I leave work at 4.30. I get the 4.41 train, and get to H’s nursery by 5.15. I’ve signed her out by 5.30ish, and we’re in the car and driving home, arriving back home at around 5.40 to 5.45 (depending on when I get to nursery – I can’t always get the 4.41 train).

I have fifteen minutes to play with H before I have to start cooking our evening meal. Tonight was no exception, we ran around in circles until we got dizzy, recreating a Ben and Holly ‘tag’ game until H could laugh no more. It was great, it really was.

Shaun gets home any time after 6, though it’s usually closer to 6.30 – by which time we sit together and have our family evening meal.

It makes me sad – almost 45 minutes from getting home and we’re eating… and yes, sure, H has played all day at nursery, but I get home and miss my quality time with her.

But that’s the choice I made.

This year work want me to do an extra day, as we’d talked about it initially, though I felt quite disheartened by being given data entry to do for the majority of my first year back, and not being able to do any of my old job which I loved doing. Everything depends on what nursery can offer, and they can’t offer anything until April at the earliest – and there’s no guarantee I’ll get the days I’d like anyway. Things are improving on the job front – although I’m starting to see black spots in front of my eyes which can’t be good? I don’t know what to do, but I’m glad to have three months to sort out my problems first.

But then there’s also a fourth day of this – a fourth day where I have fifteen minutes to play with H before cooking the evening meal. It doesn’t seem fair. She’s not scarred by it, it’s me.

I was lucky when I was brought up – my mum gave up work and became a full time mum for several years so she was always there. I can’t help thinking if I was to ever become a full time mum that it would (possibly) drive me up the wall, and I’m glad for nursery for H, if only for her to be around other children and have so many things she talks to me about that she’s done, or that happened – and it’s lovely.

I just wish I didn’t live in London, then maybe all this commuting and taking up so much time wouldn’t be as much of an issue. But I do, and this is what it is.