Got my work shoes and a packed lunch all ready to go

I was queuing at the till this afternoon to pay for my shopping. I decided that as it's my first full week in my new job I was going to be well prepared so I bought all the food I needed for lunches, breakfasts and any snacks. The boys were at home lounging in the sunny garden having returned from cricket and we had all been for a fun swim earlier in the morning. In the queue I noticed a man behind me who had only two items to pay for. I asked it he wanted to go ahead of me and he looked a bit surprised, but thanked me and moved forward. The woman in front of me was frantically packing her shopping, she had already rolled her eyes and castigated her husband (who had disappeared now) and was clearly not in a good mood. The man in front of me stood next to her waiting his turn to pay and she looked at him and sharply asked him to move away so she could put in her pin number.  He was quite elderly and didn't really understand so I gently took his elbow and explained that she wanted some privacy to put in her number and he mumbled something. She swore at him and he looked baffled. It brought me up short, because I can remember days when I have been like that. I've not been patient or especially nice and it's embarassing to see in another person the rotten behaviour I've probably displayed myself. 

This was on my mind because we just had a half term holiday in Cornwall where we spent time relaxing, eating outside, being active and generally doing things as a family. I have tried to manage the worst of my moods and temper, which is much easier when it is sunny and now the boys are older they even sleep in sometimes !! I noticed Blue Bear has more energy, he asserts himself more (well he shouts a lot), he is funny and engaging and lots of fun. Brown Bear blew my mind when we all went on a long cycle ride by being brave and sensible and working as a team with me and hubbie. I have wanted to ride the Camel Trail since I first visited Cornwall about 18 years ago. Now that Brown Bear can ride a bike confidently we hired bikes - and a buggy for Blue Bear to sit in behind Daddy's bike. We took to the trail and it was just fantastic to be able to cycle as a family and to see my son pedalling away and taking the lead. Even when he came off his bike and scraped his arm - quite painfully - he got back on and kept going. I recalled how when I fell off my bike my dad would tell me off rather than comfort me. It showed me that some of my worst traits are learned behaviours and it is entirely my choice to take them on. I didn't tell him off, I reassured him that falling off is part of cycling and he had done nothing wrong to make it happen. Then we sang as we cycled along to take his mind off his injury. 

I noticed that I'm letting go more and giving the boys more space. It's been on my mind that the shift from full time parent to full time work is something I just wasn't prepared for. The boys are great, they love creche and hopefully Blue Bear will eat supper at school this week instead of expecting me to feed him when I'm home from work. Brown Bear often asks me, "How was your day Mummy ?" and made me a certificate to signify how well I'd done for going back to work. They are fine with it. Hubbie provides the encouragement and practical support to enable me to do this at all. On my first day as I was leaving for work he gave me a massive hug and whispered in my ear, "I'm so proud of you." That carried me practically all the way there. 

It's taken what seems like forever, but now I am here and I have put things in place to help me feel calmer. I disclosed to work that I experience anxiety and stress. This is the first time I've ever done that. I decided it was best to just be open and I'm glad I did. They need to know that if I am being asked to stay late and it means I can't pick up my kids that is going to cause me anxiety. Being late for my children makes me stressed. Over the years I realise that people have thought I'm being unreasonable or picky when actually I'm anxious. It's not logical or directed at anyone in particular and to a certain extent it is out of my control. If I am on a train that is delayed I will be getting anxious - even though there's nothing I can do about it. If I have an hour for lunch and the food is late I will be anxious. I'd rather just leave it, but I don't want to be rude. 

So when I saw the woman today I kind of sympathised with her. I have no idea why her day was going that way or why she was upset with her husband or why him changing the orangeade for lemonade caused her to react as she did. I have no clue why the man standing close to her caused her to get so upset. In fact, I blamed myself for letting him in front of me and putting him in that situation. Still, I hope she felt better later. 

I came home and put out four outfits for this week. I organised the things I need to take to work and put the food in the fridge that I am going to eat tomorrow. I am managing my potential anxiety in the only way I know how - by organising the hell out of it. Now I'm going to bed so that I at least have a fighting chance of getting enough sleep. 

Am I invisible ? Who said that ?

Yesterday when Brown Bear was dressing for school he was insisting he wanted to wear shorts and I told him it was far too cold. He reluctantly wore long trousers and I felt vindicated by the grim weather as I dropped him off at the playground. Then later in the morning it was glorious sunshine and I felt guilty so I took his shorts to school and left them with the school office so he could change into them at break-time. I picked up Blue Bear and took a snack for both boys to eat on the way home from the second pick up. Between the time we got home and left for Beavers Brown Bear barked orders at me ranging from, "toast and jam," "beans on toast," "a glass of water," and "pudding." There may have a been a please or two in there if I'm being generous.

I had planned to drop Blue Bear with a neighbour while I took Brown Bear to Beavers as Hubbie wouldn't be home yet. Then he got home early and Brown Bear cheered, "Daddy, I want you to take me to Beavers." When we explained that I was doing it he whined, "Oh I don't want Mummy to take me." Through gritted teeth I explained that I had already made plans to do it and that was that. I had also asked another parent to pick him up so I could go to hear Dr Aric Sigman (remember him from Saturday morning TV where he was an 'agony uncle' answering questions from kids ?) giving a talk about managing screen time. Oh the irony having just plonked my boys in front of the TV as soon as they got home so that I could do the to-ing and fro-ing between the front room and kitchen that is my post-school routine. It was a very good talk so I'll tell you about that another time.

I asked Hubbie a while back if he could help me out as I was offered a paid gig today that meant I needed help with picking up the boys from school and nursery. Before leaving the house this morning I made a lunch for Blue Bear, packed both a school backpack and swimming kit for Brown Bear, a change of clothes for Brown Bear to have after swimming, left an after school snack on the counter and put a washing load in and started to empty the dishwasher. As I left this morning Hubbie was waiting in for the locksmith - I had called the guy having waited for a few months for it to happen by magic and when it didn't I took decisive action. If only I had done the same thing previously we wouldn't now be looking at a £400 bill to repaper the hallway which has water damage and I don't know how much to replace the wooden floor thanks to a DIY disaster. Still, we live and learn.

The mums meet for coffee sometimes and as I had Hubbie at home today I thought I'd join them for a change. We did the Blue Bear handover so he could take him to pre-school and even though I didn't have anything it was nice to sit and chat for a while with other grown ups. I was out for the rest of they day so when I called Hubbie to remind him what I'd left him for lunch I also asked if he could put on the washing machine and run the vacuum around the front room. He did that big intake of breath that he always does when I ask for a 'favour' - thank goodness I wasn't there to also witness the eyeroll that accompanies it - but said "Ok." Feeling ever so 'umble I went about my day.

