ON PARENTING: Beyond Being an "Efficient Mother"

nic anderson earth
Jun 30
4 min read

School holidays have just begun (I can't believe we're already halfway through this year), and yesterday morning my eldest daughter and I found ourselves having one of those unexpected conversations whilst making breakfast together.

When the girls were around five years old, I read something that stopped me in my tracks — and I've found myself reflecting on it ever since.

The article suggested that in this age of increasingly isolated parenting, many mothers become efficient mothers.

That was certainly me.

My Capricorn Ascendant is strong in my chart. I am good at structure, organisation and efficiency.

My children were always fed, clothed appropriately, warm, loved, and exposed to a wide range of experiences — swimming, gymnastics, music, dance, playgroups, sport, friendships and community.

But an efficient mother does not necessarily translate to an earth mother. Nor does it automatically create joy, a deeply mutual bond , or a relationship where mother and child genuinely enjoy each other's company and share many common interests.

The article spoke about mothers emerging from those heavily dependent years — birth to around eight or nine — realising they had given parenting absolutely everything, yet discovering they shared very little in common with their children beyond the role itself.

The relationship between parent and child goes through a significant shift at around age nine. Part of my realisation has been that mothers and parents need to actively redefine their relationship with their child at this stage, and begin seeking genuine shared interests.

By this age, children become increasingly independent. They need their mothers less. Which also means mothers often find themselves with more physical and mental energy, and begin re-emerging as who they truly are — rather than existing solely in the role of "mother".

As someone with strong Scorpio placements, I've always been interested in the deeper layers of human relationships. Relationships are never one-dimensional. Everything is felt and explored through the lenses of soul, meaning and connection.

And my Sagittarius Moon is forever seeking purpose, truth, adventure and wonder.

(We are our entire chart — not simply one sign. We are inherently multidimensional.)

As Lexi and I cooked, I found myself reflecting aloud.

—-

Over many years, through both my own experience and through working with countless women and mothers, I've observed that unless a mother has substantial support — something increasingly uncommon in modern life due to migration, distance, lifestyle and changing family structures — most mothers, even those with loving partners, often carry an enormous amount largely on their own.

Many feel exhausted.

Depleted.

And for me personally, that exhaustion created a technical limitation.

Those years from birth to around age nine were filled with immense love for my children — and yet, simultaneously, I often found it difficult to simply be with them. To fully relax into enjoying them.

Not because the love wasn't there.

But because capacity wasn't.

Alongside parenting, I was also unpacking limiting beliefs and unresolved material from my own childhood.

Looking back, I can now see that being efficient is not the same thing as having one's heart fully open — to truly enjoy, receive, and exchange love.

(That, perhaps, is an entirely separate journal entry.)

So I shared with Lexi that, over the past couple of years, I've become increasingly interested in discovering what genuine shared interests my daughters and I might have — things we authentically enjoy doing together.

Lexi immediately replied:

"Come swimming with me! I do at least eight hours a week!"

I laughed.

"That's the thing about shared interests," I said. "I can't force myself to love what you love, and I can't force you to love what I do. It's partly why I've introduced you to paddling and outrigging — but ultimately, this can't be forced - it needs to nbe something we both naturally enjoy."

Lexi became quiet for a moment.

Then she said something that genuinely surprised me.

"Working on this land is one of our shared interests. I enjoy it. Painting the house, looking after the chickens, clearing the acreage, planting things, moving stuff, maintaining everything it takes to love this place. I've realised it is my home. It belongs to me too, and I want to look after it."

I was stunned.

I honestly wasn't expecting that answer. I assumed she would mention a sport or some form of athletic training.

Instead, she named stewardship .

I told her I felt this represented a genuine turning point in maturity.

—-

For years, I've spoken to both girls about chores in much the same way I speak about brushing your teeth.

If you choose to love something — or if you are fortunate enough to have something in your care — you also accept the responsibility of looking after it.

Not from obligation.

Some tasks are undeniably tedious.

But maturity involves turning the corner and embracing both the joy and the resilience required to love something well. Rather than resisting, complaining, or endlessly trying to escape the work involved.

I've been calling this process "adulting up" since the girls were age five —

You can pretend to help.

You can complain your way through.

Or you can grow up internally, and come to genuinely respect and care for your environment — understanding that the health of your relationships is directly influenced by the care you give to the spaces you inhabit.

—-

Both Lexi and Georgina have long embraced their household responsibilities.

But hearing Lexi describe caring for our home as something she genuinely enjoys felt different.

It felt like another layer of adulthood quietly arriving.

And that, as a parent, was deeply moving.

Perhaps this is one of the great invitations of parenting.

Not simply to raise children.

But to continuously allow our relationships with them to evolve.

To move from caregiving, to companionship.

From management, to genuine connection.

From obligation, to shared meaning.

Because our children are not static beings.

Nor are we.

And perhaps part of Soul Embodiment involves recognising that healthy relationships — whether with our children, partners, friends, communities or ourselves — require continual redefinition as we grow.