The balancing act: Mother, Businessowner, Daughter and Care giver
Life's road is long, full of bumps and curves a long the way, if your lucky it straightens out but you keep going, keep going that is the mantra for being a working mother, a wife and a caregiver.
At the moment, life is hectic and busy.
I run my own business, something I dreamed of doing for many years.
I wanted to build something that reflected my vision and gave me flexibility, especially when I had little ones.
Although during the infancy and toddler years, "flexibility" as it turned out, was working when my children were in bed.
Friends and colleagues often commented, “You're so lucky to work for yourself”, and I have to admit, even now, that statement vexes me.
There's nothing lucky about setting up a business; it takes hard work, plenty of knocks, and a steely smile.
But while I embraced that freedom during my children's early school years, I was also 'always on'.
There was and is no "off" button. There are times, even now, with grown young men, when it is full-on.
Busy and loud in the way everything and everyone constantly needs me at once, and I have to admit I don't know how I held it all together back then, and I'm not sure I'm doing a good job now.
Indeed, in the early days of the business and with young kids, I had the kind of life that did not pause; the gears constantly shifted.
And now, I am a working mother of two older boys still living at home.
You can read more about this here.
I'm also a daughter to ageing parents who live a long distance away, so I can't just drop in every other day and make sure they are okay.
And as I own a business, you can't drop everything and disappear for a few days.
There is no dividing line separating these three roles.
I take business calls when I am having breakfast, and there were many times when I signed school reports and permission slips for my boys while cooking the evening meal or in a client meeting.
Back then, I experienced the guilt, the working women's syndrome, as I used to call it.
Am I doing enough for my children, and am I there for them or just in body only?
But I realised that with my own business came the freedom to attend school plays, Christmas nativities and parents' evenings, all of which, except one, I never missed.
Even now, my eldest comes in from his working day to find me working at my desk.
And I am proud to say that we are here because this business has helped us get where we are and continues to help us.
That is very important for me because it matters that I show up and that I am setting, I hope, a good example to my kids.
During my children's school years, I desperately wanted to be an emotionally available, patient, warm, and present mother.
But I was often tired and overwrought and felt like my brain could no longer process.
To be honest, not much has changed; it’s just maturity and a better understanding of life and its pitfalls.
In the midst of all of this, there are my ageing parents.
They are almost 89 and live in a home they should have moved out of ten years ago, into a more manageable home.
The changes are subtle - forgetfulness, memory loss, even calling me by my birth name and not my nickname, which has been with me since I was five years old.
My mother gets flustered easily, and now it has been confirmed she has Alzheimer's, so there is an additional burden of worry.
It's hard to describe the emotional weight of watching your parents, who once seemed invincible, become so vulnerable.
There's no guidebook for living in this in-between.
I am still mothering but differently, advising and guiding young men.
While the school pickups, sick days, homework and after-school activities are long gone, I am also stepping into the role of carer for my parents.
It is a strange situation suspended between generations, constantly giving, adjusting, and sometimes forgetting your needs.
It is a chapter no one prepares you for; you care for your children and parents while trying to keep yourself afloat.
It's lonely and frustrating as you pivot from a working businesswoman to a caregiver in two phone calls.
I've accepted that some things have to go, to slip and that completion is better than perfection.
Despite what seems to be organised chaos, there is a sense of purpose, patience and resilience you have to find.
In between the cracks, there is joyfulness despite everything going wrong.
Sometimes, you put down the tools and laugh at it all.
If I have learned one thing about running a business, it is that tomorrow is another day, and I know I will keep going.
It is imperfect and shaky, but at the centre of the whirlwind, there is meaning, there is a purpose, and finally, there is me.
