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Having it all*


*Published in The Drum August 2018



Women, fellow industry mums, ladies juggling life. In this socially-connected age of having it all and wanting it all – because let’s face it, we’ve more than earned the right – what happens if you don’t actually want it?

Instagram is choc-full of insta-mums doing the lot. They’re breastfeeding in the boardroom. They’re posting on the school run. They’re barrier-crashing, inspiring, empowering. Just look at them and their Breton stripes and their mum-garees. That could be me, you think.

Anna Whitehouse, aka @motherpukka breastfeeds while she talks on a panel about pushing for flexible working for mums, dads, everyone. Her ‘flex appeal’ campaign is making massive, Lycra-wearing strides for us. She’s all mouth and fabulous trousers. She’s doing it all, for all of us.

There’s @stylemesunday, the former midwife, who openly says that some days are total rubbish. She poses in her underwear, mummy-tummy out. She’s happy in her skin. And you should be too, she tells us. Sure, she’s sponsored to wear that bra and those ethically-sourced, big brand jeans. But she’s doing it for her kids and she’s proud of that. She’s bringing all the realness, and doing it all too.

Then there are the initiatives coming out of our ears, the Talented Ladies Club – a network for mums who freelance, or want to launch a new business. Vital! The Mother of All Meet Ups – an exclusive Facebook group where mums post useful stuff, post baby. Just the ticket! Because it’s hard and we’re all in this together. We need this. And again, they’re run by working mums, doing this on the side.

But I have to ask, is it just me, or is it starting to feel like without a side hustle – and a load of extra hassle – you’re not really doing it right?

Journalist Sali Hughes looks back on the heart-wrenching, back-breaking struggle of working all hours when her kids were small, to make ends meet – and still meet deadlines and see the school play. Sali talks not just of the will to work, but the absolute need to as a single parent.

These are the sentiments that push us forward and make us want to do well, for our own kids. But there’s a niggle with all this. And it threatens to undo all the leopard-print wearing, fist-pumping, breast-pumping inspo that fills our feeds and our heads.

What if you don’t want to do it all? Are you letting the side down?

What is it about today and needing to talk about your new business initiatives in the office and your side hustles in your spare time. Why do we need to give so very much, to everyone. Why have extra-curriculars become requirements? When will we be enough, just the way we are?

Maybe your ‘side hustle’ is reading that book you’ve been meaning to read. Maybe your ‘side hustle’ is having a lie-in once a week. Maybe you just want to be good at the job you do have – and the new role you’ve taken on at home.

Maybe your new hobby is being kinder to yourself and learning to say no sometimes.

Perhaps, dare I say it, you don’t have to do it all. Maybe you are enough.


July 2023 

Really Long.
Please read.


What’s everyone doing? What are you all DOING?
No, I’m serious. I’m actually asking.

How busy are we that we have to speak to each other using letters only, like robots? I’m getting NP, DW, PITA – not available with hummus sadly, and actually short for ‘pain in the arse.’

I must admit, PITA’s a useful one. But as much as I like letters, I like words more. Real, human words. Words that come from a person with a heart and brain – not a computer. If you’re not speaking to me ‘IRL’, at least write as though you are.

This comes at a time when I’ve spent so long Googling acronyms, I’m questioning whether I’m saving time at all.

TL:DR totally stumped me. It means Too Long: Didn’t Read, if you’re wondering. And tbh (!), that didn’t take me too long to write in full. It probably didn’t take you that long to read either. 

I just wonder if we really, REALLY are that busy – or are we making sure everyone knows we are? Because if we push open that tiny gate of breathing space, even just a little bit – if we make ourselves too available – someone will swoop in and ask something of us. Add another project to the list. Add another scoop to our plate.

Maybe we’re all just protecting ourselves? Or are we starting to forget, thanks to everything that’s brilliantly Zoom-y and Slack about our connectivity, that we are real people. We need time to breathe. Think. Ponder a bit.

Because those little breaks in typing or meeting or running for the train are often when the greatness happens. That old chesnut of a great idea popping into your head in the shower. Or moments before you drop off to sleep (notepad by the bed needed). When you stop really ‘thinking’. 

I know we’re all stuffed to the gills with things to do and important places to go and big, packed lives to live. YES! I’m loading the dishwasher, getting ready to go out, wiping dirty faces and bums whilst simultaneously replying to a meeting invite that starts in 20. YES! it’s a lot to do, and it feels like I forget to exhale sometimes.

But as generation ‘CU L8R’, with Nokia flip phone, Gladiators and Blind Date on a Saturday night – we’ve seen it all. We’ve done letters to pen pals, meeting up at specific times (agreed on the home phone in advance). We’ve done TXTING, Myspace, Bebo and everything that’s arrived since.