When I rang later to ask how things were going I could hear the boys yelling in the background - as per. I had intended to stop on the way home and maybe pick up a few bits from the shops, but it sounded like bedlam so I went straight home. As soon as I walked in Brown Bear started demanding dinner. Well forgive me for not having your meal ready within seconds of arriving inside the house Little Lord Fauntleroy. As I took out the pasta from the fridge he had a tantrum because he'd had pasta for lunch. Well silly me what was I thinking ? Hubbie was nowhere to be seen. Of course as soon as I got in the door that must mean he's off the clock now ? A quick change of dinner plan saw the boys fed and a bit less stressed, then I emptied the dishwasher - which I hadn't finished doing this morning. I hung up the washing, went back to the cup of tea I had started making earlier and I made a start on our dinner before going out to another meeting. I popped the tea into the microwave - shuttup, it was an emergency - and put it into a travel cup to drink on the way.

I know receiving appreciation as a stay at home parent is as likely as a unicorn picking up it's own poo, but seriously when did I become a second class citizen in my family ? This nothing person who does the invisible tasks so that clothes miraculously appear when needed, meals are rapidly changed to suit just expressed preferences, lunches are there without any effort on the part of the consumer and the house for some reason isn't under a pile of smelly garbage.

When did it become ok to give no status to the person who keeps things ticking over ? Why does that go to the guy who gets to be with other adults all day every day and whose meals aren't mostly an afterthought or often leftovers ? The one who probably gets to pee when he wants to and who doesn't have to explain to anyone where he is going if he leaves the room instead of being a referee / sofa cushion / punching bag.

How on earth can I expect to ever go back to work if I can't even get respect for what I'm doing now ? I've advised companies on how to achieve equality in the workplace and I can't even achieve it in my own home. I'd think twice before advising any other woman to be a stay at home parent. In all honesty it's a poisoned chalice. I consider myself lucky to have a partner who does his share, but why do I also have to take the eye rolls, the 'asking permission' and frankly the low status that comes with being the day-to-day parent ? I used to earn more than him, I worked harder and I was worth something. Now I'm working for two small tyrants (three if you include the cat) and my business partner is more like a silent partner.

What's my job ? Oh, I'm a mum.

On Monday evening I went to an event hosted by Mumsnet in conjunction with Boots No.7 about returning to work with confidence. The panel discussion was interesting as we heard from women from a range of careers including a high level fund manager, a model and a fashion writer. Each of them had taken a break to have a baby with varying levels of financial support and each had to negotiate a return to work taking into account their childcare needs.

It may sound naive, but I hadn't appreciated that so many of us have the same issues with employment. I worked for over 20 years before I fell pregnant with Brown Bear and the prospect of maternity leave was both enticing (a break from work - how little I knew !) and terrifying. What would I return to ? Would I even have a job to go back to ? As it happens I took the full year of leave and when I did return to work I made the decision to take voluntary redundancy and stay at home with my son for longer. I don't for a minute regret that decsion and I am so lucky that I was able to do this, so many mums aren't able to stay at home if they want to. I knew going back into work would be difficult, but I had no idea how much or why.

I've written before about the Motherhood penalty and the Fatherhood bonus. It's a phenomenon that's been studied by academics specialising in gender studies where women who have children find their careers suffer whereas men who do the same are actually rewarded with promotion, pay rises and even flexibility in work patterns. This is not the case for everyone by any means, but I am feeling how real this is right now. Before I had children I earned a very decent salary, had status and responsibility. I was able to pay my own way and to enjoy holidays and to buy things as I wanted. I now earn nothing at all, my status is defined by my children and I don't have the independence to spend money as I could before. I'm not suffering by any means. This isn't a 'poor me' diatribe. It's more frustration at the difficulty I now face in securing employment now I am a parent.

Once Brown Bear started at school I was working in a job I really enjoyed with responsibility and a decent salary. It was a maternity cover, but I hoped it would be a springboard to a career change for me. Instead we found out that we had been matched with Blue Bear and I found myself once again taking leave from work to raise a child. I didn't qualify for adoption leave or adoption pay - I missed out by a few weeks, but there you go. It was the right thing to do and again I'm so glad I did stay with him as it's made such a difference to how well he's settled into the family. My commitment to my children and my family overall is what has kept me going through a period where I have slowly depleted my resources, grown older and become more detached from the working world.

Listening to the panellists on Monday evening I was inspired to try again to get back into work and not to apologise for being a Mum. In the past I've found myself taking on far more hours than I can comfortably manage and neglecting my family as a result. I no longer want to put my sons into breakfast club and creche just so I can work. With so many women in the workplace surely employers can meet us in the middle and make the most of our skills and experience ?

Another topic that was covered by the panel was the concept of asking Hubbie (or whoever is your significant other) for help instead of it being a shared responsibilty from day one. When I went to work we discussed how to make it work. After a few months of being miserable, tired, overworked and feeling like a failure I talked to Hubbie and he suggested a different way of working where he and I shared the childcare. It made such a big difference. We were fortunate that his employer was willing to accommodate our needs, but I am now not so timid to ask for his assistance when I need it. I used to treat his job as having hallowed status and put my own needs last.

Following the panel discussion I had a mini makeover with lovely Rachael from No.7. I talked to her about my love of Boots No.7 and in over 20 years my skin has changed but my skincare routine hasn't. We're told appearance isn't the be all and end all, but it's all part of the armour of going out of the house and being someone other than mum for a while. I left the event with lovely make up on and a confidence that I will be able to go back into the workplace on my terms.

Being a mum is a huge part of who I am now, but it's not all I am or all I can do.

Take it away Dolly.

Sunday Night and Monday Morning

When people talk about Sunday Night Syndrome it's usually with a 'back to school' feeling. One of dread and sadness that the working / school week is beginning again. Hubbie usually irons his shirts on Sunday evening while we watch TV and I sort out my lunch and organise my handbag for Monday.

Eating crisps with chopsticks - that's how we roll :)

This week we've had a crazy busy weekend with a family lunch, a quiz at the school and a party with classmates this afternoon. In between all of this we also managed to fit in a visit to the dentist and even pre-recorded a radio show. Even by our standards it's been more packed than usual. I'm tired at the end of my weekend and have a full week to follow.

There was a time when I was able to cope with all the slings and arrows that working life would throw at me, but that was before I was a parent. Now my son's social calendar defines what we do every weekend and we all work round that. The weekdays are no different and everything is organised around what time he has to be dropped off or picked up from school. If I have to go on a train journey out of London I book a train that will get me back in time to pick him up. Hubbie drops him off at breakfast club in the morning then goes to work. It's a finely tuned operation to ensure everyone can get where they need to be at the right time.

My boy and his friend hanging out

The bit that is difficult for me is that my boy is only 4 years old and he spends a long day at school so that me and Hubbie can work. He loves being at school and his friends are great, but he did ask me the other day if I could pick him up at 3.15 "like the other Mums." I said I would see what I can do. To be honest it's probably not helpful that he is leaving school in the dark so it feels like the middle of the night, but it's the first time he's expressed any discontent with the long days we subject him to.

