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 maternity leave. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maternity leave. Show all posts
Wednesday 27th February 2013
Bethan did her first wee in her potty! Yay! :-)
Unfortunately it happened whilst I was at work, Boo! :-(
When I got Rob's text I started shouting with happiness in the English Office; I'm sure my colleagues were confused and thought I was getting overly excited about meeting my new Year 8 class. When I explained why I was so euphoric I got the customary "Aww!"
Bethan's first wee on the potty isn't just a rite of passage for her it's also a huge confidence boost for me because I had got my knickers (no pun intended) in a right twist. I had started to convince myself that there was a problem when all I really had to do was promise Beth a trip to Snakes and Ladders at the end of her toiletry exploits and voila! It comes and goes for Bethan - she does it when she can be arsed to be honest. It's exactly the same as when we were waiting patiently (not!) for her to walk.
I suppose this is something most working mothers have to get used to. You do all of the ground work and the moment your back is turned and you are trying to explain the difference between a transitive and intransitive verb to a group of confused looking 13 year olds, your baby or toddler decides to take their first step or crawl or wee in their potty.
The kids are definitely as unsettled as I am, as is the cat but she's always pissed off to be honest. Besides the guilt of leaving them I have a) the guilt of missing important rites of passage b) the guilt of not being as entertaining as the nanny when I am off work and c) the guilt of being a Roman Catholic (I was a HUGE Alanis Morissette back in the day).
Another thing that cheesed me off today was that bloody woman famous for being on 'The Apprentice' again. Not content with offending parents who have children called Charmaine or children who have soft play birthday parties (to summarise, she is a snob and assumes these children have no academic rigour) one week later she is telling Phil and Holly and a rather large lady who is well-qualified and looking for a job, that she "would not employ a fat person because they are lazy and lack ambition". The This Morning team in their sub-heading labelled her a "fattist".
This was then followed by a commercial break where MacDonalds are claiming to be the Kofi Annan of the 21st Century non-nuclear family. Apparently all a young teenage boy needs to do is share a Big Mac with their prospective step-father and bang! Peace will reign in your household.
I give up.
Unfortunately it happened whilst I was at work, Boo! :-(
When I got Rob's text I started shouting with happiness in the English Office; I'm sure my colleagues were confused and thought I was getting overly excited about meeting my new Year 8 class. When I explained why I was so euphoric I got the customary "Aww!"
Bethan's first wee on the potty isn't just a rite of passage for her it's also a huge confidence boost for me because I had got my knickers (no pun intended) in a right twist. I had started to convince myself that there was a problem when all I really had to do was promise Beth a trip to Snakes and Ladders at the end of her toiletry exploits and voila! It comes and goes for Bethan - she does it when she can be arsed to be honest. It's exactly the same as when we were waiting patiently (not!) for her to walk.
I suppose this is something most working mothers have to get used to. You do all of the ground work and the moment your back is turned and you are trying to explain the difference between a transitive and intransitive verb to a group of confused looking 13 year olds, your baby or toddler decides to take their first step or crawl or wee in their potty.
The kids are definitely as unsettled as I am, as is the cat but she's always pissed off to be honest. Besides the guilt of leaving them I have a) the guilt of missing important rites of passage b) the guilt of not being as entertaining as the nanny when I am off work and c) the guilt of being a Roman Catholic (I was a HUGE Alanis Morissette back in the day).
Another thing that cheesed me off today was that bloody woman famous for being on 'The Apprentice' again. Not content with offending parents who have children called Charmaine or children who have soft play birthday parties (to summarise, she is a snob and assumes these children have no academic rigour) one week later she is telling Phil and Holly and a rather large lady who is well-qualified and looking for a job, that she "would not employ a fat person because they are lazy and lack ambition". The This Morning team in their sub-heading labelled her a "fattist".
This was then followed by a commercial break where MacDonalds are claiming to be the Kofi Annan of the 21st Century non-nuclear family. Apparently all a young teenage boy needs to do is share a Big Mac with their prospective step-father and bang! Peace will reign in your household.
I give up.
Tuesday 5th February 2013
I really need to stop having 'Lorraine' on in the background as I am sorting the kids out in the morning. Seriously, I really, really need to stop as there is often some well-paid pundit who makes my blood boil and foam at the mouth. Actually, the foaming is only because I am shouting at the TV whilst running around with some toast or porridge in my mouth as I try to clear up behind the children so we can try to get to some mother's group or other on time.
I absolutely love the eponymous TV presenter; she's kind, fair and always empathetic. Nevertheless, whoever vets the people who come on to commentate needs a good talking to. Taxi for the researchers and producers methinks.