We’re across it. But the fundamentals remain, I won’t be Googling acronyms anymore. Not because I’m too busy – I’d just rather hear it in your own words. Just tell me what you want and what you mean. Tell me what you’re up to. How you’re feeling.

I’ve got all the time in the world for that.


January 2019

Give it up


What are you giving up? What are you going to stop doing? Come on, quick, it’s that time of year!

Just because it’s the day after the year before – and for no other reason – it’s time for you to undo everything you’ve just finished doing and give it all up. Just because the sun came up again.

Have you weighed yourself yet today? Have you done your big shop, minus everything you like? Did you shake your head at all the cheese and tut at anyone with bolly in their trolley? Have you declared yourself a new person, with a clean slate? I hope so.

Because as soon as all the festive joy stops, something far less joyful is supposed to happen. You’re supposed to stop living life the way you always do and start again. You’re supposed to give up being you and start being better. Because as each day of the new year passes by, you get worse. Uglier, fatter, meaner, more unpleasant.

By February, you march through parks knocking kids off their balance bikes. You trip up pensioners in May. By the time November comes, you might as well lock yourself up and throw away the key. Have you murdered anyone yet, you burger-eating hypocrite?

I think, just maybe, we need to stop all this.
So this January, how about you give up giving up stuff, and keep being you. And if you’re still figuring out what that is, keep exploring. Try stuff, read stuff, think about stuff. You don’t need to make an announcement, you can just grow quietly, without the need to shrink a dress size or run a marathon (but if that’s what you fancy, go for it).

If you’re already where you want to be today, if you don’t want to stop enjoying who you are and what you do – remind yourself of that. Because it’s OK not to do anything at all. Make that your resolution instead. Give up trying to be anyone but you. You’ve come this far after all.

And if you’re being pulled in all directions by adverts that tell you to change things about yourself, and social media posts telling you to do better and be better – when in truth you’re overwhelmed – sit still for a bit. It’s really OK.

Were you alright yesterday? Keep being alright. Were you kind? Keep being kind. Keep using your keep cup. Don’t forget your bag for life. Call your mum. Eat free range. Go to bed earlier. Donate to charity. Stroke dogs. Share a bag of sharing crisps. Look at an apple sometimes.

But you were doing all that yesterday, weren’t you? It’s standard. Give up giving stuff up. Give up escaping.

You’ll still be you tomorrow and we’ll still like you.



June 2018

The office unicorn

She’s wearing a new skirt. Her T-shirt’s tucked in and she’s dressing it down with trainers – because that’s what they’re all doing now. Fit in, blend in. Be one of them, she says to herself. You’ve still got it.

She doesn’t recognise many of them. There are smiles. There’s one hug of familiarity, maybe two. The rest seem younger and fresher. Are they bouncier too? They seem bouncier. The ideas are just hurling out of them like vomit. Very impressive vomit, not like the stuff she’s been used to at home. They’re so much better at this than me.

Somehow, while life happened in a maternity ward, in the front room, on the sofa, watching Location Location Location at 4am, everything changed. 10 months felt like 10 years, in her skin.

Today she’s back at work. And for the first time in almost a year, she can’t let her mind think about those chubby wrists and gummy smile. Can’t go there. Even though it feels like she’s left half of her heart behind. She needs that half. They need each other.

Today, she has something rarer than gold dust to attend to. A part-time job in a creative world.

Sure, she won’t have much time for the bantz, the after-work drinks, the lunches, the LOLs, but she makes her peace with that. She won’t expect promotions, cracking briefs or push for everything she really, really wants. It’s head down and remember how lucky you are, Mrs. Because she’s been granted three days in an agency.

She knows what a rarity it is, that “flexitime roles don’t exist”. She knows how many women are cast aside once their year of maternity leave is up – or during. She knows how many others are denied the new hours they ask for, despite the history they have with their agency and everything they’ve achieved. They’ll be refused flexible working, because everyone should be visible, all of the time.

So this weary unicorn will accept whatever there is. She’ll believe she’s one of the lucky ones. Because that’s the impression she gets, from the industry around her, her peers and the mums who’ve gone before. That’s what’s supposed to happen. Unless we all decide we won’t let it.

Unless we stand our ground and call the industry out.

Unless we’re allowed to keep being great – or even better than before.

Unless we stop blending in and being grateful – and push for exactly what we want until we get it. Because we’re confident there’s life in us yet. Promotions, awards, rungs of the ladder to climb, work that stands out – just like everyone else here.

Unless we do that.