It does make me question whether that is what I want for my child. Whether my relationship with him in the future will be compromised because of the decisions we have made right now. My sister still says that she often wished that our Mum had been home when we got back from school like all her friends' Mums. Our Mum worked full time and it never occurred to me that this was an issue. I accepted that she worked and that this was not her choice, but a necessity. I didn't have my Mum at home when I got back from school and she was often tired, but she always took time off during the school holidays and would save money to take us for days out and even the occasional holiday.

Yeah I make him do his own washing.

Hubbie has a great relationship with his Mum and they talk openly and honestly about things that matter to him. I hope that when my son grows up he feels close to me in the same way.

It won't always be like this. I won't be working long days and travelling all over the place. In a short time I will be back to taking him to school and picking him up at the same time as the other Mums. He will see me when it's daylight and we will spend time together after school and maybe even have friends over for playdates.

The main thing I want for my son is that when he looks back on this time he recalls a happy childhood. One that was filled with fun, laughter and love.

Those are the memories that I want to give my boy.

Happy Days :

Finding my wings

One of those things that people always say they'd do if they won the lottery is to travel - or buy a tropical island if you're one of my friends. Seeing more of the world is an ambition that most of us have had at some point and unless you have a pathological aversion to travel it's one that is pretty achievable. My in-laws didn't go on foreign holidays when Hubbie was growing up, but as soon as their sons left home they were off on long haul holidays and gallivanting all over the world on cruises too. My parents only ever went on holiday to India to see family so my Mum often laments that she travelled from India to England and never saw anywhere in between. If I won I'd take her on holiday to the places that she wanted to see. Of course I'd have to actually play the lottery first to be in with a chance of winning.

In my own adulthood I've been fortunate enough to be able to go to some fascinating and beautiful places. I went scuba diving in Egypt, skiing in Canada and worked with children in Romania and Sierra Leone. I've done my fair share of flying alone and it's been ok, but I'm not a joyful or willing traveller by air.

Apparently when I was a toddler my Mum took me to India and during a scheduled stopover we had to disembark the plane and I flat refused to get back on as I was so terrified of the plane that I had boarded earlier at Heathrow without seeing how big it was. From the tarmac in Germany it looked far too scary and it took most of the cabin crew and some maternal cajoling (bribery) to persuade me back on board to complete our journey. I didn't actually know this so when Mum told me it reawakened a fear of flying that I had no idea I ever had.

Once upon a time flying somewhere was an exciting experience that was magical and fun and made us feel like we were doing something special. Now it feels like an exercise in enforcement and the process is unpleasant and designed to make you feel uncomfortable. From the long list of forbidden items to the series of security checks it's a conveyer belt of fear and anxiety.

I was booked to travel on the 12th of September 2001 - the day after the events that led to liquid limits and shoe removal being a normal part of travel. Now I was travelling from Stansted which is possibly the worst airport I've ever been to (and I'm including that tiny airstrip in Sierra Leone where we sat for half a day waiting for the fuel to arrive for our plane and where I saw a bit too much of Andy Kershaw as the bus we were travelling on had poor suspension and his shorts left little to the imagination !) and it was the first day of the newly created security measures so it was complete chaos. It took over 2 hours to check in and I only just made it to the plane in time. It was RyanAir so there wasn't even any solace in free snacks as you get jack all on their flights unless you pay through the nose for it.

I'm telling you this because my new job requires some travelling and will involve flying to a few places too. It's a strange experience going to an airport for work rather than a holiday. Instead of buying magazines and sunglasses in the departure lounge I look for wifi and a spot to sit with a cuppa. Where I'd usually go shopping in Fat Face for some additional holiday outfits I'm only travelling with hand luggage so I can't add anything to my bag and instead of reading my book I start to ponder what the boys are doing while I'm away. The main thing is I'm putting off the fear of flying alone. When we were on a plane with our boy I was so concerned that he not be scared that I forgot my own fears entirely.

In recent years Hubbie has dealt with my fear of flying in two ways. Firstly he takes the mickey out of me mercilessly during a flight saying things like, "oh that isn't normal is it ? That wing looks wonky." which doesn't make me feel any better but distracts me from the genuine fear I'm feeling. The other thing he did was bought me a flying lesson which I put off doing for over a year. When I did actually do it I was terrified, but so exhilarated once I'd done it.

I'm still not the best flier, but is it too much to hope that the next crew I fly with are the Foo Fighters ?

I'm making a clean start to the New Year

As I type I'm making a mental list of all the jobs there are to do in the house that I haven't got round to yet. Since we got home from our Christmas break I've been restless as the house just feels like it's full of clutter and mess. I spent all of last Sunday sorting out and a few hours today too, but it still feels like there is a mountain to deal with.

Usually I find the process of cleaning and sorting therapeutic. I put on the radio and get stuck in with whatever tasks I've decided to tackle and get on with it. For some reason I'm a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount there is to do right now. I think it's because I'm working all week and I only have the weekends to do the chores that it's become such a big deal.

When I was at home every day I didn't stress as much about getting everything done, but then I did have time every day to keep on top of the cleaning and washing and other random things that I tell myself I need to do. Like folding all the towels the same way and lining up the cushions. It's safe to say I can be a bit fussy about things like that.

In fact Hubbie suggested I make Youtube clips of common household chores the way I like them done so that he can follow them. I think it's a great idea and will get onto in tomorrow with the first instructional movie: "how to fold bags for life the 'right' way." I can see it being a big hit :)

Ideas for future 'how to' clips include: how to fold sheets, how to load the dishwasher and how to hang the washing. I'm sure there are plenty more that you could add to the list. In fact I will make sure I keep them so that my boy can watch them too. I've already started talking to him about doing chores so some handy videos can only help can't they ?

Right, I'm off to prepare for my close up.

Hey, Ho, let's go... back to work and school.

So today we've gone back to normal after what feels like almost a month of holiday and late bedtimes and eating between meals. Everyone had to get up at a reasonable time and eat a normal breakfast and be dressed and ready by the front door in time to travel together.

Our boy is back at school and we're both back at work. To be fair Hubbie was at work last week so he's not feeling the pain as badly as I am. I went back yesterday and my desk had been moved so it was all a bit unsettling, but it was good to be back into some semblance of order after so long without any fixed plans from one day to the next. Our boy has been asking when he's due back at school for a while now and this excitement about seeing his friends again was helped by having new school shoes and a swimming lesson first thing.

