Here’s a confession I don’t make lightly: sometimes I fantasise about stepping back from work for the next few years to be 100 per cent present for my daughters.
Not unusual, you might think, except my “babies” are 17 and 12, and I’ve always been such a career woman that I didn’t even take maternity leave with my younger daughter – I went straight back to work in my hospital room, insisting I was “role modelling” for the newborn sleeping beside me.
More than a decade on, I’m still role modelling, but I don’t mind admitting that I’m also slowly being buried by the weight of what it means to balance a full-time career with the needs of modern-day teens.
Appointments and school events are being slotted in between deadlines, and I’m setting 3am alarms to help with assignments when I’m overseas for work.
A 24-hour chauffeur? Yes, but there’s also the work emails and parents’ WhatsApp group chats at weekend sports, the mid-laundry voice notes and the never-ending barrage of communications from the school.
The fact that my girls want to workshop their emotions the minute I’ve slid into bed late at night? No wonder the fantasy of reducing my work hours has started taking hold.
The Rise of Teen-ternity
Teen-ternity: it’s a cute name for when a parent (yep, usually mum) either takes a prolonged career break or drastically reduces her hours to be more available during a time when developing brains are wired for risk, emotional volatility and social sensitivity.
While there is no hard data to show just how many Australian mothers are pressing pause on their careers to prioritise their teens, parenting educators say it’s a movement that’s gaining traction.
“I’m hearing about it more and more, but I will say that it’s mostly mums from middle- and upper-class neighbourhoods whose children attend either selective or private schools who are choosing this option,” says Dr Justin Coulson, co-host and parenting expert on Channel 9’s Parental Guidance and author of Boys.
“There’s always been a large percentage of mothers who want to be there for the school assemblies, the swimming carnivals and the friendship upsets, but much of whether they can depends on the support they have at home and whether it’s financially possible.”
For Dianne Dumanovic, a PR maven and owner of a personal brand agency, dropping down to part-time hours two years ago to support her three sons – now aged 19, 16 and 13 – felt like the right choice for her family.
Although logistics played a role, much of it stemmed from the realisation that time was fleeting. “My eldest starting his final year of school was definitely the catalyst. During a year of lasts – the last sports day, the last exam – I was an emotional rollercoaster and realised how quickly this stage flies by,” she recalls. “So, selfishly, I want to soak up this time being more present than ever for my other two boys.” For other mums, stepping away isn’t a desire, but a necessity.
Music teacher Bronwyn Kay* made the decision to walk away from her “dream job” last year after the needs of her neurodivergent teens, 13 and 14, intensified post-pandemic.
“I held on for as long as I could, but in the end I was missing so many days of school and showing up late to just as many medical appointments that it felt like I was failing both my students and my family,” she says. “I was always stressed and riddled with guilt, so it made sense to call time.”
The Cost of Stepping Back
Evidence suggests kids benefit from having parents who lean in during the teenage years. We know, for example, that quality time together reduces the risk of depression, and gives parents ample opportunity to teach essential life skills, such as effective emotional control and efficient decision-making.
Yet, we also know that Australian women are retiring with about 30 per cent less super than men, a disparity driven by gender pay gaps, unequal career opportunities and, yes, career interruptions.
Step away completely and there’s the risk of skill depreciation and network atrophy, as well as a shift in household power dynamics. As a gen-X kid whose parents practised a largely absent parenting style common for the time, I can’t help but wonder whether my (neurotypical) girls actually need me as much as I’m led to believe.
“Not at all,” Coulson says. “First of all, for decades, kids have managed to navigate this stage of their lives with whatever support a parent can provide, and secondly, this style of parenting where we hover and push all obstacles out of the way prevents kids from learning how to become independent and manage themselves.”
But surely today’s teens have got it harder than we ever did? After all, they not only have the age-old teen concerns, but social media, climate change and post-pandemic trauma, too. Michelle Mitchell, parenting educator, author and speaker, isn’t buying it.
“I think it’s a nice marketing pitch that sits well with millennial parents in particular, who want everything to seem hard,” she says. “But let’s face it, ‘hard’ is having your eldest sons go off to war, or having only enough money to feed your kids bread and drippings.
I don’t want to minimise the challenges today’s teens face, but if we say that parenting teens today is much harder than it’s ever been, we dig ourselves into a hole where we throw up our hands in surrender – and that doesn’t help anyone.”
Finding Balance
Chatting with Kay, who says her children have “blossomed” since she stopped work, it’s clear that teen-ternity leave has its place. “The household runs like clockwork, and now that the kids feel that I’m more relaxed, they’ve relaxed, too.
It’s like we’ve finally found our rhythm,” she says. For Dumanovic, it’s enabled her to rethink success and redesign her life accordingly. “I still kick goals for my clients. That hasn’t changed. I’m still ambitious,” she says. “For me, success is no longer just about how much I earn, how many clients I have or how busy I am; it’s about being able to do meaningful work while also being present for my family in the season they need me most, and that feels like the biggest achievement of all.”
For the rest of us, either unsure, unable or unwilling to step off the hamster wheel, Coulson says the best way to support our teens without disrupting our careers is to simply let them know we are there if and when required.
“My wife and I have already put four of our children through the HSC and we always tell them that we’re not going to ask how they’re going with their assignments or get on their case about homework, but we’ll check in and ask if there’s any way that we can support them.” Mitchell agrees. “Hovering with needy energy doesn’t work because teens can interpret this as a need to control,” she explains.
“But if there’s one thing I wouldn’t compromise on, it’s being on call to play Uber because it’s not only about safety, but about having those key conversations that keep you in the loop.”
In the end, I gather my girls to get their hot take on how they’d feel if I reduced my hours. “So we’d be broke and you’d be stressed, but then you’d be around us all the time carrying this horrible energy?” my eldest cleverly deduces. “Sounds fun.” And just like that, my teen-ternity application is rejected by the very people it’s designed to serve. Weirdly, I couldn’t be more relieved.
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