#workingmum

Je m’appelle Léa, j’ai 28 ans et je suis maman de 3 filles: Julia qui a 3 ans, Eva et Lena qui ont 11 mois (Oui bientôt 1 an déjà qu’elles ont chamboulé nos vies !).

Depuis quelques mois, je partage un bout de mon quotidien sur Instagram (@leaatwins), et j’ai décidé de me lancer dans un blog, pour continuer à partager ma petite expérience de la maternité et de la parentalité, de mon quotidien de famille nombreuse, mais aussi pour partager des conseils et des activités (que ce soit des activités manuelles, des promenades ou autres..), le tout dans un esprit d’échange et de bienveillance !

J’imagine ce blog comme un carnet de bord ou j’y raconterai mon expérience et mes astuces, mon organisation et mes humeurs.

Bienvenue chez moi,

Léa

From a diary of a working mum...

After another restless night, the alarm buzzed at 05:45, but I snooze it until 06:20, as it’s nearly Friday and getting up is a real struggle. Theia decides to wake up with me, which sucks, as I cannot spend an hour in pure silence, but there you are.

My incredibly dramatic and whiney child decides to tantrum through her morning, throwing every option of breakfast straight at me, whilst I make coffee to keep my eyes half open. Don’t get me started on the dog and cat, tangled between my legs, demanding feeding. It wasn’t until 7:00, that I actually got a move on, otherwise I would have fallen asleep on the sofa.

I make Theia’s lunch and pack her nursery bag. Dress her, brush hair, using my phone as an item of bribery, if not, she would go to nursery looking homeless. Encourage to brush teeth. Dress myself, make up, hair. We are out of the door just after 08:00 (first time this week!), I even squeeze in a quick natter with my mother.

Theia is throwing yet another tantrum as at the tender age of nearly 2, she has suddenly lost the use of her legs to get to nursery, so I carry her. If my back could gesticulate, it would show me a prominent middle finger for doing that daily. Theia successfully placed in nursery, so I run home, quick sip of my cold coffee and I’m on my way to work to start at 9.

Work - demanding, eventful, tiring, but in a sick and twisted way, fun as always. By midday, I want to bash my head against the computer and pass out, in hope for a wink of sleep. Three coffee’s later, it’s 17:00, at last! I’m going home. Quick trip to the shop as I ran out of the magical potion of sanity - coffee - and straight to pick up Theia.

Theia was good at nursery, what a relief. No bumps on her head as a result of silly behaviour or time out in the managers office. I bribe her once again, this time with chocolate, to let me carry her home, otherwise she bolts to the park and that’s a shit storm of its own kind, because whatever the weather, swings are life. Get home, another coffee. Coffee doesn’t even scratch the surface anymore; at this point of the day, I strongly consider illegal substances to give me a boost.

I rush downstairs. Start cleaning the kitchen, garden, laundry on, I still haven’t put the dry washing away, but surely it can wait till Christmas? Bathroom cleaned, toilet scrubbed. Hoovered, due to the dog destroying a shoe box, one of my shoes from the charity shop (which cost £3) and various leaflets. Air freshening the living hell out of the house, because it smells of wet dog.

Dinner is nearly ready. I finally take my shoes off and sit down... the clock reads 21:50. I finally sit down, to have my dinner...

So please, don’t question me, when I’m nearly falling asleep at my desk. When I don’t laugh at every single joke or want to engage in social interactions. When I’m tearful for no reason, due to the state I’m in, as I can literally feel the hormones buzzing within me. When I suddenly lose the will to live. When I snap, bite and frown. I’m not asking for admiration, pity or even a gold star. Just understanding. Being a working mum is rough and today is a proof of it. I’m just trying to survive yet another day. Over and out.

Edit:

Mum #1

So this week, I took the plunge and went back to work. I got a job last year and last week I finally started. It’s only part time job but it is something. I am going to work. To be honest a part of me is really content with being a stay at home mum, I like the life, but there are two reasons I went back to work. One, my daughters father does not pay one cent in child support, not one and so to avoid struggling with my finances I like many others, must work, this is the main reason. And two, we live in a world that is obsessed with everyone having a career, people are so proud of me now that I work, they think I am moving forward or something. Personally I am doing it to have more to do not because I am really career driven. I am not that kind of person and I think that’s ok. 

Anyway moving along, me going back to work means that my daughter will be looked after by different people. My dad, her grandfather will take one day, close family friends will take another and she will go to child care for one day. 

The child care process is a long process, child cares in this country have long ass waiting lists so I started looking into them as soon as I started looking for work, I didn’t even have a job yet but I needed a child care ready to go. Once you have a child care then you need to have several orientation days so that your child gets use to the centre before their first day. Willow’s first day was yesterday and the whole night before I was just holding her and telling her how much I loved her and telling her to give child care a chance. You see child care is actually an extremely emotional process too. It is the first time you’re leaving your baby the whole day with people you don’t know very well. Willow has seen this coming too, in the orientation sessions she is there for one hour without me. I sit in another room as she gets use to the child care. I can hear her cry most of the time and my heart just turns inside out. How can I do this to the little human I love most?  Is it even worth it? The answer is yes, I have to do this to save money to eventually buy a house of my own, and in the long run she will learn to love it, it has a playground and lots of toys and she will make so many friends. I keep telling myself this. 

There is a week in between her actual start date and orientation and in between she had to be babysat three time as I had officially started work and each time I heard from my friends and family that she had cried quite a lot and she was upset when she couldn’t find me. In one way I tell myself that this is ok, at least she always will look for mummy, that’s assuring but on the other hand I feel so bad that I have to leave her. Willow and I are quite a tight unit, being a single parent I am solely the person she learns on. We do almost everything together and with co sleeping she doesn’t even have that separation at night.  But that’s how we work and how she likes it, I am happy to be her world as she is mine. 