The only one of the family who wasn't looking forward to this return to normality appears to be Neo. This morning the cat sat in the middle of the stairs observing our chaotic departure from the house with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement. I'm fairly certain he was a bit put out that he would be left alone all day having had company all day for weeks now, but also secretly was hoping we'd leave the door to our boy's bedroom open so that he could snuggle down on his bed. I'm slightly offended that our bed is no longer considered fluffy enough for him, but it might also be our insistence that he's not allowed in that makes it far more appealing.

When I got home this evening - later than usual - our boy was asleep and the cat was snoozing on his comfy bed by the radiator in the front room. I took over from Hubbie so he could go out for a swim - I had mine earlier today - and got myself sorted for the morning. I think it's fair to say that we are a family that does better when we have a routine.

Anyway, I'm off to bed now - I have to be up early :)

I (more than) get by with a little help from my friends

I'm blessed with some amazing friends - I'm more than usually aware of this tonight as I've been struggling this week to keep up with myself. The early starts and the rushing back from work so I'm in time to pick up our boy from school has been taking its toll. I started my new job last week and have already clocked miles travelling to Brighton, Liverpool and Oxford for meetings and conferences and this week Hubbie started his new job too. Our boy has been going to breakfast club and after school creche in order to accommodate our new busy timetable and we're all a bit shattered.

Yes. it's the actual Yellow Submarine !!

This evening as I popped out to get some bits and pieces from the shops I called an old friend - he's not old I've just known him a long time - to discuss the latest adventures in our household. When discussing the work situation he reminded me that this is an amazing opportunity for me to get some great experience and that it will take time for it to feel 'normal' for all of us, but it will happen. Rob and I have been friends for over 20 years and he knows me pretty well and there's no hiding from him when things aren't great. He's right of course. I'm feeling a bit crappy about it all because I'm worried about our boy coping with the new routine. I feel guilty because I'm not at home all the time to do the things I was doing before so the house is a mess and I have a constantly increasing to do list. I'm tired because even though I vowed to go to bed by ten it just doesn't happen.

When I got home from the shops I was rushing - as I seem to be all the time lately - and was very snappy with Hubbie. As if he'd realised why he mentioned that we could make some changes to our working patterns so that it wouldn't all feel so panicky for me. We discussed it further and I think we've come up with a pretty good solution that will enable me to work smarter. He is good like that and will always try to fix things to make it easier for me. Bear in mind that he has a pathological hatred of DIY and yet he made a late night trip to B&Q last night to sort out a curtain rail that had an unfortunate run-in with our 4 year old last weekend.

You see I consider Hubbie a friend too. Not the one I've know longest, but certainly one who is just as amazing as the others. I mean he knows how rotten I can be when it's been a while since I've eaten - or just because it's Monday - and he still chose to marry me. We both have to deal with our boy when he's being difficult and it does get trying, but we don't forget that we're friends underneath it all. I don't mean we're only friends - of course there's more to it than that. This is a PG rated blog though so I won't elaborate on that.

When I was a child my Mum used to criticise how close I was to my friends. She would say that I did far too much for them and that when they didn't reciprocate I would get hurt - she was only half right. You see some friends are like dominos - they lean on you and you in turn lean on others. Then there are the ones who know you so well that you don't even have to tell them the whole story. They just say the thing you need to hear or do something that you didn't know you needed. Like Neil doing a 'Smiley's People' style meeting this week over the road from my office. Or Gareth changing plans so he could join me and Hubbie for a gig at very short notice. Or Carole checking in with me to see how I am getting on in my new job. Or SJ putting the bollard down on her drive for us - no I'm not even going to elaborate on that.

What I've realised over the years is that great friends are the family you choose. The really good ones are priceless and if you're lucky enough to have someone who is both a friend and family then be thankful.

Yes, I'm talking about you Hubbie :)

Say Hello (to work) and Wave Goodbye (to being a SAHM)

I'm going to miss nonsense like this

I'm going back to work next month after being at home with my boy for almost all of his first four years of life. Since I found out that I'll be working full time I've worried about a lot of things.

• whether my boy will be able to manage a longer day once he's going to breakfast club before school and creche after school 

• not being there to drop him off - Hubbie will be doing the morning school run

• how I'll cope with having to get up and commute again. I really hate commuting 

• whether or not I'll be able to get myself organised so that I have breakfast and lunch with me to stop me spending money on food 

• getting back from work in time to pick up my boy at the mercy of London Transport 

• having enough time to make a meal for us in the evening instead of just putting stuff in the microwave

• reducing the frequency that I swim from daily to whenever I can when I no longer have the whole day to fit it in

• will the house ever get cleaned when I'm working full time ? 

• how my boy will adapt to my working again instead of being 'his Mummy' for a living. 

I've been talking to the boy about my return to work for a while now - since before I was offered a job in fact. I told him Mummy would be going to work and he asked me why. I said it was because he is a big boy now and I can go to work in the day while he is at school. He was ok with that. In fact he seems to be excited about the prospect of going to breakfast club and creche and I have to accept that he might be looking forward to some 'mummy-free' time. Ouch !

 My boy's preferred job right now

It would appear that the only thing I haven't worried about is doing the actual job. Not because I'm so blasé that I think I will be fine, but I just haven't given it any thought yet. My lovely friend Soraya not only sent me the job advert, but helped me prepare for the interview and was pretty much holding my hand the whole day I was there (metaphorically speaking of course). She's been amazingly supportive and told me not to worry about childcare - these things work out she said - and today she asked me how I felt about the job. She knows the person who is doing the role at the moment and they are pretty impressive shoes to fill. I honestly don't know, but it's an area of work that I feel strongly about and that I believe I can make a contribution to. It's going to be challenging and interesting and terrifying all at the same time.

So for now I'm going to just worry about letting go of my current role as stay-at-home parent, because that's what this is. I'm reluctant to share the load with anyone - even Hubbie - because I've become so used to doing it myself. The dropping off, the picking up, the school meetings, the swimming lessons, the meal planning and preparation, the in-between shops for items that run out midweek and the weekday appointments for pet immunisations. The meticulous planning of every hour of every day to ensure nothing is missed and that I wring out as much as I can from the meagre 24 hours I've got.

I'll start thinking about my new role as a working parent later. When I've chosen what to wear for my first day. Worked out the best route to and from work. When I've packed my bag and managed to include everything I need for the whole day. When I've remembered what it feels like to wake up so early that it's still dark while I walk to the tram stop in the morning. When I look out of the window of the train or the office and see the world that I've been away from. When I have more conversations with adults in a day than with a 4 year old and when I make and finish a brew while it's still hot enough to call tea.

In short, when it feels real.

I can only hope it's this light when I leave the house

It's not all work, work, work you know :)

When the boy was born I stayed at home for a full year to be with him. Then I went back to my job and soon after decided I didn't want to be a working mum and took the redundancy package on offer and stayed home with him until now. As he's going to school in September I've decided it's time for me to look for work that fits in with this big change. As I review my work history it brings to mind something that Hubbie said to me recently. Hold onto your hats...

