Serena Terry of Mammy Banter: 'I feel like I’m failing at being the working mum who can do it all'

It’s time to shake off the superhero capes — women can’t do it all, writes Serena Terry, the woman behind viral sensation, ‘Mammy Banter’

Sat, 12 Mar, 2022 - 06:00

Serena Terry

I’ve attempted to write this piece at least six times this morning. Not because I’m struggling with the actual writing, but because I’m struggling with working from home during midterm break.

As I typed the sentence above, my six-year-old has called me three times — three times, in a minute. Now, imagine how many times he calls me throughout the entire day.

This is something that we’ve become accustomed to now though isn’t it? Thanks to the pandemic, us working mothers have gone from spinning all the plates to trying to spin one plate, then being interrupted, which means the plate drops and it’s then harder for us to pick up the spinning from where we left off. However, we must endure, and go get all of our plates ready again, even if said plates still haven’t been unloaded from the dishwasher, and at least four of them are upstairs in my teenage daughter’s room, growing fungus due to her sheer unholy laziness these days.

And breathe.

I really went full metaphor on those plates there didn’t I? But bear with me.

You see, as women and particularly as mums, we’re supposed to have an innate ability to multitask. Mums are superheroes right? But why is that?

I mean pre-pandemic, we raised our children and project managed their little extra curricular lives with finesse, OK maybe not finesse but we managed it. We also worked our own jobs, maintained friendships and relationships, stopped and started fitness classes in many bids to get healthy, did our best to be social when we could and when our friends could, and all while managing our households.

We did it all. And yes it was hard, but as women and as mothers, we normalised our ability to do all of the above so much that when the pandemic hit, and in particular, the introduction of working from home rules and homeschooling, that us ‘superheroes’ felt the pang of what kryptonite must have felt like to Superman.

You see, normalising societal perceptions of what our role as women and mothers should be meant that whilst we were already killing ourselves to upkeep those standards and ‘multi-task’ pre-pandemic, which in hindsight, was already a boiling, bubbling melting-pot of physical and mental tasks that was full to the brim.

Why did it take the addition of the pandemic to realise that this isn’t sustainable and should never have to be. Why are more women now than ever, struggling with their mental health?

Here’s my take. The pandemic hit and the pot tremendously boiled over. It all got too much, and true to form, something had to give. Unfortunately for many of us, it was our mental health.

A recipe for mental health disaster in working mums:

Ingredients: Add everything you’re already doing into a pot of boiling water.

Pour in a dash of working from home. Add a few drops of homeschooling.

Results: Catastrophic boil over.

They say a watched pot never boils, but that’s the thing, who was watching our pot? No one. We weren’t. We were too busy being those ‘superhero’ mums. The pot was already at max capacity, we had added too many ingredients because we thought that’s what we had to do, it’s in the unwritten superhero mum recipe book right?

I, for one, have a lot less tolerance for managing the stress of ‘multi-tasking’ and being a ‘superhero’ mum. The pandemic broke that little bit of resilience I had.

Arguably though, I don’t think it was fair to have built up resilience over my ability to do everything for everyone, every single day. I mean, why the fuck did I put that pressure on myself?

I grossly underestimated the mental health benefits of being able to drop the kids to school and head into an office to do my job, unknowingly being social and having a routine with a healthy lunch. Some days I’d kill to have that back, other days I wonder how I’d even have the energy to get up earlier to dress professionally before the kids wake. I’m quite fond of my extra half an hour in bed now.

Kids be like 🤦🏼‍♀️ pic.twitter.com/keRRPEVaUk
— Serena Terry (@MammyBanter) February 3, 2022

I’m not a bad mother by saying going to work sometimes felt like a break, and that’s not because my job is easy, but it’s because my children aren’t there to demand my attention and make me drop the plate I’d just begun to spin that has a 2pm deadline. I didn’t have to stare at the pile of washing I’m staring at now that’s giving me anxiety because I know I can just get up and get it sorted. I had a desk at work which I’ve since traded for my kitchen table that’s currently decorated right with slime covered toys, a half empty Ribena, and tub of colossal mess-making moon sand that’s going to soon meet its fate in the bin before my six-year-old catches a glimpse of it.

But in work, I was me. I wasn’t mammy. I was Serena. I got to eat my lunch in peace. I got to, and these moments are real treats, believe me, go to the toilet in peace. I could have meetings and complete tasks without being summoned by a tiny human 432 times an hour for food, or a drink, or toys, or to ask if elephants can smell their own butts, or, and this one got me right in the mom-guilts, just to play. I was able to have conversations with other adults, and not one of them tried to stick their finger up my nose, ask me why my belly is so big or ask me to wipe their bum. Although, could you imagine that HR meeting.

I work at home. I live at home. I raise my children at home. I am supposed to relax at home.

On a bad day, I feel like a little bit of my professionalism is dying at home. I feel like my ‘fun’ mum side is dying at home. I feel like I am falling apart some days, and for that exact reason, because I feel like I’m falling apart.

I feel like I’m failing at being a superhero. That pre-pandemic superhero, you know the one who’s a working mum, who can do it all, who’s got this shit down according to society and admittedly my highly filtered and staged pre-2020 instagram pics.

But on a good day, I remember this.

The pandemic broke a resilience in me that I should never have had in the first place. A resilience that was ingrained in me by legacy, and more currently, instagrammable society as a woman and a mother.

The pandemic and the many low mental health days I’ve had since, made me realise that just surviving each day is enough. OK, I may have had to write that sentence a few times due to tiny human interruption, and I may not be hitting as many targets in work in comparison to when I was in the office but look, I am surviving. My kids are happy and healthy. My marriage is strong, most days — OK we’re human. We have a roof over our heads. Anything else is a bonus.

Since the pandemic I’ve not only gloriously gained two stone (that’s a whole other metaphor filled article) but I’ve gained a new perspective on what it means to be a working mum. I’ve had to for my mental health. And do you know what? It’s not measured by success or societal acceptance or praise. It’s measured in health and happiness.

Before I add any task ingredient to my pot now, I ask if it’s going to bring health or happiness benefits to me or my family. If it’s not, it stays on the shelf. I refuse to let my pot boil over because of the ingredients in the ‘superhero’ mum recipe. I’m gonna stick to homemade recipes from now on and make sure that there is enough room below the surface for some self-care ingredients, just for me.

I am a superhero, I am surviving. I am in a better place when I expect less of myself as a woman and a mother. And also when I take my medication (no shame ladies) and get out of this office/home/school of mine, which at times and particularly today, is easier said than done.

Now, I’m away to throw this moon sand in the bin and put a nice top on over my PJs for my 2pm Zoom meeting.

Stay strong mamas. Keep an eye on that pot and the ingredients you’re putting in it.