Five lessons learnt at my Mother's

Last week the Sun came back from his holiday from behind the clouds so I took my turn and spent a week at my Mother's house.

Here are five things that I learnt last week.

1. I missed the doing the housework

If you're a regular reader you'll be familiar with my loathing of housework. Conversations in our house often go a little like this:

Me: "We should definitely get a cleaner."

Boy: "You're home all day, why can't you do it."

Me: "I could spend more quality time with Lady F. That's what I became a SAHM for, not to do the meaningless housework that anyone could do."

Boy: "It would cost too much."

Me: "It's quite cheap and our place is small enough for it not to take too long." 

Boy: Exasperated look.

Me (desperately): "Besides, we would be giving someone a job that would need it. Think of the boost to the local economy!"

Boy: "It can't take that long for you to do!"

Me (grasping at straws): "I didn't spend 7 years studying to be a cleaner!"

So, it came as a shock to me that whilst I didn't have to do any of the cleaning at my mum's I found myself loading the dishwasher amongst other tasks. It felt strange not to be doing so. It's clearly become a part of my routine now, like the old men that still wear ties, 25 years after retirement.

Don't tell the Boy! I'm trying my best to let the dust pile up so he doesn't find out my 'clean' little secret.

2. Am I the only one that becomes a teenager again when they visit their parents?

I kept feeling as though my mother should be the one looking after Lady F. I have a child? She's my daughter? I'm not old enough, surely? I thought I got over this pinching oneself stage when Lady F was a couple of weeks old.

I'm convinced that had I stayed any longer than a week I'd have found myself listening to Take That, asking my mum for a lift to the phone box.

3. Super expensive mattresses are a waste of money

Lady F is a terrible sleeper. Always has been, to the point where I spent a ridiculous amount of money on a super comfortable mattress, hoping this would fix the problem. It didn't..

Miraculously, she slept the best that she's slept in a long time. In her terribly uncomfortable travel cot.

4. A taste of the future

As we were waving goodbye to my mum I suddenly had a vision of the future. One day Lady F will be waving goodbye to me. 

Then, I felt terribly guilty about not calling my mum enough and consequently spent the rest of the weekend on the phone. I think she was fed up of me by Sunday.

5. I'm turning into my Mother

The inevitable has happened. The thing we all swear would never happen, as moody teenagers, but it has. I'm my Mother. 

You know what though, it's not all that bad. She's a pretty fantastic mother and grandmother.

How do you enjoy your time at your parents? Do you come back relaxed or needing another holiday?

Photo credit: www.travelprize.com

The facebook generation

"You must have this if you want to appear cool. If you don't no one will like you. They will think you're weird."

You have just been listening to the voice of Peer Pressure.

The idea that I have to bring up a daughter in today's world is a scary prospect but is it really so different from when we were kids? 

 Peer pressure is a fact of life, whether young or old. Just consider Sophie the Giraffe, which has been around for decades. A celebrity is spotted with one and suddenly a child's teething toy defines the social acceptability of a mother.

I was an 80/90s kid. Then it was mostly about 'fashion'. We wore shell suits, Addidas stripes and Nike Air Max to fit in.

However, has Peer Pressure become dangerous for our children today, in its technological form?

Even more worryingly, it seems to be starting at a younger age. On my morning stroll around the neighbourhood with Lady F I overheard two girls, who couldn't have been older than 8 years old, trading an IPhone for a Blackberry. Is this so different from trading football stickers?

Then there's my 10 year old niece. In her desperation to join Facebook, like all her other school friends, she did so secretly. Obviously a 10 year old can't hide this from her mother for too long and she was subsequently grounded. Her mother refused, concerned about predators but is this really so different from the weirdo that used to hang out at our school gates?

Next, my niece again wanting to be like her friends was caught in a chat room, designed for kids, with a lot of swearing youths in it. She was again banned. Is this so different to what we heard in the school yard or out in the street on our bikes?