This is a good one...

You won't see this coming...

*clears throat*

I am the real Miss Rabbit !!

I know, it's a bit of a shock. I'll give you a minute to process that fact before we move on. *makes a cup of tea* 

Now you've had a few minutes to recover, maybe I should clarify what I mean. To be exact Hubbie calls me a cross between Miss Rabbit and Nessa from Gavin and Stacey. You see every now and again I will drop into the conversation a job I have done that is so random that it sounds like it can't be true. It's not deliberate, like a humble brag, "Oh, yes it was like when I parked cars for the Sultan of Brunei and he let me keep a Ferrari." It's far less exotic than that.

Would you employ this woman ? 

On holiday when I made the boys toasted waffles with chocolate spread and strawberries I mentioned that I don't eat them myself any more. Years ago there was a Belgian waffle van in Ealing Broadway next to the jewellery stall that I worked on. The woman who ran the stall was my Maths teacher's wife - he looked like Bluto from Popeye - and the lad who used to wheel the barrow out in the morning and back into storage at night was called Vince and smelled of weed. The lads on the fruit stall opposite used to undercharge me - the perks of being 'colleagues' - and I learned all the different names for semi-precious stones, but never worked out how to put the puzzle ring back together.

Hubbie laughed.

It was just the latest in a long line of jobs that I've done that sound made up but they really aren't. I mean why would I make up that one ? It's not beyond reasonable to have done so many different things. It is rare for anyone to stay in the same job for years and years any more and if you think about it I've worked since I was 16 and I'm 44 now, so my having done a crazy number of jobs isn't so unlikely is it ? So when I say something like, "I was interviewed for a radio show in Sierra Leone," I'm not trying to show off, I probably forgot about it until the moment I just said it.

At times it must sound like I'm lying, but I'm not. I really did work in Transylvania and yes the water was poisonous, but the alcohol was not. When you put it like that it does indeed sound a bit bizarre.  

Yes, I really did meet the actual Sheriff of Nottingham. No, I really did. His name was Mr Fulton. He was very friendly, not like the Alan Rickman one at all.

The other Sheriff of Nottingham.

It seems unlikely, but I did travel to Cork on Sept 12th 2001 with my boss and it took us over 2 hours to check in because they had suddenly introduced new security measures in light of the attack on the twin towers the day before.

When I worked for a paging company I was often mistaken for a doctor because I had a 'beeper.' Well, that and the fact that I'm asian, I guess. The boss really did say that he thought mobile phones were a phase and he had no idea who any of the acts were that he had voted for as one of the judges of the inaugural Mercury Music Prize.

And finally, should you ever find yourself in possession of a copy of the electronic version of the PUSH guide to which university (1997 edition) that is indeed my voice on the CD. I had high hopes of a career as a voiceover artist, but alas, it was not to be.

So, I haven't driven an Eddie Stobart truck or worked as a living statue like Nessa, nor am I part of the Mummy's volunteer fire service or a helicopter pilot like Miss Rabbit, but on my past form surely it's only a matter of time before those are on my CV too ?

In the meantime please wish me luck with my job search :)

Could this be my next job ?

From career woman to washer woman: finding work life balance

It's all about balance isn't it ?

I've mentioned before how I had a well paid job and now I don't have any job. How I went from being a manager with responsibilities to being a mother with different responsibilities.

I meet so many women who are entrepreneurs having set up a business when they had children. They have a great idea and want to work family friendly hours so they either bake stuff or make stuff or sell stuff or teach stuff. I admire all of these women and wish I had a 'thing' that I was good at doing so that I could 'live my dream' and make antimacassars from recycled ribbons or something equally magical. Instead I collect random things, think about what I could be good at and keep on keeping on. Wondering what I am good enough at to do it for a living. I often wonder what I should do now as we prepare for the boy to start school in September.

I have realised that the world of work is very different from how it was and I am different now too. I first started working when I was 16 and had a part time job and I worked while at university and during the holidays too. I found working in the library interesting and made friends and learned a lot about things from colleagues like Sandra. We shared a love of movies and used to go to the cinema every week together. It was Sandra who introduced me to Bill Bryson and who was writing a romance novel.

When I worked at VSO in my first fundraising job Karen was the best manager I ever had. She was fair minded, clear in her leadership and great fun. She was also very kind to me when my marriage ended and took me to one side to say that it was only work and if I needed to be alone or to talk she was there for me. I loved her so much and told her what a great manager she'd been years later when we'd both moved on and I had the hindsight to appreciate her. 

Tea for the workers

I've often worked in offices so I have perfected the tea run and Friday cakes. I worked in a housing association once where the politics of tea making made Drop the Dead Donkey look tame. I also learned here that washing my hands and applying hand lotion before making the tea was making it taste floral funny. 

I have been lucky enough to work in jobs where there were staff lunches and after work drinks. Not just for networking or to keep in with the boss, but for fun. It would often go a bit too far on Friday nights, but I rarely stayed late as I always had an early yoga class or stand up lesson on Saturday morning anyway. 

When I was doing my public speaking job I was travelling around the country and I didn't see anyone from my office, but I was supported by amazing colleagues who kept me informed of all the gossip. The fabulous Jan rang and told me that as I'd been in Devon where they had an outbreak of foot and mouth disease, when I got back to work I'd have to wait outside the farm buildings where we were based so that I and my car tyres could be decontaminated. It was more the Archers than Silkwood thankfully. 

This all changed when I joined the Civil Service. It was ok at first and my colleagues were friendly and chatty. When I hosted a meeting I would bring in cakes and make the tea and I had a great relationship with people I worked with. I worked with these people for years and they witnessed our first attempt to adopt and eventual successful pregnancy. I wrote and hosted the Christmas staff quiz and we all went out for party nights and occasional drinking sessions. Returning to work after a year off on maternity leave this had all changed. The office had relocated and with it the tone had become very unfriendly and sadly the cliche of being bureaucratic and unfriendly was a reality.

My boss said he hadn't expected me back and he didn't have any work for me. During team meetings colleagues would look at me strangely when I mentioned what I was doing and I felt judged and shamed for not being in on whatever the massive issue was. When the option of voluntary redundancy came along I discussed it with Hubbie. It took a few months of trying to make it work out, but paying someone to care for my son while I went into work just wasn't worth the hassle any more. I took the redundancy payment and dedicated myself to being a stay at home parent.

In the time since I left I have questioned that decision so many times. To go from being well paid to not paid. To go from having a job title and being a manager to being a Mum and not much else - not that that isn't a big job, but it is very different. The redundancy money enabled us to hire professional movers when we moved into this house which was far less stressful than trying to do it ourselves with a one year old. It meant I was there to be with my boy when he first walked and when he learned to speak and I have been his primary carer which has been immense and tiring and rewarding and frustrating all at once.

