I was in my mid 20s when I first thought about running my own business. I was working 7 days a week for less than I thought I was worth and my boss was stealing the credit for all my hard work. Familiar story? Yes, it happens all the time in the corporate world and I was over it.

So, as I wasted countless hours commuting to work on the train, I used to dream up names for my new business. It was going to be an advertising agency that I would want to use if I was a client.  An ethical organisation with no politics or hierarchy.  An agency that was totally focused on serving the clients with brilliant creative work!

Strangely, I never actually dreamt about the vast amounts of money the business would make for me. It wasn’t actually about the money, It was more about escaping the thankless world of corporate marketing, choosing the hours I worked and being proud about what I did. It was about being in control.

In retrospect, it was probably a good job that I didn’t dream about my business earning me bucketloads of cash. I think I just assumed that it would. At that stage, I had no idea how hard it can actually be for a small business to earn bucketloads of cash.

Fifteen years down the track, I now know that “being in control” of my life is also a goal that is very hard for a small business owner to achieve. Particularly if the owner is trying to juggle family commitments at the same time. If you’re thinking of going into business hoping for an easy life, think again.

I actually learnt this disappointing lesson very early on once I started working from home after the birth of Alex, my first baby boy.

Three months after Alex’s birth I was begging to go back to work. I totally adored my little baby but the days were just too difficult to fill after hectic pace of the working world. Productivity was a goal I mistakenly tried to apply to motherhood as a day without achievements seemed pointless and wasted.

Poor Alex. I think I tainted him for life. I would start each day with a list of tasks that we were to achieve. I was determined to be a brilliant Mum bringing up an exceptional child so I would try to stimulate all his baby senses with exciting tasks and events. I took the responsibility of helping him to reach his potential very seriously. If he was meant to be a genius, I was going to do my best to help him get there. Possibly even before the age of one.

So I would plan each day carefully. We’d start with something musical. A bit of Beethoven maybe as we danced around the lounge. Then something with a faster pace that would get his heart racing and his little body jogging up and down in his bouncer. I might even throw in a bit of opera with some Pavarotti.

Then after his emotions had been on a bit of a roller coaster ride, there would be some physical fun on the floor with Mummy-assisted leg and arm exercises. Possibly with some aeroplane rides on my legs thrown in to give me a bit of exercise at the same time.

Then with ears and exercise done, it would be time for the eyes.  Like the sight of scarves in many colours floating over him tied to a frame above. Or we’d lie under a tree so he could see the sky through the pattern of the leaves. Sometimes I’d stretch his mind (and confuse the hell out of him) by introducing him to the other Alex living behind the cold glass thing called a mirror.

After adding experiences of taste and touch to the equation, we had generally whizzed through a dozen or more activities and my poor little boy would need a break and a feed. By this time it would still only be around 10.30am. Alex would be suffering from over-stimulation which made sleep practically impossible and I had another eight and a half hours to fill before Daddy came home. When I decided to go back to work part-time, mostly from home, when Alex was six months old I think even Alex breathed a sigh of relief.

I can’t say I lasted long as a commuting Mum once I went back to work. Getting up at 3.30 in the morning to make sure he was well fed for his day at his Auntie’s was hard enough. Having to sit through meetings with breasts bursting with milk was another trauma. But the real problem was that I actually missed my little monster, being away from him for up to 14 hours a day. Even though I only went to the office one day a week, it was tough coming home to a baby who would teach me a lesson by refusing to even look at me.

The days when I worked from home were no easier. I’m not sure whether this is a girl thing but I placed such huge demands on myself that my days were probably more stressful than they needed to be. I was convinced that if people back in the office even had an inkling that I had a baby with me while I was working, they would think I was under-performing. I would be a target for criticism if anything went wrong. And I needed to be seen as the over-achiever I had always aimed to be.

I still remember the day when I believe I became the worst mother in the world in a desperate effort to hold on to my reputation as an efficient professional. This was during my “New Mum” days when my skills at juggling were still in seedling stage.

To be fair to me, Alex wasn’t actually doing his bit to make the juggling easy for me. Okay so he might have only been six months old but he could have at least tried to help me out. He was a bit too focused on his own comfort to be thinking about big picture stuff like how were we going to afford his private school fees in later life if I didn’t have time to work?

Unfortunately for me, Alex was a snacker who liked a feed every few hours and he preferred to sleep off his meal with a Mummy-snuggle. The cot was completely out of bounds. It was much more comfortable in Mummy’s warm arms.

Clearly this made working rather difficult. I had worked out a way to use the computer with a permanently attached baby and turning the printer on with my toes was a breeze. But speaking to colleagues on the phone with baby in tow was totally impractical. Although everyone knew I had a little one at home I didn’t want anyone to actually hear him! I was convinced that the men I worked with wouldn’t take me seriously if they heard me struggling to keep a baby quiet while I tried to talk marketing strategy with them.

Even now, I do think there is some truth in my concerns. Unfortunately women who try to juggle work and motherhood are often a target of criticism. It’s no easy job and we often fail.

Which brings me back to my worst failure. Or at least one of the worst as there are many.

After trying to phone the IT Manager in the office for a serious, non-baby related discussion, I settled on the sofa with Alex while I waited for him to return my call. I always hated waiting for return calls because their timings were unmanageable. And on this particular day, the call came when Alex was totally snuggled up in dreamland in my arms.

As the phone rang, I panicked. What to do with Alex? I had to take the call. This guy was hard to contact and I needed to speak with him. But I couldn’t risk Alex waking up mid-conversation. I had to put Alex down. Somewhere safe where he wouldn’t roll. The floor!

Yes, in my rush to answer the call I put my poor little boy down on the rug. And he was furious.

He started to scream the minute I picked up the phone. And I had forgotten to close the door. I tried extremely hard to sound professional as I spoke to the IT Manager but Alex’s screaming grew louder and louder. I could hardly hear the IT Manager through the noise.

So I did what any responsible mother would do. I stepped into the wardrobe, closed the door to cut out the sound of Alex’s screaming and I finished my call in the dark.

Of course I didn’t get any more work done for the remainder of that day as I felt so guilty. I had to compensate Alex by allowing him to spend the rest of the day snuggled in my arms. He soon forgave me of course but it wasn’t long before I tendered my resignation and decided to enter the world of small business.

I remember taking the long commute home from the office for the last time, looking forward to the future with excitement. At last, I would be able to enjoy the best of both worlds. Work and motherhood, each in perfect balance. No stress, no demands, no living to the call of someone else’s tune.

Or so, I mistakenly believed.