I'd say yes. It is different and the difference is the lack of control that we now have over who is behind the screen and what they are saying or suggesting. The exposure is greater than ever before. Or maybe, I've just become one of those pesky "in my day" people.

What do you think? Is bringing up a child now very different than our day? 

Photo credit: www.jeffbullas.com

Reasons to be cheerful

This is my second week joining in on this blog hope. Here are my tenious H reasons to be cheerful:

1. Hello Mr Sun. Ok, I know it's a weak H link but who isn't happy that the sun has been out all day. Not only that, it's forecast to stay. Yippee. 

2. Hippos, hungry ones at that. That was my favourite birthday present, ever, as a child. Now I have my own Child (I do sometimes still pinch myself) and she's about to get a stash of her very own presents for her FIRST birthday. I made it one whole year without doing anything too wrong. Woo hoo. 

 3. Heroes. The chocolate ones. My daughter is dairy intolerant and as I'm still breast feeding I've also been on a dairy free diet for a year. The are supposed to grow out of it by a year so we are slowly testing her. That means I got to eat my first piece of chocolate in a year today. Yes, before you ask, I did miss it. 

So, there you have it. Reasons to be cheerful, 1, 2 & 3.

Activity Challenge #2 A sensory walk

See the activity challenge page for more information about this post


What this activity is good for:

• Getting out into the fresh air has its benefits alone. It's supposed to help the little one sleep better and for mummy, walking is such a nice and gentle but invigorating form of exercise. 
• The world outside is so exciting for our little ones. Ever notice how we walk with a destination in mind and rarely get sidetracked. I'm lucky if Lady F even toddles in the right direction. A child will usually stop to see something that we would never have even noticed.
• The outside world is such a rich learning environment. Learn about the colours of the passing cars, flowers, trees and anything else you might see. Explore why there are puddles on the ground, why the tes rustle in the wind or if it's sunny, you could have fun with shadows. 
• Explore all of the senses. There's the sound of a car, the louder rumble of a lorry, maybe even a deafening digger. There are flowers to be smelt. Grass and pebbles to be touched. Let's leave taste out of this one! 

Requirements:

• The great outdoors. It doesn't matter if you live on the main road in a city or in a country manner, there will be lots to explore. If your little one is a bit older you could even get dressed up and pretend you're going on a safari. 

How it worked out for us:
This came about because the great British summer has been just that, British. It has pretty much rained every day recently until the sun made a rare brief appearance. I didn't need to think twice. We were outside before you could say 'take an umbrella just in case'. 


We had a great time exploring all of the above ideas. We smelt flowers, felt grass, kicked stones, pointed at cats and dogs, listened to cars, watched the leaves rustle in the wind. The list is endless. The best part was Lady F napped really well afterwards and I renewed my appreciation for this beautiful world that we live in. 


So I pass the baton over to you. Go and enjoy the great outdoors. 

 Photo credit: www.oragontravelcentre.com

Don't you just love it when...

1. You change a poo filled nappy. Minutes later it's poo filled again. Oh, and you're just about to go out.

2. In the middle of changing the aforementioned poo filled nappy the little monkey decides to flip over as you are reaching for the wipes.

 3. After struggling with the little monkey to get her in a nappy changing position again, you smear on the Sudocrem, only for the little monkey to flip again and get cream all over your trousers.

4. You turn up for an appointment, smugly thinking you're early to find you're a week too early.

5. You head outside into the sunshine thinking there's no way it will rain. I won't bother with carrying the extra coats around. A few minutes later it pours.

6. You head outside in the rain, duffle coated up. Hat on the wee one. You're thinking there's no way it will warm up. A few minutes later you're sweating and having to carry extra coats and hats.

7. You offer someone a lift home, only you've forgotten your car is a dump from the earlier bribe of "sit in your carseat and i'll give you every toy you own and lots of food".