My 'workplace'

Being at home I have had the time to write this blog. It also gave me the opportunity to go back into radio and I have been delighted to be able to produce not one, but two regular radio shows on Croydon Radio. It also means I am the one who does the household chores. I've gone from career woman to washer woman. My house is clean and I plan our meals and even go swimming most days. It isn't such a bad life really.

The only thing is I have no idea what I am for any more. I also don't know what I'm supposed to do.

Any ideas ?  

Don't mess with me - I'm a Mum !

In the last week I've heard more than one discussion that has been focused on the old and - I believe - false distinction between Mums who work and those who stay at home. In one case it was about how women who don't have kids resent those who do as they feel they have to pick up the slack left by their workshy parent colleagues. Then there is that old chestnut about working mums vs stay at home mums. On Radio 4 You and Yours had a woman representing stay at home Mums and a lawyer who returned to work two weeks after giving birth to each of her five children. One caller referred to her role staying at home being so vital because "the most important thing we can give our children is love," thus implying that by returning to work a mother does not love her children as much.

I say it's a false distinction because I honestly believe that with a few exceptions we are all doing the best we can. If we're working we're trying to do the best for our family and if we're at home we're trying to do the best for our family too. No one is deliberately trying to compete with 'the other side' and what about those of us who do both ? I work some of the time, parent most of the time and feel like I'm underperforming all of the time.

The most recent discussion has been about discrimination against women returning from maternity leave and I can very closely identify with this. I returned to work after a year at home with my son and I believe I was constructively dismissed as my boss told me he hadn't been expecting I'd be coming back to his department so he didn't have anything for me to do. At meetings I was invisible and my colleagues pretty much ignored me. When the offer of voluntary redundancy came round I discussed it with Hubbie and we agreed I'd take it and became a stay at home parent as a result. I had worked hard for a promotion before maternity leave in the hope I'd go back to my well paid job and be able to work part time and still earn a good wage. Instead I took a lump sum that cost me my career progression and future job prospects.

Now I'm working again and it's for a lower wage and the work is far more stressful - or does it just seem that way because I'm doing the work while also being a Mum ? I've mentioned before how my own mother worked full time, raised four children and made a home cooked meal every night. She did all this and balanced the family budget on less than I earn now with my part time salary (although I question whether 4 days a week is really part time as it doesn't feel like it !). I've always worried about money. When I had no money I worried about not having enough money. When I earned a lot of money I worried about maintaining my well paid work. Now I worry about having enough money and when I go out for a meal I still scan the menu to make sure I don't pick the most expensive dish and if have wine it's only ever one glass so that I don't go over budget.

We're not badly off by any stretch of the imagination, but I still worry because that's what I'm programmed to do. I ponder the career cul-de-sac I find myself in and any discussion that suggests my son is adversely affected by my being a working mother adds to my anxiety. Bottom line is that some women want to work and some women have to work. Some women choose to stay at home with their children and some don't get a choice. Creating these false walls and comparing apples with oranges doesn't put food on the table or get the children ready for school. It just makes some of us feel a little bit worse.

I don't know about you, but I really don't have time for all that. I have a Hubbie, a son and a cat to take care of. 

If I could turn back time… I probably wouldn't

I went to a work reunion this evening in Putney with colleagues I knew more than 12 years ago. It was a workplace where I genuinely knew other people's business and even though it was a large charity based on two separate sites I knew people in every department by the time I left. Part of this is because of my natural nosiness and part of it is because I was there at a significant time in my life.

• Shortly after I joined VSO I got married to my first husband. 
• Not long after that I left my first husband. 
• I moved back in with my parents, lost weight and cut my hair short - first the "Rachel" then proper short.
• Celebrated my 30th birthday on the London Eye with some of my colleagues invited. 
• My doomed infatuation with "Sid" who worked on the floor below and cycled to work - what was it about men from the North East with long dark hair ? 

In fact we were both fresh from bad break ups - he'd just separated from 'Mandy' and she took the kettle. I'd left and taken the iron even though I don't actually do ironing.

Maybe it's because I had so much turmoil in my personal life that I knew so much about my colleagues' lives ? Here's a representative sample: 

• The lovely lady with two young sons whose husband walked out leaving her and the boys.
• The soft spoken woman who had a bleed on the brain
• The man whose ambition was to drive Route 66, but had to pass his driving test first 

This morning I panicked when I realised that my hair really desperately needed a wash and I couldn't do it today. What if "Sid" was there ? I had no expectation that he would be or that he'd even know who I was any more. More to the point I am happily married so it really wouldn't matter. He wasn't there.

I left early as I'd spoken to the friend I wanted to see the most, but also because I kept having flashbacks. Evenings spent drinking wine and eating crisps in the Coat and Badge pub until very late. Sitting in dark corners wondering if "Sid" and I would ever progress from pub talk to dinner (we did) from dinner to dating (we didn't).

Still nostalgia is nice isn't it ?  

The princess and the pea revisited

Being back in work has given me a finer appreciation of the time management issues required when every member of the family has a separate schedule.

Hubbie is first up and has the longest journey to work, as a result he's the most tired of all of us. He leaves for work so early that he has to tiptoe around the kitchen making his packed lunch and having breakfast so as not to wake the boy too early. I get up a bit after him and try to get a few things done before the boy does wake up and starts yelling, "Good morning" from his bed.

On the days he goes to nursery the boy needs to be there at a certain time so that he can have breakfast and has decided this week to wake up at 6.30 (Mon) 8.00 (Tue) and 7.00 (Wed) then this morning because my sister was taking care of him he was up at 6am calling her to come and let him watch Postman Pat on her iPad. Tomorrow I'm at home with him so he's staying in bed until I'm ready for him no matter how early he's awake.

My schedule is looking a bit like the cereal advert where the Mum has already done half a day of sorting out before she gets to work. Don't misunderstand me, the boys are very helpful and pretty self-sufficient in the mornings. It's more the logistics of getting myself ready, the boy ready and to nursery, getting to work and then realising I haven't eaten yet and it's already ten o'clock. I used to get to work early so I could leave early in the afternoon. I'm not a desk hanger and have no qualms about leaving before everyone else, so arriving at work at 9.30 is entirely alien to me. I mean half the day has already gone !!

I'm not working on Fridays which is a blessing as I want to still get to have a day with my boy and it gives me a weekday to do things at home. Tomorrow we are having a new alarm fitted - with pet friendly sensors, so if the cat wanders round he won't set it off. Admittedly his manoeuvres are pretty limited at the best of times, but I don't want to be charged with wasting police time if we call them out to attend a moggy crossing the living room for a stretch and some cat treats rather than a burglar.

