I know it’s our choice, but it’s a choice I’m really not liking right now.
I moved up to four days a week with work this week, and so far so good. But I’m hating getting to H at nursery around 5.30 every night, sometimes later (like tonight) when trains are delayed, we get home and rather than my little girl who would cuddle and tell me about her day, she’s now my slightly distant child who would rather sit and ‘read’ her books on her own.
Are we losing something now I’m doing more hours?
On the way home on the train I was convincing myself it’s time to find work that’s closer to home to claw back the precious time we can have – but let’s face it – I’m older, I have no idea what skills I have any more, nor my strengths – plus there aren’t that many jobs out there right now – and what I have right now is job security, even if it’s a pain in the backside commute-wise; and on a good day I can do door to door in 30 minutes – it’s because H’s nursery is near where we used to live – and switching nursery isn’t an option.
This all also coincides with my 13 year anniversary at work today, so chances are it’ll pass and normal service will resume tomorrow.
In the next five minutes my nap-deprived toddler will probably yell from the bath “MUMMYKINS!” and everything will start to go back to normal again. I hope.
I wont think about school just yet, even though I’m not entirely sure how on earth it’s all going to fit in.