8. You slide into your comfy bed with a weary body and tired eyes ready to slip off into the land of nod. Then your little one wakes up needing a special mummy cuddle.

9. You sneak into the little one's room to watch them sleeping only to fall over an offending toy and let out a little yelp of pain, waking them in the process.

10. The wee one just goes down for a nap, you sink into the sofa with a drink, slice of toast and your laptop, ready to indulge in a bit of you time and the phone rings / door buzzer goes.

Then your monkey gives you one of their cheeky grins and a special little cuddle and everything else doesn't matter.

Photo credit: http://www.legaljuice.com/

The smell of pregnancy

Have you ever time travelled? 

I'm not talking about Doctor Who or Back to the Future. No. I'm referring to the time travel that your senses take you on.

The kind where you hear a song on the radio or in a store that immediately transports you to another time in your life. A time you thought you had forgotten until that song plays and the memory is so vivid. The world around you disappears and you're 18 again rocking out to a band in a park. Or maybe you're with a first love or a good friend. 


You either want to turn the music off immediately or find the nearest laptop so you can replay it over and over again, full volume, on youtube. This time without the muffled calls of "turn it down".

The problem with a smell is you cannot turn it off.


I was incredibly sick during my pregnancy. Morning, noon and night. The toilet bowl and I became great pals. Smell was the biggest evil.

At the time I was living in a large block of flats, which was a melting pot of aromas. They would seep into our flat through the open windows and air vents. The windows stayed tightly closed. I even stuffed tissue into the vents.


The worst offender was the lady in the opposite flat. She would make a smelly curry based dish every night. The smell would slowly seep through. It made me so sick. My tactic was to spray as much of a can of Febreeze that I could, into the corridor, whilst holding my nose before legging it back into my flat to gasp for air.

Last week I time travelled.


I came home to the Boy, cleaning. He had found a can of Febreeze. One sniff and I was pregnant again, standing in my old corridor and ready to vomit. Despite wanting to gag I was also filled with a rush of happy contentment at the memory of the little life growing inside of me. Aside from the sickness, which eventually passed, I LOVED being pregnant.

What a great reminder.

How was your pregnancy? 


Photo credit: www.stockphoto.com

Blogging plagiarism and the Olympic Torch

I thought plagiarism was the domain of spotty teenagers that can't be bothered to do their homework. However, it seems the mummy blogging world is armed with the same sword. My blog has fallen, a victim of the word warrior.


I recently started following a mummy blogger who posts a lot. I'm talking a couple of times a day. At first I was envious of her ability to come up with so many new ideas AND have the time to write them with a wee one running around her house. Whilst casually browsing her blog one day I received my answer. I happened to notice that she had submitted a post that was almost word for word the same as a post of mine.


Now, I'm a new blogger, so maybe very naive. Perhaps it's quite common to 'borrow' an idea?  


I could name the blogger and doom her to virtual shame (not likely though, i'm not that popular). Or, mainly because i'm a coward but also because I actually really enjoy reading her blog, I could chose not to and be flattered instead. I'm chosing option two. What would you do?


The reason? Well, Lady F copies everything I do at the moment. She wants to eat with my spoon, brush her teeth with my toothbrush and her hair with my hairbrush. It easily follows therefore that how we respond to certain situations, as parents, affects the way our children will learn how to respond. OK, I know she doesn't have a clue about the blogging world but I have to start as I mean to go on.


Later on in the day I wasn't that shining example, though. 


We went to see the Olympic Torch pass through my local town. It was a fantastic atmosphere and the sun was shining. We were happily stood a few people away from the barrier when a very tall man asked me if I would like to come through to his place because he could see over my shortness very easily. We shuffled forwards, thanking the tall man. Then, we encountered a grumpy man. He had a child on his shoulders and proceeded to state loudly to his son "we've been here for two hours haven't we, only for annoying people to think it's ok to push in".


This is how the conversation proceeded:


Me (trying to stay calm and be a good example to Lady F): "The man behind let us through."


