A working mumma

Sick babes
I’m literally typing this as my three-year-old runs rampant round the house, unable to play for ONE MINUTE ALONE. Why? Why is it that when you’re on the floor with them they’re happy to use their imagination and couldn’t really give two hoots you’ve got into character and Rubble is ready to be on the double, but the minute you decide to cook dinner/check your emails/write a blog they can not possibly do anything alone?

Anyway, I digress. I actually jumped on to tell you I have a new title: Working mumma of two.

That’s right peeps, I am once again an active member of the paid workforce, paying my taxes and shit. Yip.

Last week was my first week back since having Beau and my first week back juggling two crazies, work and just life in general.

It was far from how I imagined it would be because not only did I go back to work, but I went back in a completely new role. Haha, yeah. Because that was a good idea.

To their credit they prepared me with a day’s training and then were like ‘cool, you’re ready to go’. And I was like ‘yeah, totes’, while breathing into a paper bag and working out how we’ll live when they politely ask me to close the door behind me.

Seriously though, that side of my brain has not had to work under that sort of strain for more than 10 months. Add to that the countless other things going on in there and of course important information which I need to remember in order to function and not turn up to work naked, and that shit is full.

By Friday afternoon I had rung my boss that many times he literally answered the phone by saying “I have a migraine”, I was like ‘mate, you and me both’. He was fab though, ultra-patient and didn’t make me feel like a dick for being so needy.

And, add to that all the people I work with making me feel SUPER spesh, it was actually really nice to be back. I got to eat my lunch in peace, go to the loo alone, and swear without it being repeated in the supermarket later that day by my three-year-old after I tell him he’s not allowed a lollipop.

But on top of that I’m proud of myself.

It was important for me, and our family, that I go back to work. I have nothing but admiration for the women, and men, who are full-time stay at home parents – but that role is not for me. I’ve loved every minute (that’s a small lie) of being at home with my babies while they’ve REALLY needed me, but now it’s time to do something to benefit us all.

For me, and this is a completely personal decision, I wanted to go back to work. I’ve worked hard for my career and to get where I am. I enjoy what I do and I love to be challenged.

But more than that, I want my boys to grow up knowing that their mumma is happy. I’m making decisions for all of us. And hopefully, I’m a better mumma for it.

Though in saying that, the guilt I give myself over taking my kids to daycare and knowing they’d rather be at home is a heavy load to carry. But in the bigger picture, it means we can help provide opportunities our babes might otherwise not have had.
It really is a hard decision to make, and an individual one at that.

So mummas, who of you decided to go back to work and who decided to stay home? What were your reasons? I’d love to hear from you.

Side note: My girlfriend was like ‘so, how’s it being back at work?’ And I was like ‘Oh good, a bit like someone took out my brain, smashed it with a hammer, ran it over and popped it back in’. So just in case you’re wondering how I’m feeling after my first week back – that about sums it up.

Also, we’ve had a total of four days at daycare and I can indeed confirm one of my children has an ear infection, only the third within a month, and the other has a chest infection. Daycare in winter for the win. Insert crying face here.

Back to work

 

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Picking your battles

Zoo teddy

What no one tells you about parenting is that some days it sucks. Like really sucks. Like you could possibly just give your children away if it wasn’t for the fact you’re pretty sure people would start asking questions.

Honestly, even just writing this makes me feel like the worst mumma out. Who talks about their kids that way? Well I do, and I live by the moto that if one person is thinking it, chances are so are others.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys fiercely, but when they’re having an off day and tag teaming me with their tantrums/crying/whinging I seriously second guess myself.

I try to do nice things for my kids, take them places that I think I would have liked to go when I was their age. And legit, at least five times out of 10 I will report back to Mr Knees saying these exact words: “I honestly don’t know why I bother trying to do nice things for them, they’re so ungrateful”. But are they? Or is it that perhaps I expect too much from them? They are, after all, nine months old and three.

Case in point: I took these two wee cherubs to Werribee Zoo on Wednesday, we’d had two relatively quiet days so I thought hey, lets do something fun, get away from the neighbourhood and see some animals. Well f**k me, I wish I hadn’t.

The 55 minute drive there was spent with the baby asleep but the three year old yelling, winding down the window on the freeway and kicking the shit out of my seat while eating almost all the lunch I had packed. Sweet, off to a great start. We got there, I told Teddy he needed to sort himself out because the animals wouldn’t want to hang out with a grump.

We had an ok period while looking at the gorilla and lions but when it came to going to the safari bus it all just fell apart.

Teddy has an inability to sit still at the best of times but while on the bus, while driving through herds of wild animals, you’d have thought he could just follow one instruction. Nope. No sitting, just mucking around getting up and down, yelling about being hungry and all while the baby decided it was the perfect time to poo while simultaneously being STARVING and cry about everything, EVERYTHING. By the time we got off the safari I was almost in tears. I decided we needed to get into the café, all have something to eat and we’d all feel better.

You can all laugh now.

Zoo Beau

Here’s the best part. I don’t often buy things for Teddy while we’re out, juice and cookies and that type of thing, only because I don’t like it to be expected. I’ll do it but I like it to come as a surprise, not when it’s demanded. So, while waiting to order a well deserved coffee, Teddy asked if he could have a biscuit. I said yes, because he’d eaten almost all his lunch, but that he’d need to wait to eat it until we picked up the coffee and got a table. Just note as this point, that I realise where I went wrong.

So the tantrum of all tantrums ensued, because Teddy wanted to eat it NOW. And the louder he got and the more he lashed out, the stronger I stood my ground, because hell no he wasn’t going to get a cookie after behaving like that. I fought back tears while people watched, knowing I was being judged.

It wasn’t until yesterday I realised I picked the wrong battle. I always seem to pick the wrong battles. Who gives a shit if he eats the biscuit before we get to the table. Are you serious. Why did it matter? It didn’t, but instead we all had to suffer because I made a mistake. And while I blame the kids for a lot of the issues we have, I need to be accountable for some of it. That situation could have so easily been avoided.

But to be honest, it all capped off a pretty average week. My baby had daycare orientation yesterday so needless to say I spent most of the day crying about it. I go back to work in two weeks – into a new role, and I have about 1000 things on my “to-do list”, which for every one thing I tick off, two more seem to appear. It’s just one of those times where everything is mounting and I’m overdue for a mini breakdown.

So to all you other mummas and pappas having a shit day with your kids, whether it’s because they’re sick, or you’re tired or they’re just generally being assholes, or it’s you that’s being the asshole – I hear you, and it’s totally ok to feel that way. Just don’t give them away, I promise you’ll probably regret it… in about two weeks.