Job titles don't pay bills.

It’s 23:28, I’m bumping some Nas (Cherry Wine ft Amy, if you must know) and I’m irked and equally fired up. 

My career or perhaps lack of has come under scrutiny in the last few days. Whilst it usually doesn't bother me, questions are slowly starting to widen the gaps in the decisions I’ve made and I’m left wondering if deep down, I’m just a corrupt capitalist that should have listened to her father when he encouraged her to be a lawyer (specifically divorce, bare money in that)

You see it’s been a long and winding road to here. Just as a finally settled on a career path (which was the one I spoke about at seven so talk about taking the Israelites route!) I quickly cottoned on that the Motherhood is a plate that if you want it to be spun well, you may have to dedicate the early years to doing exactly that. 

I won’t bore you with the emotional roundabout that led to me quitting my dream job in publishing. But if you are interested the video is here.

I quit my job with the only plan B being the kid. See the problem with that was, is and will be forever more is that I’m just not the SAHM type. (Stay At Home Mum, for those not yet versed in parenting acronyms) 

You know the ones, the women who have soft play scheduled between sensory play and naptime. The women that dedicate their every breathing moment to being a mother. The ones that won’t leave their kid with an iPad for four hours just so they can get some work done. 


See I tried all that. And after forty dedicated minutes of chasing Esme around a frowsy smelling soft play, whilst wearing a steel boned corset and full circle skirt, I learned two things: firstly I needed to buy some jeans, secondly, I’m just not that kind of gal. Whilst I knew I wouldn't be retuning to the normal 9-5 anytime soon, I knew for sure that I was going to stay busy. With a cake business already off the ground, I was gonna stack my playtime cash through that and learn new things. My time in publishing really made me want to finesse the design side of things. I would re-ignite my youtube channel and actually learn anything other than the auto settings on a DSLR. In my spare time I would design business cards, websites and clothes. I would do it all.


And I have, I mean I am. Right now I’m writing this post, just uploaded a vlog, checked the deposits on cake orders and before bed I need to direct a new client to the best hosting services. But the only problem with doing it all is that there is no one name for all of that. So when people ask me what I do, I clam up, my heart races and my eyes dance as I try to find any word other than ‘creative’ to sum up what the fuck is going on here. 

But in the heat of the moment, I lose it all and i just find myself saying ‘I’m a stay ay home mum.’ and in that moment I watch what was a fire of interest turn into muddy ashes of boredom quicker than it takes me to drink the entire glass of whatever I’m holding. 

Then as quick as their fire outed, mine expands, engulfing their entire pre conceived notions about being a Stay at home mum. Once I reel off my accomplishments, clients and current commitments, I feel esteemed again. The power is back with me, the heat in their minds restored and we can all go home feeling as though we’ve won. 

But as soon as I’m in a safe space, I feel wretched. I feel like I don’t deserve my kid cause there is so much I still want to do and I feel like I don't stick up for the SAHM crew enough. 

Why does a job title or lack thereofbother me?

‘Job titles don’t pay bills!’ Papa B always says.


It’s an earthling thing, a human thing. A way to put our peers in a pecking order from CEO to cleaner. Whilst we are taught to respect everyone no matter their title, we would all rather be the CEO. When it comes to being a SAHM you are now an unpaid maid to the love of your life but that doesn’t mean that you don't have your own. Life, not maid. (if you do have a maid you should've stopped reading three paragraphs back) Add the pressures of ‘How old are you?’ into the mix and it all gets a little too much for me. 

I’m 29. I spend a lot of time fucking about on my laptop. And I’m a mum. I see how that doesn't sit well within the idea of ‘success’ 

But without wanting to go to deep, it really does boil down to what we personally derive success to be. I was watching the home girl FemmeHead (get into her everything. A video of hers made me dump hormonal contraceptives so I’m forever indebted) and it was like she was sent through my iPhone just to cool me down. 

She like me, is riding many a pony. And when one pony is sick that doesn't mean it’s dead, it just needs time to recover. But even if said pony does die, there are more ponies. And thats how I feel about all of these ‘things’ I’m doing. I’m just lining up ponies. 

Now once could say ‘but doesn't that make you a jack of all trades and a master of none?’ And I have to pause and acknowledge that they’re right. It’s not too late to be a doctor. But I feel like we’re too far gone for that. 

See I like all my ponies. And i’m even more encouraged to see that my ponies allow me to eat. They aren't just empty hobbies, they are jobs. Most of them don’t pay at the same time and the biggest one doesn’t pay at all but I like my life right now.

So with that I would say, I am master at something. I am a master pony rider!

And apart from a sore ass and headache, there ain’t a thing wrong with that. 

* the t-shirt I'm wearing is by the fantastic @winterandrain for which I am a brand rep. 15% of each sale is given to Women's Refuge, a charity very close to my heart.