You may have noticed (or more likely have not) that I haven’t updated this blog for a long time, short of a few silent sundays. The reason is that I’ve gone back to work. And gone through the horribly stressful process of applying for another job and taking it on as an addition to my previous one.
I’ve gone from having decided, when Ben was around four or five months old, not to work at all to having two jobs seven or eight months later.
My first job was two and a half days and this new one has taken me to four days, but as it’s a teaching position it also brings with it the planning, marking and paperwork I had happily left behind when I was pregnant with Ben.
I feel very conflicted because I need the experience in order to be able to relocate in a couple of years (primarily for the boys’ education), the money is obviously particularly helpful with two boys and it makes me feel like a well-rounded adult with more to think about than nappies and potties, but then I’m away from the boys a lot even when I’m at home.
And, honestly, even when I am at home I’m so tired I find it difficult to entertain them as much as I’d like.
I spend as much time in the day at work as I can so that I don’t have to bring too much home but as term had started three weeks before I did, and as there was no one to take over from, I’m still catching up on the planning and paperwork that would usually have taken place over the summer.
The boys are looked after by daddy, nanna and nursery during the four days I’m at work and they’re all mine on the day I’m not. At the weekends we see various relatives, go swimming and to the park, and generally roll around on the floor as much as we (I) can stand. There’s also telly. Good old telly.
I don’t have anywhere to call a study or an office. I don’t have a desk. There’s not even space for a mess of organised chaos. Everything has to get stacked up and put out of reach of young boys and then pulled out again in the evenings when they’ve gone to bed.
I’ll admit it’s hard work. Hence no writing here for a while.
I get the itch. I see things in the news and I want to come here and write about it. I think of a milestone one of the boys has reached (Ben’s pulling up, Ted’s starting to speak more) and I want to share it, or to complain about the Health Visitor’s view of it, and I want to praise the people who are giving me so much support (big up the SureStart centre!) but I barely have time to wash my hair anymore. Even dry shampoo can’t save me.
But I generally love it. I might say I don’t and I might cry (a lot) when I realise just how much I need to do, but I do know how lucky I am to be able to do this and to have people around who can make it possible.
So I’ve got a dirty kitchen floor. I haven’t read a book in the bath in months. I can’t be there for all of the bumps and scrapes and tears.
But I will be able to afford the occasional trip to the zoo. So long as they can wait til the summer holidays…