Why Starting a Business as a Mum Is Blooming Hard

(And Nobody Warns You)

You know that moment. Both kids are finally at school, the house goes quiet at 9am, and you think: right, this is it. This is my time.

Cue the imaginary slow-motion montage — you, striding into your "office" (the kitchen table, cleared of Weetabix debris for once), laptop open, coffee still hot, ready to finally launch that freelance career you've been dreaming about since approximately 2019.

Reader, I regret to inform you: that montage lasts about eleven minutes. Then someone's school rings because little Alfie has "a temperature and also possibly says his leg hurts but he's also asking about lunch" and you're back in the car park by 10:15am wondering where your empire went.

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The School Holiday Ambush

Just when you've got a rhythm going — a proper one, with a to-do list and everything — here comes half term, sauntering in like it wasn't clearly marked on the calendar for the last six weeks. Suddenly you're not "growing a business," you're "Head of Entertainment, Snacks and Referee Services" for two children who are somehow bored within four minutes of a two-week holiday.

And it's not just holidays, is it. It's the dentist. The eye test you forgot about. The random Tuesday sickness bug that goes round the entire class like it's contractually obligated to hit your house last. It's the washing that multiplies when you're not looking, and the low hum of guilt that follows you into every "work session," whispering shouldn't you be doing something more mum-shaped right now?

Starting a business while parenting is basically trying to build a house while the ground keeps randomly turning into a bouncy castle.

Then You Build The Website Yourself (Bless)

But you're resourceful, aren't you. You are a WOMAN WHO GETS THINGS DONE, even if "things" currently include finding a matching sock and simultaneously answering an email. So you sit down over three exhausted evenings, wrestle with a website builder that promises it's "so easy anyone can do it," and somehow emerge with a site.

It's got your logo (a font you agonised over for 45 minutes). It's got your services listed. It's even got a little "About Me" section where you wrote something heartfelt at 11pm and cried a bit, if we're honest.

You hit publish. You feel unstoppable. You picture the enquiries rolling in.

They do not roll in.

Because nobody mentions when you're excitedly picking a colour scheme: a website existing is not the same as a website working. It's not showing up on Google. Nobody's sharing it. Your social media is three posts deep and the last one was a stock photo of a laptop with the caption "Watch this space!"

You've built a lovely little shop in the middle of a field with no road leading to it.

This Is Genuinely Not Your Fault

I want to be really clear about something: building a business, raising humans, and becoming a self-taught web designer and social media strategist on top of it all is not a reasonable ask. It's three full-time jobs wearing a trench coat pretending to be one. You are not disorganised, you are not "bad at marketing," you are just extremely, completely out of hours in the day.

Something has to give — and it really shouldn't be your business dream, and it definitely shouldn't be your last remaining brain cell.

So, Here's My Actual Point (Sorry, I Know, An Advert Snuck Into My Funny Blog)

This is why I do what I do. I manage websites and social media for small businesses — the kind run by people like you, who have brilliant ideas and precisely zero spare hours between the school run and the washing pile — starting from just £250 a month.

I'll be honest: it's an investment, not a magic bean. But it's the kind of investment that means your website actually gets found, your socials don't go quiet for three months while life happens (because life will always happen), and you get to go back to doing the bit you're actually good at — running your business — instead of googling "why is my website not on Google" at midnight.

If any of this sounded a bit too familiar, come say hello at vanessagentry.com. I've got the coffee, the spreadsheets, and a healthy respect for anyone doing this juggling act.

Sending solidarity (and probably a snack, if I've got one spare) —

Vanessa A very tired mum who also happens to build websites for a living