By time it is child care day I get her ready and hold her tight and laugh with her, I tell her how much I love her and how I’ll be back to see  her in the evening. My mother is the one who actually drops her off and picks her up as my shifts start early and finish late. I hold in my tears as I go to work telling myself working is going to create a better future for us. I called twice during the day, the first time they told me she cried a lot and was struggling, my heart dropped and I just prayed the day got better. The second call had better news, she had a two hour nap with the other kids and was now eating her afternoon tea, she hadn’t had much during the day but finally was settling in. When I finished work I rushed home and saw her in the driveway with my mother and when she saw me she squealed “MUMMY’S HERE!” in her high pitched girly excited voice and she reached out for me and put her little arms around my neck, as I picked her up and held her, and kissed her face.  My insides were singing, day one of childcare was done and she was ok, we missed each other but it was ok. 

So I had a KIT day today. That’s a Keeping In Touch day for those unfamiliar with the term, or for those who thought it was maybe something to do with Kit Harington. Or KitKats. Sadly it’s neither.

I’m lucky enough to work for a company who are extremely supportive of those on parental leave, and KIT days (whilst not mandatory) are wholly encouraged. They are a good opportunity to do the odd few days here and there, and to get a feel for what’s going on so that when you do eventually return to work, you don’t feel like an H&M-clad rabbit caught in the headlights.

For me, it was mainly an opportunity to indulge in some minor smugness at how the place has (surely) crumbled to dust without me in the office every day. I expected to walk into something that resembled a scene from Mad Max, with burnt out vehicles, explosions going off, and everyone running around screaming.  Disappointingly (but also, secretly  – thank CHRIST!) the place is still standing. Rather boringly, all the stuff that I waddled away from in May is completely under control. And whilst my entire world has altered beyond all recognition since I last logged onto my laptop, everything back at the office is pretty much business as usual. Except they’ve changed the supplier of coffee in the canteen. Meh….

“Going back into work for the whole day? Oooh you must be dreading that” said someone to me recently, as though I’d just told them I’d elected to undergo root canal surgery with just a shot of rum as an anaesthetic.

Dreading it? Are you effin’ kidding me?! I was bouncing around last night like Buddy the Elf on Christmas Eve. Despite the fact that yes, it’s “just” going back to work, here’s why today was so bloody brilliant:

 1.       Someone asked my opinion today. Yes, I know! Asked ME my opinion! About an actual THING! A WORK THING!!  Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t anything major like which aircraft should adjust its altitude to avoid a mid-air collision (I wonder if Air Traffic Control do KIT days?!) but it was still nice to be asked my opinion about something.  Actually that’s a bit unfair. I’m asked for my opinion at home all the time. However such tenders for my wisdom tend to be along the lines of whether I think that yellowish mark on the duvet is shit or vomit, or whether it’s worth starting a new episode of Game of Thrones before the Calpol wears off.

 2.       There were biscuits. But not just that – they were chocolate biscuits. And I ate one, and so did other people as we discussed what had been happening and what projects were on the horizon. And as I watched people eat biscuits I realised something truly liberating – when the crumbs fell on the floor, it wasn’t down to me to ensure those crumbs made their way to the bin! Whilst it’s true to say that none of my colleagues were exactly tidy with biscuit crumbs, it was also nice to note that nobody attempted to shove an entire biscuit into their mouth, orally maul it for so long that it resembled wallpaper paste, and then spit it back out onto the floor.

  3.       I had an adult conversation. Now, you’ll note that this is distinctly different than merely “conversing with adults” as in mum-world, these two things are not the same. Clearly I speak to people at baby groups, but the conversations are all around whose baby is or isn’t sleeping/teething/crawling/rolling over and all that bollocks. It’s lovely to chat to other parents at baby groups, it really is, but I’m yet to come across a scenario where anyone sits down, wipes up a patch of baby vom from their t-shirt and opens with “A bit of sick – ha! Not as embarrassing as the latest leaked Brexit report eh?!”

On the whole I find the dads in the groups a bit more game for conversation that’s NOT about our respective semen-demons. You can throw in something general about the football transfer window, and as soon as they realise you’re not about to talk about your fanny, or show them your episiotomy scar then they’re generally willing to open up a bit….no pun intended.

 4.       I earned some money. The beauty of KIT days is that you get paid for them…..hurrah!  And I can’t exactly say it was one of the most stressful days I’ve ever had in my life (see above points about chatting and eating biscuits) so I got to dip into the world of paid work without bringing any of the stressful malarkey back home with me.

 5.       I appreciated my little guy all the more for being away from him. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I firmly believe this is true for me. I knew he was safe with his Aunty Danielle – the main risk was him being kissed to death – so I could forget about him (in a good way) for 7 hours and just look forward to seeing him when I got home. And as most of my meetings finished by 4:30, I made sure that I really tested out this absence/fondness theory in full, by calling at the supermarket on the way home. It was amazing to be able to browse leisurely around the fruit aisles without having to stop anyone grabbing and biting into Conference pears that I had no prior intention of buying .Oh, and also:  just a sexy, bijou little shopping trolley for me tonight - no big bulky child seat trolley on THIS shopping trip, motherfuckers!

 6.       I felt a bit like the old me again. It’s true to say that I had a fair few “brain fart” moments where I completely forgot the names of projects, people and terminology that was once second nature to me. But I defy anyone to hear the Paw Patrol song every bastard morning and not find themselves a few functioning brain cells lighter than they were previously.