Apparently, today, Nick Clegg is going to continue pushing through his plans with regards to maternity and paternity leave. As this is a mouthful I will now refer to it simply as 'matpat'. Apparently, from 2015, parents will be able to divide the traditional year’s maternity leave between them as they wish — with the one exception that mothers must take the first two weeks off after birth (Whatever you think about Mr Clegg, he is very generous).
Now, this is something I feel completely indifferent about because a) I don't understand how 'matpat' leave will work b) I'm too tired to try and even attempt to understand how 'matpat' leave will work and c) Rob earns more money than me so I reckon that if we were to take the 'matpat' option, we would be eating dust buttons and living in our shed whilst renting out our house until it was his turn to go back to work. I guess 'matpat' is like a game of tag but not as fun.
No, the reason my blood pressure went through the roof was not because I felt incensed about not fully understanding what 'matpat' meant, it went sky high because of the quip made by the male news commentator.
The young Fleet Street-esque chap was chuckling after Lorraine summarised the plans and he said under his breath, "I'd love it, all that time off work".
Blink and you would have missed it.
Thank God the female commentator quickly retaliated with a course laugh and a wry smile, "Yes, you just try and bring up 3 children at home."
There was lots of laughter and nervous giggling surfacing over the brief, terse exchange. This giggling also drove me mad because at that time James was throwing porridge everywhere whilst Bethan was running around like a loon. I certainly wasn't in the mood for joining in with the false frivolity.
It was definitely a case of foot-in-mouth as I imagined my peers around the nation throwing teethers and sterilising brushes at their TVs. I really hope this bloke didn't have any children or an other half who heard the comment. If he does, well, eating dust buttons will be the least of his problems when he gets home tonight. .
In other news, this time quoted from the BBC, "Police stopped a dance music event temporarily in Aberystwyth when they were told a baby was in the audience...(the Police said)"We understand the woman had left when the music stopped." Oh, that's alright then. They are not playing The Prodigy anymore so I'd better get back home before the CBeebies Bedtime Hour ends.
This story is wrong on so many levels. As a Manc who partied hard at the greatest clubs back in the day, I would be well miffed if someone pulled the plug whilst I was dancing like Bez from 'The Happy Mondays' to Faithless. I would definitely want a refund on my luminous plastic bangles and Mr Freeze Ice Pop.
I absolutely love the eponymous TV presenter; she's kind, fair and always empathetic. Nevertheless, whoever vets the people who come on to commentate needs a good talking to. Taxi for the researchers and producers methinks.
Apparently, today, Nick Clegg is going to continue pushing through his plans with regards to maternity and paternity leave. As this is a mouthful I will now refer to it simply as 'matpat'. Apparently, from 2015, parents will be able to divide the traditional year’s maternity leave between them as they wish — with the one exception that mothers must take the first two weeks off after birth (Whatever you think about Mr Clegg, he is very generous).
Now, this is something I feel completely indifferent about because a) I don't understand how 'matpat' leave will work b) I'm too tired to try and even attempt to understand how 'matpat' leave will work and c) Rob earns more money than me so I reckon that if we were to take the 'matpat' option, we would be eating dust buttons and living in our shed whilst renting out our house until it was his turn to go back to work. I guess 'matpat' is like a game of tag but not as fun.
No, the reason my blood pressure went through the roof was not because I felt incensed about not fully understanding what 'matpat' meant, it went sky high because of the quip made by the male news commentator.
The young Fleet Street-esque chap was chuckling after Lorraine summarised the plans and he said under his breath, "I'd love it, all that time off work".
Blink and you would have missed it.
Thank God the female commentator quickly retaliated with a course laugh and a wry smile, "Yes, you just try and bring up 3 children at home."
There was lots of laughter and nervous giggling surfacing over the brief, terse exchange. This giggling also drove me mad because at that time James was throwing porridge everywhere whilst Bethan was running around like a loon. I certainly wasn't in the mood for joining in with the false frivolity.
It was definitely a case of foot-in-mouth as I imagined my peers around the nation throwing teethers and sterilising brushes at their TVs. I really hope this bloke didn't have any children or an other half who heard the comment. If he does, well, eating dust buttons will be the least of his problems when he gets home tonight. .
In other news, this time quoted from the BBC, "Police stopped a dance music event temporarily in Aberystwyth when they were told a baby was in the audience...(the Police said)"We understand the woman had left when the music stopped." Oh, that's alright then. They are not playing The Prodigy anymore so I'd better get back home before the CBeebies Bedtime Hour ends.
This story is wrong on so many levels. As a Manc who partied hard at the greatest clubs back in the day, I would be well miffed if someone pulled the plug whilst I was dancing like Bez from 'The Happy Mondays' to Faithless. I would definitely want a refund on my luminous plastic bangles and Mr Freeze Ice Pop.
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