There are stories of women transitioning back to the workforce after having children. Here is a story of re-entering the corporate workforce and transitioning out of it again...

There are stories of women transitioning back to the workforce after having children. Here is a story of re-entering the corporate workforce and transitioning out of it again.

A year ago I re-entered the workforce to a part time corporate marketing position. My third child had just turned one and the job was the perfect fit for me on paper. In my local area, part time hours, in my area of interest. Precisely what I was looking for. Some women I knew had always wanted to go back to full time work and were happy to do so, but I wanted to be involved with the day school activities and also finish off my fine art degree. The plan was to work the part time hours and spend the other part of the week with my young children, while pursuing my love of painting.

Being back in the workforce was exciting but was always going to be a tricky juggling act. From the beginning it was always a bit of a stretch; frantically fitting in as much work as I could in two and a half days before rushing off to the next errand or child pickup. Some of my childless colleagues lamented that they wished they could finish up at three o’clock. Little did they understand that I was just on to my next demanding job for the day. On some of the days I made three drop offs: school, kinder, and childcare, before rushing to reach work by 9.30 am. I soon also came to the realisation that this was not a part time job. Part time hours perhaps, but not a part time role. The reality of my perfect on paper job was slightly different in a practical sense. It was a full time workload, and commitment to my young family meant I couldn’t take work home, nor could I stay back extra hours to do additional work. All the talk of time management and being organised was well and good, but no matter how you looked at it, a full time workload could not be squeezed into a part time role. I may have left the demands of my customers at three o’clock, but the demands of three young children continued as soon as I left the office.

Seemingly straightforward work events for my full time colleagues were always a juggle for me. “Lunch?” “Sorry, I need to make these calls before I have to leave today”. “We need to attend a conference interstate for four days”. “Umm sure.” My mind begins to organise childcare arrangements, working out the very latest plane flight I can book.“Compulsory training session until 5.00 pm for two days”. “Ugh”. Falls on the days I don’t usually work. Requires calling on good friends or grandparent for the umpteenth time to look after the children. Then the calls from childcare. “Ethan has a fever”. Leave training session. Make up the hours somewhere else. But where?

That pay check was squirreled away for the three children, but as the nest egg for their future slowly grew, increasing stresses at my workplace meant their time with me diminished as I became more distracted at home after my work day. The income for their future was now at the cost of quality time with them in the present. I was studying and doing housework until two in the morning. I was too exhausted to paint.

Some of my friends exclaimed, “I don’t know how you do it?” In my mind I knew. It was by living on little sleep, stretching the good friendships I had, by asking for favours to pick up my children when I left 10 minutes late from work. Occasionally forgetting of one of the kid’s appointments. Too many takeaway meals. Forgetting library books on Monday. Looking at the calendar filled with scribbles overlapping on the same date. Listening to a little boy asking, “Why am I the last one picked up from childcare?” Simple birthdayCreated on 23/01/10 4:26 PM parties. No homemade cake this year.

For twelve months, I dealt with work politics, demanding customers, and work bureaucracy on a weekly basis. It was a whirlwind of tiredness, emotion, and guilt while balancing my work requirements. As I literally ran out of the office one day, a colleague asked if there was something urgent going on. Well, not really. Just another day to get from one place to another.

I ended up with no creative energy. No kid energy. No energy, full stop. I was torn between work and my family. I was dropping the balls...and the balls were the three children. I felt like a failure. Why couldn’t I do it all; so many women I knew had made the transition back to work after a break from the workforce. But then I thought again.

There was always a cost involved. For some the cost was worth it but for some it wasn’t. I realised I was ignoring all the stories of the women who had made the transition back to caring for the children. There was the friend whose work hours started creeping up, and her two day part time job became a four day job. The small business owner whose business partner had called her at hospital after she had given birth to her second daughter to complain she was not committed to the business. The full time worker who decided drop her income and work part time when her children started school so she could have more time to help them with their homework. Rather than doggedly pursuing something that was not working I chose to make a change. It was a learning experience. Some people could find the right work and life balance. I just had to find mine.

When I handed in my resignation I knew in my heart that it was the right decision. As I started counting down the days to when I would be leaving my employment, the persistent headache I was carrying around eased gradually. The positives came to the forefront. Already I was listening to my children more attentively as I made the transition back from well-paid part time corporate worker to full time mum.

I was taking back what I was surely losing. Careers are continually transitioning and I started looking at part time job advertisements optimistically. There were other options. Part time work in a different organisation, re-establishing my small design business, freelancing, companies that had job share arrangements, working from home. It wouldn’t be easy, but time spent designing my own unique career balance was better than time spent in something that wasn’t working. I just needed to make the transition and jump with my eyes open.

A year on from when I started my job, I belatedly took out my paints and started painting a picture of my little girl. And as she started to emerge from the canvas, so did I.