Grumpy man: "Snort"


Me: "Would you like this spot?"


Grumpy man: Ignored me


Me (losing my cool and stomping away): "You have completely ruined our day, you grumpy man!"


I then overheard him getting a good old telling off from his wife as I was wishing I'd no lost my cool and been a better example to Lady F.


Then we eventually made it back to the train station where there was a group of mums standing in a huddle enjoying a good ol' giggle. Good for them, I thought. Every mum needs that. Unfortunately, it was at the expense of their children. The kids saw this and took the opportunity to practice their best monkey impressions, swinging from the station signs dangerously close to the tracks.


A train station manager eventually came and reprimanded them and explained the dangers of carrying on. Ok, so she said it with a patronising tone but to my utter amazement the mothers started arguing with her. Telling her to mind her own business when she only had the safety of their children in mind. The monkeys children stood on watching and laughing.


That is how they have learnt to respond.


So, thieving mummy from that great mummy blog that I like to read. You can thank the grumpy man and angry parents that I encountered today. For the sake of being a good example to Lady F, you're off the hook. 


Photo credit: sodahead.com

Activity challenge #1 finger painting

See the activity challenge page for more information about this post.


What this activity is great for

• It provides a fantastic opportunity for your little one to work on their hand-eye co-ordination and understanding of cause and effect. I can imagine their thought process going a little something like this "Hmm Mummy, I need to put my hand in that colourful gooey mess. Ooo, what does it do? If I move my hand onto this clean piece of paper I wonder what will happen? How about if I rub instead of pat?" In fact I imagine the thought process behind most of Baby F's movements are "how can I make this clean thing dirty?".

• Paint is such a fun texture. It's thicker than yoghurt, thinner than puree and smoother than mashed banana so, it's likely to be a completely new feeling experience for your little one. Imagine feeling it for the first time again, especially imagine the squelchy, slippy nature of it running between your fingers. Euwww!

• It's also a fabulous learning opportunity. What a great way to learn about the vibrant colours. If you're little one is a little older than mine then they'll enjoy creating new shapes, patterns or maybe even pictures of the non-modern variety. Monet, eat your heart out!

Requirements

• a big splash mat

• a paint pallet of some sort, I used a plastic plate

• some washable children's paints, mine are Crayola

• some paper

• a bowl of water

• little fingers (and big ones too)

• in my case a frame to put the finished masterpiece in

• lots of creativity.

How it worked out for us
It was a rainy day and I figured, screw being clean and tidy.  I started off trying to put her pudgy little paws onto the plate of paint and then imprinting it onto the paper. She wasn't really interested in me moving her hands for her and didn't understand why I wanted her to pat everything. All she wanted to do was rub and pat the plate of paint. So, I left her to play her paint drum for a while, until the paint had transferred completely from the plate to the entirety of her sleep suit, hair and face. 


I was desperate for a picture of some sort to show Daddy so I then popped some little dabs of paint directly onto the paper and she quickly moved onto rubbing the paint on the paper, watching what happened and then doing it again and again. It was then I noticed that she noticed that she was creating the patterns on the paper, which was quite exciting to discover together. 


This activity did require quite a bit of patience with the mess, although we did manage to keep it all contained on the splash mat and her washable body. Also, I had to realise that although I wanted her to understand the activity straight away she wanted to be given the opportunity to fully explore these new surroundings before moving onto the actual 'painting'. As soon as I started to follow her cues she started to follow mine.


Enjoy painting and let me know how it worked out for you.

An ode to the Bath

We never really got on that well, did we Bath? I mean we weren't enemies or anything but we didn't really spend that much time together. We didn't have the opportunity to find out if we had anything in common. Let's be honest with eachother though. I thought you were boring. I know you were hurt because I didn't appreciate you.

