It's been four whole days since I resigned and it is now the night before I go back to work for the first time since I resigned. Before the rumour mill could begin to set itself in motion, I made sure that those colleagues whose friendship and support has been invaluable to me over the past 4 and a half years knew of my intentions in that very personal form of a text message.
My plans.
Well, I am busy planning my leaving drinks, James' 1st birthday and a camping trip for next weekend. For the first time in my life I have absolutely no idea what I am going to do after these very important fixtures which reside proudly on my Gruffalo Family Planner (which was free and has actually changed my life). It's bloody scary I can tell you!
Not only do I have to consider the financial implications of this decision, I also have to consider that other very important facet of my life: my sanity. However, I refuse to get completely caught up in these first world worries. As I said to my Headteacher, the worst thing a person can go through is seeing your child fighting for their life and as Rob and I have already been through that, I figure that everything else will work itself out.
Having said that, I can't completely say that the decision to resign hasn't bothered me or weighed heavily on my mind. I think you can probably tell, blog, that the fact that I am still wittering on about it suggests that I am far from being nonchalant about the whole thing.
This anxiety manifested itself in my actions when, on Thursday morning, I decided to take the kids to Music and Rhyme (a fabulous group that my friend runs) to take my mind off things only to find as I was reversing that I had put the children in the wrong car seats. Bethan was shouting, "mummy, I hurt" whilst James looked like he was the cat that got the cream as he embraced the gift of space that he had been granted by my mistake.
I started to laugh like a hysterical shrew which further unsettled Bethan who kept repeating, "What's mummy doing?" to which I replied, "I'm loosing the plot". As I was swapping the children and correcting the natural order of things in the back of the car, Beth kept saying, "Are you loosing the plot, mummy?"
It would have been more reassuring for my three year old child if I said no and she actually believed me which was hard considering I did the exact same thing on Saturday morning on the way home from her ballet lesson.
Indeed, Beth, when you read this entry in twenty years time, mummy was definitely loosing the plot but as you well know, that is a pre-requisite for survival at chez Hillier.
(As an aside, Cath Kidston replied to my tweet and favourited my comments on Twitter. That was the second best 30 seconds of the week. The first was Bethan doing a big poo in her potty this evening :-)
Showing posts with label drive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drive. Show all posts
Sunday 10th March 2013
We're back in the 'Swich! Fortunately (or unfortunately if you are betting on the entertainment stakes) it was a straightforward trip that had a few snow flurries along the way.
The most exciting it got was James throwing every single dummy I gave him between himself and the car door. Normally when James throws out his dummy either Rob or I will shout, "Dummy down!" but we lost our sense of humour after the fifth time.
Also, every time we drive through Penistone before or after we go over the tops, Rob sniggers uncontrollably. It really is like having 3 children at times.
I asked Rob if, when we got home, I could have a Mother's Day bath. This differs from a normal bath because it is an annual event whereby Rob can act as security and I am guaranteed a bath without having Bethan wanting to wash my hair at every given opportunity.
I wanted to relax in the suds whilst listening to the new Radio 4 production of Ibsen's 'A Doll's House' on BBC iplayer.
As the journey progressed I couldn't contain my excitement because a) after being 13 years away from uni I finally remembered Ibsen's first name and b) I would be able to shave my legs for the first time in 13 days without the fear of hacking off my ankle because I am so worried about what Bethan is up to whilst I'm giving myself the fortnightly MOT.
My enthusiasm spilled over into reliving memories of my time in Edinburgh when I went to see Chekov's "Three Sisters" at The Festival Theatre.
As Rob pulled off onto the slip road of junction 53, he said, "I didn't know Chekov from Star Trek had written a play". That and the Penistone saga got me thinking about alimony as we drove around the big roundabout outside the Asda's (where I'm from all of the major supermarkets are preceded by the definite article. If you just said "outside Asda" people would think you were daft).
It has been a beautiful weekend and now I'm back I feel sad but also very lucky. Seeing a good friend of mine dealing with raw grief made me realise, yet again, just how lucky I am.
22:39pm
Can't sleep so I thought I would listen to 'A Doll's House' finally on iplayer but it isn't 'A Doll's House', it's Hedda Gabler. I finally remember Ibsen's name and then forget what bloody play it is! Might just watch the Dancing on Ice final on ITV player instead.
The most exciting it got was James throwing every single dummy I gave him between himself and the car door. Normally when James throws out his dummy either Rob or I will shout, "Dummy down!" but we lost our sense of humour after the fifth time.
Also, every time we drive through Penistone before or after we go over the tops, Rob sniggers uncontrollably. It really is like having 3 children at times.
I asked Rob if, when we got home, I could have a Mother's Day bath. This differs from a normal bath because it is an annual event whereby Rob can act as security and I am guaranteed a bath without having Bethan wanting to wash my hair at every given opportunity.
I wanted to relax in the suds whilst listening to the new Radio 4 production of Ibsen's 'A Doll's House' on BBC iplayer.
As the journey progressed I couldn't contain my excitement because a) after being 13 years away from uni I finally remembered Ibsen's first name and b) I would be able to shave my legs for the first time in 13 days without the fear of hacking off my ankle because I am so worried about what Bethan is up to whilst I'm giving myself the fortnightly MOT.
My enthusiasm spilled over into reliving memories of my time in Edinburgh when I went to see Chekov's "Three Sisters" at The Festival Theatre.
As Rob pulled off onto the slip road of junction 53, he said, "I didn't know Chekov from Star Trek had written a play". That and the Penistone saga got me thinking about alimony as we drove around the big roundabout outside the Asda's (where I'm from all of the major supermarkets are preceded by the definite article. If you just said "outside Asda" people would think you were daft).
It has been a beautiful weekend and now I'm back I feel sad but also very lucky. Seeing a good friend of mine dealing with raw grief made me realise, yet again, just how lucky I am.
22:39pm
Can't sleep so I thought I would listen to 'A Doll's House' finally on iplayer but it isn't 'A Doll's House', it's Hedda Gabler. I finally remember Ibsen's name and then forget what bloody play it is! Might just watch the Dancing on Ice final on ITV player instead.
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