sit all day long and chat, change a few nappies, then chat some more. Don’t they?

Let me tell you that you’re wrong. There are perks, obviously. Mostly logisitical, and involving DHL, but they are often outweighed by the daily physical and emotional traumas.

Yes, T-R-A-U-M-A. I did say that. (i adore my kids btw before someone tries to suggest shopping me to the social again, citing child hatred issues).

Good, i’m glad we’ve got that straight.

Right, back to the observant *ckers. So, if a SAHM’s life can bend towards the traumatic now and then, why is it that some people seem intent on pushing you that little bit further towards the precipice?

This is a snapshot of some of the things i’ve had to endure recently, at times in my daily adventures where i was about at my emotional limit.

Scene 1: Doctor’s surgery, 1 hr after arriving. Mummy milk, as always, treading the fine line between letting the boys (4 and 2) do what they want (running up and down the corridor) and screaming because i have tried to put a stop to it.

Old woman “Can’t you control your children?”

Mummy Milk “No, why don’t you show me how it’s done.”

Scene 2: Having tempted, threatened, forcefully removed the children from the park, Mummy Milk is attempting to put child no.2 in car from roadside on busy main road, selflessly risking her life in the process.

Tutting cyclist “Now that’s really sensible, isn’t it? B-R-A-V-O!!” (audible tut)

Mummy Milk “**** off. There are 2 of them. Somebody goes in from the roadside.” (Yes, sometimes, just sometimes at the peak of my torment I swear).

Scene 3: Grandma Milk’s house. Baby asleep in car, mummy milk carefully watching from house window. (Baby has screamed all the way there, has finally fallen asleep exhausted, frazzled Mummy Milk just couldn’t bear to wake him up)

Community support officer “Is this your baby? *rolls eyes*

Mummy Milk “Umm yes, I was just taking shopping inside” (little white lie, instantly on defensive)

Community support officer “You’re not doing anything wrong legally, but as a father myself, I would never ever do anything like this. Anyone could break the window and steal your baby”

Mummy Milk “With all due respect, if it isn’t a legal issue, i’m not interested in parenting advice from you.” (i’ll mention at this point that he was all of about 24)

Community support officer, continuing in condescending tone with the kind of self-righteousness that comes from wearing a uniform “Well you really should have taken the baby in first, and then got the shopping”.

Mummy Milk (really losing her rag now) “OK smart-arse, if i did it your way, just who would watch my son while i came back outside to get the shopping? Would you rather he crawl to the top of the downward flight of stairs and hurl himself kamikaze off them like a baby base jumper in training? ”

Why is it so important for people to be right, that their smugness overides their human instinct to be sensitive to someone having a bad day?

If only they could all be like that 80 yr old grandma I met the other day who, on seeing me struggling to strap the youngest into the buggy, marched over saying “Just wait there luv”, promptly placed knee to stomach and held him down while i fastened the straps. (For all you shocked childless people out there, just you wait and see what technique you use to get your screaming child into a buggy).

One of the things i’ve learnt as a parent. Never judge. You never know what you might end up having to do in any given situation. It’s almost always what you vowed you would never ever do in a million years before you had children.

Ok, who am i kidding? I judge all the time.

Just don’t ever say it out loud.

Stay at home barbie

I used to think that stay-at-home-mums were a specific breed and that i was of an entirely different pedigree.

Stay-at-home-mums could never have been interested in a career, or ever been good enough at it. Were more interested in craft and baking, tea parties, discussing all over body tans and whether Camilla was old enough for a pony.

Stay-at-home mums liked to chat. About nothing. Endless chitchat. Gossiping. Complaining. Showing off.

They spent all their time on the phone, or shouting at their kids to get down from the sideboard.

They had certainly never been to University (otherwise they’d have wanted that career, surely).

They were either the earth mother type, all floury and flowery, or had married into money (or more of it).

And then (so unlikely i had thought) i became one.

And realised that being a stay-at-home mum is a circumstance not a disposition.

Stay-at-home mums come in all shapes and sizes. Have different stories. Different motivations and expectations.

I have met an ex lawyer, a head teacher, a secretary, a doctor, a hairdresser. All taking a career break to look after their young children. Feminists, community activists, triathletes. All just trying to make it work. Unified by luck or brevity for choosing this path.

It seems Breadwinner Ken will have to go back on the shelf next to my copy of The easy way to overcoming prejudice.