We will also be waiting in for the nice chaps from John Lewis to deliver a replacement mattress. I'm looking forward to a proper sleep again after a failed attempt to order a new mattress. A few weeks ago I decided it was time to get a new mattress for our bed and Hubbie pointed out that John Lewis were doing a free collection & recycling offer at the time. We had some vouchers kicking around so I ordered what I thought was a nice looking mattress for us. It arrived all rolled up and despite the kindly assurances of the delivery guys as they took our old - and four times thicker - mattress that it was meant to look like that I suspected something wasn't right. After a week of sleeping badly - and being increasingly bad tempered as a result - I finally checked John Lewis online only to find that the mattress I'd ordered wasn't intended for every day use, but as a guest bed (hence it arrived rolled up - that was my first clue).

Now being responsible types we had arranged for the old mattress to be collected and recycled at the same time as our new one was delivered so it's not even like we could put the old on back on and sleep on that. No, we've been sleeping on what is in effect a camp bed arrangement (albeit a king size one) until JL could arrange another delivery and collection of a proper mattress.

What this has taught me is:

• Ordering online late at night is not a good idea and simple things can go wrong

• A good night's sleep is more valuable than pretty much anything else

• All the planning in the world cannot compete with a toddler's body clock 

So fingers crossed that my boy decides to sleep in (at least a little bit) tomorrow.

Until the new mattress arrives I need all the rest I can get, even if it is on a camp bed !

Foodie Friday: My final fling - in the kitchen.

After much to-ing and fro-ing about hours and start dates I'll be back in the world of the working from next week. I am very nervous about it, but not because I'm worried about the boy. He will be doing an extra day at nursery and will be taken care of by his beloved Auntie or Hubbie on alternate weeks to cover the other day. This means he's taken care of from breakfast until teatime and I am let loose on the world from the time I drop him off to when I pick him up.

This week I've been making the most of our time together and it has been fraught at times. Apart from his ability to go from zero to high pitched tantrum and back again in seconds (just like his mother) he has also demanded a lot of attention from me as if he knows I'm going to be away from him. To counter this I've been baking and making things he likes. We made some oat and raisin cookies this week and he helped add the ingredients and stir the mixture as well as being the official taster for me. In my kitchen I keep a small ringbound notebook in which I store my most used recipes. Top of the tree is the perfect oat and raisin cookie recipe, by which I mean the ingredients list is less than half the page and it contains no more than one ingredient I haven't got already.

Even better is when I have a recipe that actively uses ingredients I have hanging around. I made a cake from frozen blueberries, fresh lemons and some butter that needed to be used up and apart from realising too late that the baking powder was past it's best it turned out pretty well. Hubbie likes it served with ice cream as a dessert so I've frozen it and will come back to it when the latest batch of cookies is finished and we are in the market for cake again.

Equally popular is the definitive banana bread recipe which uses up bananas that are past their best, freezes brilliantly and is just right for a packed lunch treat for Hubbie or a post work/nursery snack for the boys. I made it this week with fewer bananas and different butter and for the first time I actually enjoyed eating it too. I usually don't eat cooked bananas, but for some reason this one just hit the spot for me. I won't make a habit of it though as even with a walk up three flights of the narrowest stairs in London to get to my office won't counteract the effects of cake gluttony.

I am now faced with the prospect of taking a packed lunch to work again - which is tricky as I don't particularly like sandwiches. Hubbie has taken the same packed lunch since I've known him - he doesn't like change. I managed to swap out full fat for half fat crisps a few years ago and that was so traumatic for him that I daren't suggest any further substitutions for fear of the need for therapy. I suspect it's going to take a few tries before I get it right for me. After all I have to take my breakfast, lunch and possibly an afternoon snack with me as I'll be out from when I take the boy to nursery for breakfast until I pick him up at his dinner time. I can't eat too early in the morning so unless I have something healthy with me I risk a meltdown and low blood sugar late morning resulting in some very poor nutrition choices with so many cafes and coffee shops in Farringdon.

Cooking dinner may also require some forward planning as I'm not sure how inclined I'll be to roll up my sleeves and prepare food from scratch after a day at work. One of my favourite meals to prepare is the fastest veggie chilli recipe I have. It uses up leftover veg and always stretches to at least one more meal so it's efficient and timesaving. This is one where I pretty much pop all the ingredients into a large casserole dish and leave it to simmer with the occasional stir to stop it from sticking. Again it freezes really well so can be kept for a future date or an evening when Hubbie is out at football and I can't be bothered to cook just for me.

I mentioned at the start that I'm nervous about the new job. Not because of the boy. Not because of the logistics. Not even because of the travel. I'm used to being at home now. I'm used to planning my day with the boys in mind and a fairly open diary. I'm also used to doing my radio show and my yoga teaching and will be taking a break from both for the time being. You see I don't deal with change very well either.

So from Monday wish me luck with my new venture and pop a metaphorical note into my lunch to tell me it's going to be ok.

I'll try not to eat it by mistake :o)

I never drank the milk anyway, but that's not the point.

A couple of things discombobulated me today. Firstly it appears that the misguided clothing style from my teens has been appropriated into a 'revival' so I saw almost my entire wardrobe from when I was 18 in the shops this afternoon. It was disturbing to say the least seeing bold prints, bad trousers and (heaven forfend) bodies on sale again. As a wise woman once said, "if you're old enough to remember it from the first time it was in fashion you're far too old to wear it this time."

Secondly I was just about to go on air this afternoon and present my radio show, which today I'd subtitled "Spring Fling' in homage to a ball that they used to hold at my university. [For younger readers a ball was what you now call a prom] As I waited for my fellow presenter to wrap up her show I looked at twitter and saw this:

So my plans for a cheery and light hearted show with some fun tunes was suddenly threatened as I saw the steady stream of vitriolic and abusive messages with links to anti-Thatcher songs on social media. It was tempting to go with a show about the news, but it would also be out of step with my usual style so instead I just didn't mention it on air at all.

Instead I played music from my years at Uni as that era was fresh in my mind and they just happened to be songs that typify the Thatcher years as PM. In fact she once visited the campus as the University of Warwick was her favourite example of enterprise in further education. She arrived in a helicopter and a student - who is now communications manager for a local authority in East London that rhymes with Hower Tamlets - threw eggs at her. He wasn't doing a degree in PE so of course he missed. 

In the interests of full disclosure I hated Thatcher with a passion. So much so that I was actually angry at Meryl Streep for portraying her sympathetically in The Iron Lady. In my dating days I went out with a man who had her photograph in his upstairs bathroom and I was so horrified that he would do that (even for a joke) that in my head I already knew it was over. 

I grew up in a house where if she was on the TV my Dad would swear and change the channel. It was ingrained in us as children to hate her and to this day the sound of her voice makes me shudder. In my youth it was all the rage to call her a milk snatcher and Spitting Image portrayed her as an increasingly masculine character over the years ending with her smoking stogies and wearing a pinstripe suit. 

