When I finished maternity leave six months ago, I bought and sold a whole lot of lies about what my return to work would mean for our family.
When I finished maternity leave six months ago, I bought and sold a whole lot of lies about what my return to work would mean for our family. Here is just a selection:
“After three days away from Tibbons each week, I’ll come back fresher and he’ll get the best of me,” I told myself. Sure, fresher in some respects - but more tired, too, and more easily distracted;
I waxed lyrical about the joys a regular lunch hour would bring. In reality, working three days a week, I spend most of my (notional) lunch hours at my desk, feeling that doing fewer days than my colleagues and trying to finish punctually, it might be too much to have lunch plans every day - never mind the fact that my pay reflects my reduced hours;
I was looking forward to wearing smart clothes again. I failed, however, to appreciate the omnipresence of snot when you have a toddler and did not respect the sheer tenacity it has once it winds its way onto your clothes. Funny that, because it transfers from your child’s nose so easily!
After giving birth to my son, I felt invincible; never again would the little things in life or at work seem so daunting. Fast forward 18 months and there I am fretting over whether I’ve put the comma in the right place. Worse still: what if it’s not even needed?
Finally, I assumed I would happily tread water at work for a year or two for the sake of less stress (commas excepted) and more time with Tibbons. Now I find myself about to start a more challenging job, with less time to spend at home.
But I’m convinced that I’ll start to take my lunch break and that I’ll come back fresher. I have even bought myself a new suit.
[box type="info"] Mummy K writes anonymously about motherhood and more: www.timewaitsfornomum.com