I admit it. I’m scared.

That’s right. Scared. Anxious. Most of the time.

They say its evolutionary. The fight or flight instinct. Except now we have nothing to use it for, so we experience it in all manner of inappropriate situations. It’s not necessary, and yet, ironically, it still plagues us.

And boy does it plague me.

I think i live in a state of anxiety 98.4% of the time. For most of that time i’m not even consciously aware of it. Certainly not aware why. It’s just a state of being. A state of mind.

And a state of body. All tense, painful and tight.

Funny thing is i’ve put myself into a situation in the past year which is crack cocaine to anxiety.

All the things i usually rely on to feel secure, routed, in control. All the familiar things, I’ve taken away from myself.

Walked away from my career. A good salary. A clear path of where i’m going. What i’m aiming for.

Found myself a mother of two.

Two noisy, messy, dangerous boys.

And i’m so not in control of very much anymore.

I certainly have no idea where i’m going. I’m not even sure what tomorrow holds.

Except a whole pile of washing and a lot of patience.

Have i made the right choices?

Am i being irresponsible?

Will i ever get my career back?

And it scares me. And i’m exhausted.

wine o’clock

Someone once said to me “With my first child i had a glass of wine every evening at 8. With my second i had a glass of wine at 7, and with my 3rd i had a whiskey at 6”.

Now i can assume there was some poetic license being employed here. However, the idea of a “rule” to dictate what is and is not acceptable drinking behaviour does seem to be quite commonly employed by us SAHM, although what that actual time is varies considerably.

There are many that would never consider having a glass until after the kids are in bed (actually i sit in this category, unless i have had a particularly traumatic day).

There are those that draw the line at the kid’s dinnertime (after all it’s hugely irresponsible to drink on an empty stomach isn’t it? Oh it’s the kids eating, what the hell, the same rule applies).

There are those that allow themselves one glass with their own dinner.

(And of course there are those that don’t drink at all but i don’t actually know any of those, do you?)

Now there are certain contingencies written into this rule.

By day of the week (e.g. Friday = usual wine o’clock minus 1 hr, Saturday = minus 2 hrs and so on).

By daily “stress rating”. So really quite stressful = wine o’clock minus 1 hr. And so on.

You get the picture.

It might seem a little complicated, but actually it’s quite a crafty way of making our behaviour really quite acceptable. After all, we’re totally in control, just look how rigidly we can stick to “the rules”.

I’m not branding all stay at home mums alcohol dependent (although of course some of us probably are after all that antenatal boozing Alcoholic mother in training).

It’s just that in our culture a drink is (ok wrongly) usually seen as a treat. As a bonus for getting through something difficult. And surely there’s nothing more difficult than a bad day with children?

Having said all this, I can probably count on one hand the number of times i’ve had a daytime drink with another stay at home mum.

Now if men were more often the principal caregivers would the world be a very different place?

Might all pubs have creches, and Friday afternoons be set around a bbq and a bucket of small french ales?

Whenever i’ve said this to my husband he’s got uncharacteristingly cross. Ok writing it down now it does seem unforgiveably sexist.

But i remember times when it wasn’t unheard of for dads to leave their kids in the car outside the pub while they had a few. At least in my version they take them inside the pub.

Christ, I can also remember a time when…..

Gosh, is that the time? It’s half past wine o’clock and i’ve been too busy writing this to notice.

What a waste. Better fly. Turrah!

Henri no mates

Why is it that i’m the only person that invites ME anywhere?

I am always the one to suggest meeting up. Having coffee. Going to the park.

Noone ever seems to ask me.

I reckon either a) noone else owns a diary / is incredibly disorganised / unimaginative / grumpy or b) mildly agrophobic or (shock horror) c) noone actually likes me.

Now i do have low self esteem, but i’m pretty sure that some of them like me.

I mean they usually accept my invitations.

Plus, as i said in Who are you again? you only have to have children in common to make a shared outing more attractive than being confined to four walls. So i’m sure pretty much anyone could put up with me for a few hours under the circumstances.

So why don’t THEY ever invite me anywhere?

Why do i find myself most days walking up and down where i live, pushing the buggy aimlessly, staring into space and dreaming of conversations i might be having?

I wouldn’t mind except this full time mummy business can be ever so lonely, and i quite like adult conversation now and again.

Perhaps if you wouldn’t mind dialling the speaking clock on your way out, i’ve a lot of adult chat to catch up on…