Sorry Bath. I was wrong, but I was different back then, before I was a mother. I was selfish and I didn't even realise it. I thought I was always busy, that I didn't have time for you. Now you don't have time for me. You're too busy with toys and bubbles to have time for aromatherapy oils, magazines and candles. It's true what they say, that you 'don't realise what you've lost until it's gone'.

Bath, I now know what you mean to me. I want to let you know just how much I need you. I love that when I sink into you, you encourage me to let out a little sigh of contentment. How you manage to massage every single one of my muscles simultaneously. I love hearing the slow fizzle of the bubbles around my ears. I appreciate that you drown out all calls of my name when I sink below the surface.

Bath, I'm hoping we can be friends again. Maybe we could start with a Saturday morning when the other half  is home to babysit?

A dutiful mother.

Dear unannounced visitor

Dear unannounced visitor,

You turned up today without so much as a courtesy call. It didn't need to be far in advance. Five minutes would have been fine to give me enough time to throw everything in the bedroom and close the door.

In my fluster and embarrassment at the mess of my home I didn't get chance to share with you my excuses reasons why my house isn't tidy. So, here they are. Feel free to pick the one you believe the most and if you ever need to please do use one or two yourself.


1. Lady F spends a lot of time cruising around the furniture / crawling on the floor. I left the socks / bits of food / shoes / toys etc there to make life more interesting for her / practise her squats / in case she gets hungry.

2. We've been up all night with teething so we got up late today and my cleaning is behind schedule.

3. I'm still breastfeeding. Cleaning in my book counts as exercise and therefore might diminish my milk supply.

4. I don't want to disturb the spiders. They were here first, we just built our homes on their natural habitat.

5. It's a social experiment to see how long it takes for the boy to get the vacuum cleaner out.

6. I can't be bothered. Only use this one if you don't particularly want a relationship with the visitor and hence don't care what they think i.e. a door to door knocker.

7. It's none of your business. Only use this one if you don't particularly like the person and want to get rid of them as quickly as possible.

8. We're having a spring clean. This one also works as a car boot sale / clear out of the attic / garden sale.

9. Lady F is on a sensory tour of the house, learning and making memories.

10. I don't want Lady F to feel neglected. Children come before the housework. Every good mum knows that, right?

11. The cleaner has quit. Do you have the number of a good cleaner?

12. It is usually tidy. You just caught me on a bad day. Don't elaborate that every day is a 'bad' day.

13. I'm redecorating.

Otherwise, I enjoyed your company. Please do come again but next time do call first.

Kind regards,

An untidy mother

This is my first blog posting as a list and it was inspired by http://www.truthfulmothering.com/

Photo credit: http://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/m/messy_houses.asp

An ancient Chinese proverb and a smear test

I love getting mail. I'm not talking about the E kind. No, I love to get mail in my letterbox. There is something really satisfying about sliding a finger under an envelope flap and hearing the rip. So, imagine my delight this morning when the postman delivered a letter addressed to me AND it wasn't junk. I know, it doesn't take much to please me. However, in my defence it has been raining every single day recently. Lady F tried to grab the letters from me so I passed her one addressed to the boy to buy me some time.

My finger eagerly slides under the envelope flap. There's the sound. Rip, rip, ripppp. My excitement is terribly misplaced. I clearly missed the NHS logo on the envelope. It was a reminder for the dreaded cervical smear test. I could happily give up opening mail for a year just to avoid that letter. Don't get me wrong. I think it's an essential service but it doesn't make it any more of a pleasant experience. Although, I do have to wonder if it will be less uncomfortable now i've given birth? Just a thought.

Surely, this letter must be wrong. It wasn't too long ago that I had my last one and I know they are only offered once every three years. Then it hits me. Three whole years has passed since my last smear test.

Slow down Time. I'm not ready yet.

Is this what happens after you have a child? Time thinks you've had your fair share of slow time. It deems giving birth as the qualifier for your upgrade to the fast version of time. Is time like the internet? With varying download speeds?

