When I talk to women about returning to work I find they base their plans on what they used to do. This makes sense – it’s what they know. What this approach fails to acknowledge is that so much has changed.

I’ve finally made it to work. I’m not late I don’t have fixed hours, but I’m later than I intended to be. I‘m calm, and in a reasonable frame of mind. My pre-schooler took two hours to get himself ready for kindy today, and everyone got to where they needed to be without tears.

There’s a world of difference between the kind of busy that you’ve chosen and the kind that’s thrust upon you. Essentially, ‘busy’ that’s beyond your control is simply stressful.

When you’re up to your third baby, the gifts are a bit thinner. Those first babies really get all the glory. I feel like the third time around people are a bit wary of encouraging you to continue breeding. If anyone did ask this time my request was for problems or challenges they were facing.

Working from home and raising kids is all good while each element stays in its box. And then something shifts. It’s not even usually a big thing. In fact, it’s usually the little things that mess up your finely-balanced work/home ecosystem. Yesterday, that thing was a client coming back to me at 3.15 rather than 2.30.

My ten-year-old son asked me yesterday “why is Dad working so much more than you when you both have jobs? It doesn’t seem fair.” I told him that’s just the way it is at the moment. And this is true, but the fire of resentment is building in me, as I suspect it is in households all around the country and the world. 

Yesterday at 1.45pm will become one of those times that everyone in the country remembers exactly where they were and what they were doing for years to come. The next few weeks are shaping up to be a rollercoaster. Work lives and home lives will be combined in the most extreme way.