If you're a parent working in advertising, a plethora of competing pressures combined with the pace of work can be absolute carnage. To my mind, this is especially so if you're a creative, and even more so, a woman.

A good creative is passionate. You want to work. You like it. You find it exciting. But you also want to sleep, see your family, and stop rust forming on your joints.

Our first child arrived just before COVID. What was a horrible time for so many, in so many ways, was, in terms of time with my family, a blessing. The arrival of our second child was harder in every conceivable way; emotionally, practically, and professionally. In my experience, and from speaking to friends who are parents, going from 0 to 1 child is about a 6/10 difficulty. But going from 1 to 2 is a solid 10/10. For the first 18 months after child number two, I felt like I was drowning, and I know Anna, my wife, did, too. Behind on everything, failing at everything, never enough time for anything, or anyone.

We were exhausted. As a Type-A character, for me, that meant constant disappointment in my work, my ability to be a father to my children, and a husband and friend to Anna. There’s so much guilt. You love this new little person, and you know how blessed you are. You want to be a great parent. But exhaustion distracts from your ability to do the job you love - and need - to provide for your family.

The need to be frank

The only way we got through it was very frequent, very ‘not-easy’ communication. That led to some brutally honest but necessary management of expectations, and setting of boundaries - between work, home, parenting, and being a couple.

No one likes a frank conversation. But I’ve never found these more important nor more productive than the ones Anna and I had while figuring out the labyrinth that is two kids, jobs in advertising in London, whilst living in the middle of nowhere in Cambridgeshire. It is, however, simply a necessity, so that you can agree on what you want life to look like as a team.

A pause for thought

Then there’s the fact that, like all creatives, I’m always thinking – always pondering and pontificating, on client work, odd experiments, proactive stuff, things that just feel funny. Pre-kids, the cost of that was lower. There was the luxury of time. When I was with Anna, my head was almost always with her. And when it occasionally wasn’t, she was always happy to hear an idea or build on it. I also love making her laugh. So, the temptation to think of funny things to share with her is strong.

But now we have kids, the pressure gauge on being present is at max. Drawing the line between work and home isn’t easy, especially in a hybrid world. But, somewhat surprisingly, it’s made my approach to work much healthier.

When I’m working, I’m focused. And when I’m home, I’m really home. I don’t want to waste a second in either mode.

This makes for intense days. And it probably makes me intense to work with. But it also means that when I’m done, I’m done. I can be fully present with my family.

The advantage of lived experience

I’ve found that, if you're a parent and a creative, it can feel like you're being stretched to infinitesimal levels between two worlds that are miles apart. But the truth is, you’re expanding in both. Your raw material is insight, and the machine that makes genuine insight is real, lived experience.

It’s chaos, it’s noise, it’s a hundred things needing you at once. But it sharpens something in you. You learn to prioritise under pressure, make faster decisions, and feel things more deeply. I don’t see weakness in that, I see a supercharged creative.

Is it a perfect fit for family life? Certainly not. But it can be a great way to earn a living without putting your soul in a coffee grinder. 

And of course, there's always going to be the occasional late night. But that's understandable, provided it's not a predictable pattern. 

While uncomfortable honesty is, unsurprisingly, not easy, you won’t look back once you’ve made a habit of it. 

Because you can love your job, take it extremely seriously, and work extremely hard… whilst also knowing that nothing you present in a boardroom matters more than what’s happening in your living room. No idea, no deck, no client drama is more important than the people you’re doing this all for. That might be children. It might be your partner, your parents, or your siblings.

If someone you work with can’t respect that, maybe they shouldn’t be someone you work with any more?