The job I wouldn't quit for quids

My new, full-time job has surprised me with its intensity. Who'd have thought choosing to be a stay-at-home mum would leave me a withered wreck at day's end with hardly two brain cells left to rub together? Then sleep before the whole relentless cycle begins again the following day.

I'm not a single parent – God bless those who are!, but my partner's job requires him to be away a lot, which leaves me at home minding our two young children: Morgan, nearly five and at preschool three days a week, and Ayla, nearly two, entirely in my care.

When I first decided to take on my new job, I imagined a more relaxed life after the hectic juggle of work and childcare I undertook last year, which left me a stressed out freak with a twitch in my right eye. Yet, when my partner went on a two-and-a-half-week tour recently, it surprised me when I broke down in tears on the phone as he raced back to Sydney from Melbourne. I promised myself I wouldn't do it – he'd be home soon enough, but when I saw a missed call from him on my mobile phone, I called back, and it poured forth.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"The kids are soooo intense," I cried. 

It'd been one of those weeks with children when everything implodes: my daughter decided she didn't want to take her daily nap; my son whinged and cried every time I asked him to do something; then we all got sick with a 24-hour gastro thingy. 

Mostly, though, it was my naivety that was my true downfall. I foolishly thought I could look after two children with no help at all, which meant no time for me to do those things I need to do to recharge, refresh, renew and revive: yoga, write, contemplate, meditate... and groom (I need all the help I can get nowadays as the wrinkles start to show and the body starts to sag).

The only thing I did do was get onto Facebook most nights and see what my 'friends' were up to, and have the occasional chat. Not the most intellectually stimulating, but perfect for a mushy brain that has played and argued with kids the day through. 

The juggle of work and childcare over the past three years was stressful, but it kept my brain active and stimulated. I wouldn't say looking after children is boring, but it requires a different set of 'intellectual' skills: the enthusiasm to read kids books over and over again to my daughter, the patience to play kids games over and over again with my son, and, of course, the endurance to keep up with the constant demands, when what I really want to do is sloth on the lounge and read the paper.

It's little surprise that women fought to get out of the home and into the workforce, and it didn't take long for the economy to take advantage of this, with it virtually impossible today to pay off a mortgage on only one income. Lucky, it seems, I don't have one. (A mortgage, that is.)

A stay-at-home parent in our modern age is unusual, in many instances impossible (that darn mortgage to pay – or at least a damn good excuse not to return to the home on a full-time basis!), so I feel lucky to have been allowed the opportunity. Like any job, it has its many pleasures – in fact, no job has given me greater pleasure – and its frustrations, mostly when I am hankering for some time out, or I'm trying to do something with the kids shouting in the background, my nerves starting to frazzle. I become a snappy, snarky nag. Yet, I've worked out a way to get some more 'me' time and have just begun to put it into practice. 

I've started to connect with other stay-at-home mums and we do a 'swap'. I've already gone to yoga, and I plan to use the beauty voucher I received for my birthday soon. Might even go for a massage or do a meditation class. It can only ever be random moments stolen every now and again, yet each second that is my own I promise to cherish. I shall inhale the calm and take time to give thanks for a life that is blessed with two divine cherubs. 

Now is just a word, it has no power

Eckhart Tolle's book The Power of Now has sold millions around the world, has appeared on The New York Time's prominent bestseller list in top spot, and has been translated into 30 languages. I was given the book years ago but I've never read it. The good news is, now that I have young children I won't have to. 

On a walk through the streets of Bondi with my 22-month-old daughter, it takes 30 minutes to take a trip that I usually do in five. My daughter's fascination with and exploration of dirt, sticks, stairs, pebbles, brick fences (she has to walk along every one) and any other bit of debris that catches her eyes, keeps her immersed in everything but the task at hand – to get up the street to do Mummy's chores!   

I plead with her: "This way, beautiful", "No, not up there", "C'mon, honey, let's go". But for her there is only one moment and that's the one she's in.

My four-year-old son also likes to dawdle and pick up bits of garbage off the street, or big sticks. Like the three-metre stick he found today and tried to drag up the road; a young man side-stepped around him, fearful he may be castrated.

"No, you can't take that with you. Put it down. Now!"

Like my daughter, my son is immersed in the moment, until I drag him out of his moment into my own. They might be immersed in the 'now', but I have an appointment with a projected future. 

I've often wondered about Eckhart's book, The Power of Now. Or the title at least. What's so powerful about 'now'? And why do so many people hanker for its supposed 'power'? I've read in many New Age treatises that 'now' is the only moment we have because the past is gone and the future is not yet here, but as far as I can see, the past and the future inform the 'now' – always. Take the above example. The 'now' was informed by my projected future... I had things to do and places to go, and my kids were on that journey with me.

Sure, on same days, I have the time to look at the world through the eyes of my children, marvelling at the many small things that they find pleasurable and fun: crabs in the rock pool at the beach, daddy long leg spiders in the bathroom, the contents of Mummy's wallet and many other such wonderful things that they find new and delightful.

Yet, even my 22-month-old daughter has started to recognise the power of the past. Without it, how would she ever learn how to walk or talk? Past experience informs her present moment, her 'now', whenever she goes to the bookshelf and gets out her favourite nursery rhyme book. She wants to read it again and again and again because through past experience she knows that she enjoys it, and every time we read it, she picks up and repeats new words. 

Habits inform much of human behaviour, old ones die, new ones arise as we age, but I challenge anyone to show me a moment lived that hasn't been informed by the past... or the future.

My daughter is still a little hazy on the future, but my son's got it down. Where would I be if I didn't have the future to play with? One of my favourite sayings as a parent of young children is: "No, you can't have that [insert object of desire to use as bribe here, ie. piece of chocolate, ice cream, new scooter, latest computer game] now, you have to wait until you [insert end result you want to achieve here, ie. clean up your toys, get dressed, eat your vegetables, do your homework]."

So, please don't give me any of that "yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift, that's why we call it the present" shit. At times, I don't feel as though I can make it through 'now'; it's the power of the past and the promise of the future that gets me through. Like the other day when my daughter had a tantrum on a bus, full of people. I wanted to be anywhere else but in that moment. Yet, past experience assured me that I would get through the moment, that it would indeed pass, and the promise of the future buoyed me. My daughter would soon be in bed for her afternoon nap and I could sit down and enjoy a hot cup of tea and a few moments to myself... 

... and that's exactly what I did.