The world’s most demanding job?
Parenting. Being a parent is the most demanding job on the planet. Hands down.
You don’t need special permission to become a parent in Australia. You’re expected to know what to do with a tiny human as soon as it exits your body.
No instructions required!
Can you imagine what a child instruction manual would look like? Ha! Kids could never come with an instruction manual. How could they? It would need to be updated every fucking month.
I’ve been a parent for nearly ten years, and I still feel like I’m learning as much now as I did during those first few weeks.
Sometimes I wonder why I chose this job. It’s often thankless. It’s sleep-depriving. The pay is non-existent.
The worst part? I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. I know. I’m insane. It makes no sense.
One minute I can’t get enough of the smell of their skin and secretly hope they don’t get any bigger so I can savour them as small humans who need me. And the next minute, I’m having violent thoughts and wishing myself anywhere but here.
My year of living intentionally is to be more present. Present with my two children. My family. Myself. And I’m not embarrassed to say that I’ve been smashing it. I’m so fucking present that I realise how much time I used to spend outside my home and away from these crotch spawns.
Guess what? Being present doesn’t mean being available and in the same space every day.
I read once that a child needs 15 minutes a day of 1:1 time with a parent to feel loved and develop the way they need to. When I worked full time, that was often my goal. I’m dedicating a tonne more time than that now, and I think it’s just making me pissed off, feel underappreciated, and I know the kids are thinking, “Oh, mum will do that.”
The number of times I say — “I’m not your servant” — only to go and do what I said I wouldn’t because the mess pisses me off. Gah!
I know that I’m making a rod for my own back. I’m causing my own pissed-off-ed-ness.
Being present is one thing, but I need boundaries. The boundaries are rules for the household (and ourselves) so that everyone understands the expectations.
Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries.
It’s a rolling family joke that if there are boundaries or rules to follow, don’t ask Hinda to set them.
My Mum and sister are boundary queens. They waste exactly zero fucks worrying about how people will respond to their actions or decisions. And the beauty of it? They do it without pissing anyone off. Ok, mostly. It’s inspiring.
I’m a yes person. I always have been. And I had to hit proper burnout before I realised there was a way to say no without letting anyone down. Myself included.
Setting my boundaries is something I have to remind myself of every day. It does not come naturally. And I now have a weekly alarm on my phone to help with that.
With regular reminders for myself and having helpful conversations with the people I love, I know that boundaries are beneficial for everyone.
It still feels weird to me to set boundaries — but I’m working on it.