When you're younger and you think back over the last three years you can remember that a lot has happened in your life. Now, it all seems to feel like yesterday. I was looking at Lady F and thinking, how on earth did you  get to be so big so fast?

Wait, didn't our parents always say something like this to us when we were kids?

Our parents weren't mad. It's actually true. My theory is this. We're told the best thing we can do for our children is to get them into a routine. With a routine comes repetitive days. Breakfast, play, nap, lunch, nap, play  / visits, dinner, bed. As our routines are repeated over and over it becomes difficult to remember how this week differed from the last. Time falls into the routine black hole.

Is this how it is it going to be from now on? Can we make a deal Time?

A few people have already tried to make a deal with time but have failed miserably so I don't like my chances. Firstly there was the inventor of Botox. As far as i'm concerned Time did not keep it's end of the deal. You can always tell that the difference between a younger woman and an older woman with botox. I'm not fooled.

Then there was the creator of the Per Una range at M&S. They kicked out all of their older 'fashion' range and brought in a younger style of clothing aimed at the older woman. They even brought Twiggy back from non-existence. Time dropped it's end of the bargain again. The younger generation failed to shop there and it became obvious that all of the mums in the school yard were wrongly wearing Jeggings.

Why can't we be more like the Chinese?


As a society we tend to focus on the negative effects of getting older. Have you ever noticed that most ancient proverbs are Chinese? That the wise person in Kung Fu Panda is old? Then there's the Karate Kid. That's because they are respectful of their older generation. Seeing them as wise people to learn from.

I'm hoping that we become more like the Chinese in our household as my daughter gets older. As I say, "in my day" she will hopefully reply "that sounds like an interesting story, Mother, do tell me all about your experience so I can learn from it."

Now, about that smear test.

Photo credit http://lukelimblog.com/how-to-manage-time-wisely-as-an-internet-marketer/

It's not called labour for nothing

The first birthday wheel has started to spin amongst my friends. Today marked the day of our first.

The party was for my friends third baby so it was fairly low key. No bunting, no banners just some leftover cake and an 'I'm One Today' helium balloon. Toys R Us threw up on the living room floor for the babies while a comfy sofa invited the mums in for some adult conversation, which of course rotated around our babies.

The babies ripped toys from one another's chubby hands and grabbed one another's faces. We tried to be dutiful mothers at first. "No, Mr L don't grab Miss F's hair." "That's an eye Miss E and it's not there for you to poke." At least we pretended. However, as the chat picked up pace the babies were increasingly ignored as they proceeded to use eachother as their personal climbing frames.

The conversation topic eventually stopped at childbirth. Of course, we all love to share our birthing stories. Mostly, I've realized it's because we love to show off. It's funny how as women we are so competitive about our birthing experiences. Maybe it's our way of making an experience, so special to us, but such a common one, unique. After all it's not called labour for nothing and we should be proud of ourselves.

This is how the battle commenced:

Round One - Baby weight.
Mum 1: boasts "my baby was a hefty 8lbs".
No one asks Mum 2 who can beat that so she cuts in patronisingly "Big baby but mine was 8lb7oz."
Mum 3: smugly "I've always had big babies, this  one was a 10lber."
Mum 4: Silence.

Why is baby weight such a boastful topic? Well done, you ate a lot. In honesty, don't we all went healthy but not too big babies because the logic is that they will be easier to push out. We're aiming for a small melon not a large one but if a watermelon is on the menu then every mum wants to let everyone know what a hard time she had. Mum 1 thought she had won this round hence why she volunteered the information Mum 2 cut in, thinking she could win it but was trumped by Mum 3, silently laughing.

Round Two - Painkillers.
Mum 3: "I managed to get through it without anything but gas and air."
Mum 2 & 3: "The birthing pool did wonders for us."
Mum 1: "I would never have the epidural again because it didn't work for me."

