You Don't Hate Playing With Your Kids. You Hate Doing It on an Empty Tank.

If you've ever thought I don't enjoy playing with my kids, usually around 5pm with nothing left, this is for you.

I'm a qualified teacher. I teach early childhood development to student teachers, and I sit on the panel that decides whether they're ready for a classroom. I can tell you exactly why play matters for a growing brain.

And there was a stretch when I'd be playing with my daughter and not be there at all.

I had documents to write for my lawyers. Work to do. Marking for uni. A pile of important things I couldn't do with a toddler in the room. So I'd be playing with her, and the whole time everything on that list was stressing me out.

I never dreaded playing with her. I just couldn't do it and stop thinking about everything else.

I knew all the theory. It didn't help.

Picture a sweet little toddler, grinning angelically up at you from the middle of the freshly painted living room, covered head to toe in bright red acrylic paint.

Most of us feel our blood pressure spike at the mere thought. Parents need tongue insurance to cover the chunks missing from how often we're forced to bite down. Meanwhile the words we're holding back scribble across the inside of our skulls:

For the love of God, WHY!?

Of all the colours you had to choose from!?

We need to talk about Kevin.

That proud little toddler couldn't care less about the rug. They're too busy making their glorious, messy, bright red mark on the world.

Somewhere along the way, we started to believe that every mess needs a serious meeting, and that feeling better has to be serious to be real. Fix everything, work hard, earn joy later.

I had it backwards. Eckhart Tolle is the teacher who cracked it open for me, with the idea that resistance is information. So I asked what all that stress was telling me. It wasn't telling me I was a bad mum. It was telling me I was here with her, and wishing I was over there with the list.

Play isn't the reward for feeling better. It's how you get there.

The first time it left me feeling better, I caught the resistance as it came up. And instead of fighting it, I made a choice. I stopped stressing about what wasn't happening, and looked at what was happening and what was good about it.

What was happening was this. I was walking the paddocks with my daughter. She collected rocks. I felt the sun on my skin and the breeze, and I didn't entertain anyone. We put music on and danced in the kitchen. We built fairy gardens. We made mess on purpose.

It was my time as much as hers.

Do this with me now, before you read on.

Think of the person, pet or plant you love most in the world. Picture them. Notice what happens in your chest or your belly. Warmth, maybe butterflies.

Can you feel it? Because if you can, you are happy. Right now. You did it, and you didn't have to earn it first.

Tonight at 5pm, pick one of these. You lead. They join in, or they don't.

• One song in the kitchen. Your music, not theirs. Dance while the pasta boils.

• A slow walk with no destination. They collect rocks. You feel the sun on your face.

• Side by side. They "help" hang the washing. Nobody has to be entertained.

• Mess on purpose. Mud, water, paint outside. A mess you chose feels different from a mess that ambushed you.

• Shoes off. Bare feet on the grass for two minutes, both of you.

In 2010, Professor Ruth Feldman's team at Bar-Ilan University watched 112 mothers and fathers play with their four-to-six-month-old babies for 15 minutes. Mothers who were warm and affectionate during that play showed a rise in oxytocin afterwards. Mothers who showed little affection didn't.

Those were babies, not toddlers, and one study is never the last word. But it matches what I felt in the paddock. The game matters less than the warmth in it.

And my own proof? Now, when I don't feel fine, I don't get snappy. I get curious. Am I PMSing? Where am I in my cycle? Is my thyroid medication working? Did I remember my iron and my multivitamin? I use those icky afternoons as information.

Then I tell Emmi I feel rough, and we work out how to get out of the rut together. She often has ideas. "Oh! I know!" she'll say. "Why don't I get Fluttershy to make you a snack and you'll feel much better?"

It's so sweet and caring that I choose to notice it. And I choose to stay in that moment and let the happy feeling override the bad one.

Do I still snap? Yes. But very, very rarely at Emmi.

You might be thinking: that's lovely, but I'm touched out and I've got nothing left. What I need is a break.

You're right. Breaks help, and if one's on offer, take it. But if you're a single mum with no village nearby, the break isn't arriving at 5pm on a Tuesday.

So start smaller than feels meaningful. One song. Do it badly. Forget for a week, then start again. That isn't failing.

This won't turn you into a mum who never snaps. It makes the snaps fewer and the repair quicker. You don't have to fix yourself before you're allowed to enjoy your kids.

If 5pm is your hardest hour, I've made a free guide for exactly that time of day. Sanity at Sundown: 7 Ways to Stop the Sundown Meltdown is seven small practices you can do with your kids right there. Get it here.

Anna writes from Yabberup, in the South West of Western Australia, where she lives with her daughter, the horses and the rest of the animals.

If today is more than a hard day, Lifeline is on 13 11 14, any time.