I would prefer to blot my own copybook, plumb my own depths, dig my own holes, feather my own caps, buy my own tickets and take my own rides, string my own bow, core my own apples, grill my own steaks, draw my own conclusions, pack my own pipe, divine my own destiny, extract my own espresso, grind my own axe and make my own bed - I will, after all, be the one to lie in it. The vacuuming, ironing, dishes and laundry, however - knock yourselves out.
Blah blah parenthood blah blah self actualisation blah blah... The hardest job in the world is planting kumara (New Zealand sweet potato). They are grown from sprout cuttings - the cuttings are too fragile for machines to plant, so people have to sit on forms behind a tractor and drive the sprouts into the ploughed soil with their bare hands. This is hot dry soil. Since my days planting kumara I have been a parent, a stevedore, a freezing worker, a teacher, a learner, a fire fighter, a cowhand, a whole bunch of tricky stuff. And one thing I am never going to do EVER again is plant kumara.