Mum 3 wanted everyone to know how hard worked so hard on her breathing technique. Even though no one actually asked. She probably left out the part where she screamed blue murder for an epidural when it was too late (was that just me?!). Mum 1 obviously thinks she's losing the boasting session so had to throw in that fact. The non-epidural mums were silently thinking, "whatever."

Round Three - Husbands.
Mum 1: "My husband is such a wimp he actually had to leave the room a few times."
Mum 4: "Can you believe mine fainted? And that was just when they were taking my blood, har har."
Mum 2: "Yeah, mine was all like, 'just keeping pushing you'll be fine'. Like i'm trying to open a sauce lid rather than PUSH A BABY OUT!"
Mum 3: "Poor you, my husband was amazing. Couldn't have got through it without him."

Mum 3 obviuosly didn't get the gist of this one. The wimpier the husband the more opportunity there is to show off about what a champion you are.

Tie Breaker - Would you do it again?
We all then proceeded to state how much we enjoyed the experience and actually it wasn't that bad. The obligatory, it was worth it in the end' was thrown in to compensate. I even heard every NCT teachers favourite, 'it was a positive pain'.

That night I relayed our conversation to the boy and ended on how it wasn't that bad, really. His response?

"You have forgotten!"


Photo credit: http://peachysmile.tumblr.com/

All grown up

When I grow up
I want to be
Ma-ny diffe-rent
People you see

Doctor or nurse
Who wipes a brow
So upside down
I'll turn a frown

Hairdresser too
I'll brush your hair
To make you look
Really so fair

Ra-cing dri-ver
I'll zoom around
Winning the race
Won't touch the ground

A sil-ly clown
Who likes to try
To make you laugh
So hard you'll cry

Maybe a maid
To turn a bed
And make a mess
Tidy instead

A fei-sty chef
With a tall hat
Whip up a meal
Won't make you fat

A school tea-cher
A, B and C
I'll help you win
The spell-ing Bee

My mum tells me
"Well that's nice dear
But you can only
Pick one, I fear"

Oh no, I say
It's so fun-ny
I can be all
When I'm mummy!

You kiss my knee
When I fall down
You brush my hair
And drive me round

You make me laugh
And keep me clean
Make sure I'm full
With more than beans

You teach me lots
I want to do
Just the same thing
And be like you


Photo credit: http://destinationhwood.blogspot.co.uk/

There's an end to the week?

In my previous world, every day started and ended pretty much the same way. Crammed in a tube. No, it wasn't a "honey, i shrunk the kids" situation. i'm referring to the London underground. The bit in the middle was what we call work. Okay, so my working days were fairly varied. Some days in x part of the country in x company meeting mr x. Other days doing the same, but with a y. However, it was still work. I still sat in front of a laptop all day, manipulating numbers. The weekends were there to mix it up and have fun. Oh, and get to the bank, post office and any other essential service that closes before the general working population finishes their working day. If you were lucky you'd make it during lunch hour, eating your sandwich on the go. Trying not to get the filling all over your trousers. Usually umsuccessfully,

These days my weekly schedule looks more like a holiday at Butlins. Each and every day is my own, well sort of, and I love it. Don't get me wrong, looking after Lady F is a full time job. But I get to create where and how the work is done.

What a great job.

I get to meet up with friends for a chat any time of day, well almost. I get to meet new people and not have our conversation dictated by an agenda to talk about this accounting standard or that issue. Even if now it's mostly this is how they sleep or that milestone has been reached.

I get to go swimming in the middle of the day. I get to sit in a circle of mums and babies singing silly songs.

I get to eat a lunch not from a packet or canteen serving yesterdays roast chicken as today's chicken curry, without having to make small talk with important people.

I get to laugh in the middle of the day, make silly faces and voices and not have my colleauges look at me like a crazy person.

I'm so grateful for my new job. The best part, it didn't require an interview.

The weekend?! What's a weekend?!


Photo credit: http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/feb/13/work-life-balance-week-thinktank