The Not-Working Mum

Embracing the Ultimate Career

“How was your day?” my husband asked as he walked through the door, tired but curious.

“I’m exhausted,” I sighed, sinking into the couch. “This not-working mum... is worn out. And there’s still so much left to do.”

I began recounting my day. To an outsider, it might not have sounded like much, but being a not-working mum is a constant whirlwind. Just as I’m about to focus on something—anything—I’m met with “Can I have more milk?” or “I’m bored,” or “Mummy, you’re precious.”

The day could have been perfect. After all, I have a nearly five-year-old who is a bright, shining wonder, and nothing fascinates me more. But in 2024, the pressure to be a “working mum,” to contribute to the household (and national) economy, creeps in. It can sometimes sour my gratitude and fill my mind with nagging doubts: “You’re lazy… you didn’t figure this out. Why aren’t you being productive? So you’ve decided to be no one. Well done.”

As I juggle household chores, barely making a dent, all while encouraging my son to cook, draw, and embrace life with a spring in his step, I question how on earth I could do this while holding a job elsewhere. The social shift over the last two generations has been monumental, yet we don’t discuss it enough. Women with children are often caught in this strange limbo, quietly whispering to one another, “Isn’t this insane?”

But we dare not say more. After all, we’re told that men and women are the same. Therefore, everything must be balanced to the last decimal point. Even if it’s not entirely possible, the ideology must be upheld. A child-free friend in a same-sex relationship once told me, “I think it’s essential that both people in a relationship split their costs down the middle.” It seems that in 2024, everything must be 50/50.

This got me thinking about the numbers. Am I the only one struggling to make this perfectly symmetrical split work?

In the 1960s and 1970s, the percentage of mothers working outside the home began to rise dramatically, driven by economic necessity, evolving social norms, and the feminist movement advocating for women’s rights, including the right to work. By 1975, nearly 47% of mothers with children under 18 were part of the labor force. By the early 1980s, that figure had surpassed 50%, marking a significant societal shift.

Fast forward to 2024, and most mothers in the UK and Australia are working. About 75% of mothers with dependent children are employed, and there’s an increasing trend toward dual-income households. Yet, recent studies suggest that around 50% of mothers—and, interestingly, 50% of fathers—would prefer to be at home with the kids. If we want our houses to feel like homes…they need people in them. We need someone to clean, organize, manage the chaos, choose the meals, and have enough energy left to listen to the home's heartbeat.

Right now, though, we have capitalism and feminism inadvertently reducing our identities solely to our careers or social status. If a teenager today were to say, “I want to focus on finding a partner and being a stay-at-home carer,” we’d likely look at them as if something had gone terribly wrong.

Yet, as C.S. Lewis wisely wrote, “The homemaker has the ultimate career. All other careers exist for one purpose only—and that is to support the ultimate career.”

In our mad dash for outward success and financial gain, we mustn’t forget the profound value of this ultimate career.

I’m a millennial by a whisker, born in 1984. I was raised to chase a dazzling career, find myself, and be someone. Not once was finding a partner, having children, and being a homemaker mentioned. It wasn’t even on my radar. When my husband expressed his desire for children, I responded, “If we must.” I thought of a child as a manageable side dish. So you can imagine my surprise when a perfect little being entered my life, blinding me with beauty and the fleeting nature of time. Suddenly, the role of homemaker revealed itself as the ultimate career.

I know it’s 2024. I don’t expect society to dictate that one gender should be the homemaker. But I find it troubling that we’ve so carelessly discarded this ultimate career. As I write this, my son is at daycare, and I’m searching for a career or job to replace this most fulfilling role. Like 50% of men and women, I long to be fully present in the home, unshackled by the social and economic pressures of feminism and capitalism. Free to embody that nurturing, feminine energy that cleans, organizes, and listens for the home's heartbeat. Free to be fully present when a child says something as magical and unexpected as, “Mummy... you’re precious.”