Now considering that on twitter I mostly follow people who hold similar views to me it's unlikely that I'd have seen any heart felt tributes to her, but I do have friends whose politics are very different from mine. It makes certain conversations difficult, but I have always been honest about how I feel about Thatch and the myth that she was a powerful force for women and feminism. 

I'm not celebrating or finding joy in her death. Not because of any mawkish sentimentality about her being an old woman you understand. She died peacefully in old age, in the comfort of the Ritz hotel and not in poverty or disablement. How very similar to her good friend Pinochet. 

So today while others are going apoplectic with rage at her past deeds and others are calling for a rational and measured response to her being accorded a ceremonial (not State) funeral I am celebrating something different. 

On Friday I went to a job interview after being a stay at home parent for most of my son's life so far. I wasn't sure if my suit would fit (it did) or if I would know what to say (I did) or if they would even offer it to me (they did). Now the hard part. I've asked them to consider part time hours so that I can still care for my son a few days a week. The salary does not cover full time childcare and I'm sure they could use the cost saving of part time hours as they are a charity. I find out their decision tomorrow, but if they don't go for my suggestion it's nice to know I can still get a job in these austere times.

So today is not about her, it's all about me.

Just the way it should be :o)  

When I grow up I want to be Siouxie Sioux

It's Monday morning and I've dropped the boy off at nursery, meditated, practised yoga and planned my radio show for later, so I have time for my "I don't like Mondays" style ponder.

Before I met Hubbie and I was a single girl about town I was less Bridget Jones and more Bellatrix Lestrange - in dress sense and temperament.  I did internet dating at a time when you would rather tell people about your toilet habits than that you met via the internet. It was for about a year and I was pretty honest with my friends about it as I needed them to make my emergency phone calls an hour into the latest foray into the world of meeting strangers who really were the definition of strange.

For example the man who looked like a young Elton John and told me how he attacked his neighbour and practised tai chi on the tube. I popped to the loo, asked my housemate to ring me as a get out - which he did - and then I proceeded to do the best acting of my life to get out of the date. How I ended up giving him a lift to Victoria station is not recorded in history, but suffice it to say if he was weird to have a drink with in a bar then how much worse was it to have him in the much smaller space of my car ?

Then there was the chap I dated who bragged about the value of his sports car, his Breitling watch, etc. etc. and then wondered why he only ever attracted women who were interested in money. He would regularly list the nationalities of all the women he had dated as though he was working through a list or ticking them off on a map of the world. He now lives abroad and posts pictures of himself flying planes and hanging out with what look suspiciously like ladyboys.

Not all the failed relationships started online though, I also met an ex-school mate - many years after we left school - at a friend's 30th. It was a few years later that we actually dated and I had memories of how gorgeous he'd been the last time I saw him so what I failed to see was that he was not at his best at that point. He'd had a massive breakdown and was living with his parents, drinking a lot and was generally not in a good way. He would arrange to meet me and turn up over two hours late and not entirely sober.

Now I know that trashing your exes is the preserve of crazy ladies who admit to knitting jumpers for their room full of cats. It's not classy, but to be honest I've got enough tragic material here for a book that would make less of a misery memoir and more of a desperate dating diatribe. I only really mention these case studies as an example of my credentials in offering advice to friends with relationship woes.

One beautiful yoga teacher friend who I met through her husband was in a toxic situation that I summarised for her was clearly about their physical attraction as they were so different in character. Another lovely friend was drowning in debt, but very much in love. I suggested she might decide whether she could be with him and not hold it against him that she paid for everything. I'm pleased to say they are very happy together.

I often wonder if I could be any cop as a counsellor. I did the training a few years back and having had a failed marriage and a chaotic dating history I think I've put in the ground work in person too. If knowledge is best achieved from personal experience then I'm pretty much qualified to be the new Claire Rayner as no one seems to have taken over from her kindly manner and no nonsense advice. I would say that against these pros there is one pretty big con and that is that I have a skin to few for the job. I take things far too personally - it's really a pain - and it's only getting worse as I get older. I'd like to be more like Tony Soprano's shrink. She is the ultimate listener who knows what he does for a living and yet keeps focused on the task at hand and appears not to judge him.

I feature a guest on my radio show every week and they talk about the work they do with passion and enthusiasm. It is inspiring, but also makes me wonder where my true calling or passion in working life lies. When I was younger I was experimental with my hair, clothing and career choices. As the title of this post suggests I had aspirations to become Siouxie Sioux (who shares my birthday by the way) or another colourful strong female. Now I'm pondering what I do in this next phase of my career having had a child, so you may get a few more of these rambling posts as I think aloud about what I should do.

Bear with me please. Unless you're a career counsellor in which case let me know what you think.

I am thankful for...

I'm not American, nor am I especially interested in celebrations that are American in nature, but I like the idea of giving thanks. Whether it's for a safe crossing and successfully displacing an already settled people or for a hot meal on the table I think it's a worthwhile exercise to consider what we have and to give thanks for it.

There are the big things we thank for - like family, health and happiness if we are lucky enough to have those. Then there are the small, but meaningful things like a lovely conversation with someone we don't see very often or a bargain that we weren't expecting to get. In my case having Hubbie at home for a few weeks has made me appreciate how lucky I am that the father of my son is so keen to be involved in his son's life and genuinely enjoys spending time with him (and me).

In the last few weeks I've found a few new things to be thankful for:

- The wonderful community of bloggers I've come to know and love who write beautiful things and share their thoughts publicly so I don't feel like it's just happening to me (about pretty much anything). It's also made me appreciate the women who support each other rather than get upset about the ones who try and bring other women down.

- My fellow presenters and lovely listeners who make me feel less like I'm talking to myself every Monday on www.croydonradio.com. The fact that I now have people asking to be guests on my show is wonderful. Today Robert Elms had a guest on who was on my show a few weeks back - I got him first and I'm feeling most smug about that :o)

- The lovely competition prizes I've won in the last few weeks meaning my son gets the Snowman on DVD for Christmas thanks to www.acupcakemum.co.uk and a lovely new baking book for me thanks to www.frankiesfancies.com. All without any cost to me - that's a bonus !

- Loyalty points schemes that I've quietly and diligently been saving with for months and thanks to which my son has an enormous garden playhouse (Tesco) and an electronic tablet thing (Boots) that we would never have bought otherwise. Hubbie has a leaf blower / vac thing (Nectar) that he's very pleased with and that means the whole back breaking task of leaf clearing is now less painful, but far noisier, more fun and he looks like a horticultural ghostbuster when he's using it.

The main thing I've come to be thankful for is that I have been doing this 'full time parent' thing for a while now and instead of feeling embarrassed or explaining it away I'm proud of my work as a Mum. In fact I've coined a term for it that reminds me of one of my favourite clothing companies:

The hardest day at home with my son beats the best day at work in an office (original 2012).