From School Runs to Creating a Way of Working That’s Truly Ours
A Hong Kong mum in the UK reflects on motherhood, identity, and building something new—between school runs, late nights, and the fragments in between.
This is the first post of Lion Mama Monday.
Every Monday, I hope to use this space to write from a mother’s perspective—sharing the emotional highs and lows of parenting, and how, amidst the demands of family life, we gradually learn to reclaim ourselves.
This journey begins with my own story.
Who am I?
My name is Jenny. I’m originally from Hong Kong and now based in Manchester, UK.
I’ve worked across Hong Kong, China, and Europe in marketing strategy and business development, with a focus on supporting and nurturing Hong Kong brands and startups as they grow and expand into international markets. I’m skilled at thinking and communicating across cultures, and I enjoy using language to connect people from different backgrounds.
What I do best is starting from scratch—transforming an idea, whether a business project, educational content, or an innovative programme, into something visible, actionable and sustainable.
And I’ve always loved children. My son is, without doubt, the only person in my life—past or future—who could persuade me to step away from a career I loved and become a full-time mum.
What was supposed to be a short break ended up lasting far, far longer than I had planned.
When Hong Kong Went into Lockdown, I Chose to Learn and Teach from Scratch
During the pandemic, Hong Kong went into lockdown.
At the time, my son was in a critical stage of brain development—young enough that every day counted, and every moment mattered. But schools were closed, extracurricular activities suspended, and outdoor play restricted. There was virtually no sensory stimulation available to support his development.
I knew that if this phase was mishandled, the long-term impact on his growth could be significant and irreversible.
So I launched what I called my “Saving Private Bryan” project—if no one else could help my child, I would. I taught him Chinese, English phonics (yes, I learnt it myself first), maths, cognitive skills, sensory play… everything, from the ground up.
Those days felt incredibly long. Every day was a quiet battle, one after another, until three years had passed. Then one day, we said: enough. We left Hong Kong and started a new chapter in the UK.
Fortunately, all that effort was not in vain. After arriving, my son adapted quickly to his new school, and soon became the first student in his class to become a free reader in English.
Going Back to Work—And Realising It Wasn’t Just About Finding a Job
I began easing back into work—school runs during the day, and in the evenings, I supported confidential new projects across Europe for my company. My colleagues in London and across the European continent were brilliant, and I truly enjoyed the collaboration.
But I found myself growing increasingly exhausted. Parenting, housework, school runs, combined with the non-stop rhythm of remote work—after a while, I could hardly breathe.
The issue wasn’t the nature of the work itself, or that I couldn’t find a more flexible, less demanding role near home in Manchester. I knew I could—if I wanted to.
But deep down, I kept asking myself:
If the world ends tomorrow, what do I most regret not doing today?
Do I regret never trying to pursue what I truly believe in?
Have I really used my talents and resources—and the peace and freedom I now have in the UK—to create something that truly matters?
A Mother’s Time Is Fragmented—But Creativity Lives in Those Cracks
I began using every small window of time after school drop-offs to conduct research, develop characters, and plan lessons. At night, I would test technology, refine platform structure, and integrate content.
I dreamed up dialogue while washing dishes, scribbled sentence structures while waiting at the school playground, and mapped out lesson objectives over coffee at Costa.
These scattered moments gradually formed my new rhythm of work—one shaped by my professional experience, but grounded in the reality of being a mum.
I still miss the days when I could work freely, without interruption—when I could write for as long as I wanted, think for as long as I needed. But I’ve learnt to make choices, and to create meaning within the limits I now live with.
Women Are Made of Many Roles
I’ve always believed that womanhood is multi-faceted.
We can be professionals giving our best at work.
We can also be the “silly” or “crazy” mums our children see us as.
And we can be the quiet, steady presence cooking meals, doing laundry, keeping things together.
We don’t have to let go of one part of ourselves to honour another.
We deserve to live and create at a rhythm that is truly our own.
Thank You to Those Who Chose to Walk with Me
I want to thank every early tester and supporter from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you for joining when the platform was still under construction—for tolerating features built at 2am, for pointing out the little things I missed, and for helping me carry on through so many silent nights.
I know it’s not easy to trust something new—to use a platform that promises to deliver new content every Friday while still being built behind the scenes. That takes not only curiosity and courage, but also a willingness to give someone a chance.
Your trust has meant the world to me—and it has been the reason I’ve kept going.
I’m Actually a Functional Introvert
People often assume I’m outgoing and expressive—that I’m comfortable in front of the camera or on social media.But in truth, I’m a classic functional introvert—someone who can speak when needed, who’s willing to share, but who thrives in quiet and reflection.
My life motto has always been: “Be loud in your work. Stay quiet in yourself.”
I’ve always been good at promoting projects—but not so much at promoting myself. Still, maybe this is the time. Maybe it’s time to say something—not just for myself, but for others who might need to hear it too.
The Reality of Hong Kong Mums in the UK
Many Hong Kong women, like me, have moved to the UK with children—only to find ourselves navigating a completely different life structure and set of responsibilities. Our careers pause. Our identities blur. The rhythm we once knew doesn’t fit anymore.
But I believe we can break out of old structures and redefine our own pace.
A pace where we’re no longer bound by time.
No longer boxed in by roles.
Where we can create steadily, and move forward with courage.
If Little Lions Rising does one day truly take flight, I hope it won’t just be a language learning platform. I hope it will also become a space for other women—especially those managing school runs and the quiet weight of motherhood—to rise, create, and fly again, in their own time and in their own way.
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