Oh, this work and mothering thing bites hard sometimes. I am an official wearer of the cranky pants this week. In fact, I believe I would be in the running to be elected President of the Cranky Pants, if Donald Trump hadn’t so neatly stitched up the title for himself.
This is the thing about working and looking after kids at the same time, no matter how old the kids are: you can do it, but you do a shit job at both things. I’ve been ranting at the kids a lot. I’ve been pulling a lot of nights for work. Basically I’ve been awake so much it feels like it should be February already.
The kids aren’t doing so badly, of course. Every mother alive is prepared to sacrifice her sanity at the altar of Holiday Fun. One look at my Instagram feed will show you that they are loving life while I am simply loving them. Max had a sleepover last night and he’s been asked to stay on for the whole day because “we just love having him here”. This reinforces my belief that we raise our kids for other people, not ourselves.
The girls and I muddled through yesterday, but I rang my friend Lou in the afternoon and said, “I think the girls have reached peak sister” and she, being the mother of two girls the same age as my two, understood immediately. “Send them over tomorrow,” she said. I kissed and hugged her profusely down the phone. I love you, Lou.
So, today, respite. It’s 11am and I’ve already done about seven hours worth of work in three hours. I am never more efficient than when I am on borrowed time.
A drink tonight, for SURE. I will make mine a very large Manhattan or seven and tell you this:
I’m loving: today. I’m loving today.
I’m enjoying: I wish I could tell you I was enjoying the endless, lazy summer days with my children, but no. Endless is the word.
I’m watching: my soul implode. Oh, okay, enough already. I think you get my plight! I’m really watching the first 10 minutes of Stranger Things. I then said to Bart, “I think I should watch this during the day.” He looked at me with a kind of dawning look that said: YOU, you are the reason our children are up all night. It’s all your fault. I am never forgiving your inferior, scaredy cat genes.
I’m eating: I am still on low sugar. AND I didn’t even feel like scoffing all the sweets at Christmas either. Although I did have about 27 Roses chocolates, so… ‘low’ sugar is quite flexible.
I’m reading: Still on A Little Life. Complex. Mesmerising. Disturbing.
I’m discovering: how much easier life is when you just do the things instead of endlessly planning to do them.
I’m wondering: what the answer actually is for working mums. What do you do when your kids really, really, really hate going to day camps and places like that? I am just not able to send them along when they hate it that much, but I know if I didn’t have the same work flexibility, that’s exactly what I would have to do.
I’m listening: to ’80s classics. We watched the movie Sing Street and now we just can’t get enough (see what I did there?).
I’m planning: one more week of doing simultaneous work/mother thing because I’m on holidays for two weeks from 14/1. Yipppeee! Look out, kids. After a few weeks of neglect, you’re about to get more mum than you probably bargained for.
What have you been up to this week? How are the hols working out for you?