Being the fun parent isn’t always easy, especially when life demands responsibility and routine. Many Australian parents face the challenge of balancing fun with practical parenting duties while trying to connect meaningfully with their children. parenting advice. Raising Children Network.
What You Need to Know About Fun Parent Challenges
What if you can only but not
What if, like me, you were a grown-up at birth?
What if you find playtime a bit spooky, jokes don’t work, and it’s more appealing to attend a Latin mass than another round of pretending we’re puppies?
That’s me. It’s me. I’m a parent who is always on the go. I’m the responsible parent. The predictable one. It’s the one who remembers the gas bill, knows where to find the immunisation record, packs snacks, wipes the nose of the baby, and has packed the snacks. I tuck everyone in at night, set out the school clothes for tomorrow, and mentally count how many vegetables each person has eaten. baby care. Australian immunisation schedule.
It’s not me, the fun parent. Oh, I would like to be.
Uneven Parenting Roles: I’m Not the Fun Parent
My husband is “fun” in our home. He can be and play with my children. He is a player. He jokes. He enjoys the smallest, silliest moments. He laughs with real joy when he watches Minions, shows our daughter how coins work at the supermarket, and does not flinch even when the baby spits on him.
I am always in a hurry. It’s never a dull moment. There is always something to do. A bottle to sterilise or a form to fill out at school, laundry to fold or dishes to wash. When we go out, I mentally check off a list of things: sunscreen, hats and sunglasses, water bottles, and extra snacks. I can’t turn off the internal checklist, and it’s starting to cost me.
I sprint to bed like an Olympic hurdler.
Teeth brushed. jump.
Jump in your jammies
Read the story. Jump.
I then collapse on the couch and drink a glass (or, let’s face it, a bottle of wine) of water while praying that the baby will stay asleep for long enough to allow me to watch an episode of Selling Sunset. If I don’t fall asleep before the credits start.
Do other mums feel this way?
Am I the only one who is experiencing this?
As I scroll through photos of mums having messy play, jumping up and down on trampolines or setting up themed breakfasts with sprinkles of rainbow, I feel a pang of guilt. No Pinterest board exists for my parenting style. The way I juggle a dinner plate while simultaneously bouncing my baby on one hip, and asking my 4-year-old child to stop licking the refrigerator, is not aesthetic.
Somewhere along my journey, I picked up the idea that being a good mum meant being funny. Energetic. Whimsical. Willing to be pirates in the morning.
Here’s another thing: I know that I am not lazy. Or disengaged. Or cold. I am one of the most invested mothers that I know. I have given my heart and soul to them. My life revolves around them. Do I have to entertain my children, too?
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Why can’t I relax when I have a mental load?
The invisible part. This is the part that nobody posts about. It’s the part that, and many other mums, find so difficult to “let go.”
The Mental Load.
The thing that keeps track of what size shoes each person wears, who prefers which snack, when was the last time we poop, if we have enough wipes and if we remember to RSVP for the Saturday birthday party. It’s the same mental load which allows my husband, who is a very logical person, to walk past the clean laundry pile on the couch, without giving it a second glance, while I am unable to sit down until the laundry has been folded, sorted and put away. (Properly. (Not just “stuffed in drawers”).
After dinner, I would like to run in the backyard. I want to run around the backyard after dinner. I really do. But I’m trapped. But I’m stuck.
Multitasking – A blessing and a curse
My daughter folds my laundry. She stirs the pasta as she stands on a chair beside me at the stove. She sometimes brings out her wooden computer and “works” next to me as I type.
This is our way of bonding. Quality time plus Productivity. Make parenting efficient.
In a sense, it makes me feel better. It’s like I am teaching her how to live. She won’t be helpless or come to me at 25 years old asking for instructions on how to boil an egg.
This isn’t what she’s going to remember. She will never look back at her mother and say, “Mum always did the dishes.” She will say, “Mum is always busy.”
It hurts.
When Joy Caught You Off-Guard
Something changed the other night. As I was tucking my daughter in for bed, I had the usual routine — three books and the same song. But suddenly, she said something unexpectedly funny, which made me laugh. actually laughed. It’s the kind of laughter that comes straight from your stomach, unfiltered and unplanned.
It felt foreign. Then it felt good. I thought that was what they meant. The joy is.
It wasn’t fake, like my phony enthusiasm at pretend tea parties. It was not a performance, as I do when I exaggerate “wow” her whenever she shows me scribbled drawings. It was real. In that moment, I saw her glow. She also knew. I wasn’t “Mum”, I was just there.
She told me that she loved the version of me I was most like.
Let Go of the “Perfect parent” Persona
I am a recovering perfectionist. Like most perfectionists, I also find comfort in structure. Routines. Systems. Order. When the house is tidy, everyone’s hair brushed, and the lunchboxes packed, I feel in charge. When I am in control, I also feel safe.
Motherhood doesn’t offer much control. It laughs at it.
I am beginning to realise that my kitchen will not crumble if the dishes are left until tomorrow. Dinner is peanut butter toast for three nights straight. No one will catch scurvy. I’m pretty sure my kids won’t require therapy just because I forgot to bring their library bag one time.
They will remember how I made them feel.
Is anyone else present?
Is it warm in here?
Did I have fun?
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Reframing what “fun” looks like
I used to believe that “fun” looked a certain way. Costumes, silly voices, and imaginary games were all part of my idea. I hate puzzles. I still avoid the playground. There may be a way to have fun that is more meaningful for me and authentic.
It could be as simple as letting your child help you bake brownies and not worrying about the mess.
After dinner, you might want to dance and blast music in the kitchen.
It could be giving them all my attention when they make a joke, even if it is a bad one.
It could be as simple as saying “yes” to more things, even when you don’t want to.
In the end, they don’t want a clown. I want to be with them.
Trading control for connection
I want to try something radical: swap control for connection.
This means that the phone is away from you more frequently.
This means choosing to live in the moment, rather than focusing on a list of tasks.
This means I have to let myself be seen, not only as “Mum,” but as a person who stumbles and laughs and tries again.
It’s a terrifying experience. It’s liberating, too. But I am becoming one. I am becoming a parent. By letting go of the idea that I have to be someone else.
What I want my daughters to know
One day, they won’t be as dependent on me as they are now. One day, my girls will be able to make their beds, wash their teeth and cereal themselves (hopefully). They won’t ask for another story, cuddle or second of my time.
When that day arrives, I do not want to look back at their childhood and realise I spent it rushing them toward bedtime.
I want to remember laughter. The dance.
I’m grateful for the spontaneous moments of happiness that I’ve experienced, but not planned or controlled.
The good stuff is too important to be missed.
Even if puzzles are your least favourite.
I can see all of you “serious parents” out there.
You are not failing. You are not broken. You are not a joyless person.
It’s still not too late if, like me, you feel the urge to be a bit looser and lighter.
Place the dish sponge on top. One more laugh? Yes, please! Let them see you as the real.
Sometimes, the best parenting is… Is the type that remembers how to be a human being, too. children’s health.
