As I feared this poor blog has taken a bit of a hit in recent weeks. I'm going to blame working full-time, being pregnant (i.e. bloody exhausted) and wanting to spend as much time as possible with my little guy in my time off. I have to say it has been totally worth it and I've not regretted a minute of the last 6 weeks. I have however, learned that I really shouldn't commit to writing a regular, weekly Top Tip post when I there is no possible way that I could see that through. For the record, I've also abandoned my friends, husband, the dog, the garden, my hopes for a quiet life and daytime naps.
Anyway, that is all about to come to an end and I will be a lady of "leisure" (aka bored housewife) once again. I finish work on Friday. Contrary to what you might be thinking, I didn't pack it in because it got too hard, and I didn't totally screw up and get fired (unless you count getting pregnant, which is actually my husband's fault), I have simply been replaced. The school started recruiting as soon as they learned I was pregnant and happened to find a top-notch candidate immediately. Awfully convenient for them, but just plain disappointing for me. I was considered a top-notch candidate myself not so long ago... So despite completely dreading the idea of going back to work full-time, and feeling quite sick and whinging non-stop for the first couple of weeks, I went on a very long and complicated mental journey where I overcame all of those obstacles, pushed aside my doubts, battled my demons etc and came out feeling quite positive about it all. And I actually really liked it, much to my surprise. I hated having to set an alarm and I hated the screaming, clinging, soul destroying protests of my son as I tried to leave each morning, but I loved the work. I loved being needed for something more than apple juice and transport to playgroup. I loved having adult conversations all day and having something other than poo and tantrums to discuss at the end of the day. I loved having to care about what I looked like when I walked out the door, and having a reason to blow dry my hair (not that I had time for that mind you). One of the best things about working was going to the ATM at the end of the month and still having cash in the bank! Getting to know a whole new group of lovely people and awesome kids was just the icing on the cake.
I was late almost every morning and I left early every afternoon but I was driven to keep going every day by the commitments I had made; to the school, to my husband and to a career that was going nowhere very fast. I'm kind of bummed that, in the end, the school wasn't as committed to me as I was to it, but I got so much out of the experience that I'll get over it. Just like I got over the fact that I had to leave my son behind every day, that I wasn't there when he split his head open on a playdate (I was there as the Dr stitched him back up though), and that I haven't had any time for anyone or anything else lately.
I'm really not sure how I'll feel when the new school year rolls around in August 2012 and I have a 2 year old and a 6 month old baby but I am so glad that I listened to all of you who told me I could go back to work and everything would be ok. I know what I need to be doing when I do decide to go back again (or when the kitchen drives me mad) and it was worth it all just for that. For now I'm committed to getting fat, spending quality time with those I love and throwing out that damn alarm clock! And maybe, just maybe I'll have time to start writing again...
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Empire State of Mind
Today, as I remember the events of that awful, godless day, I'm still deeply sad. Sad for the individual losses: for those who died and the fear they must have felt, for those who lost loved ones, the children who will never know their fathers. I'm sad for what we lost as a global community, all those lives, that innocence, that sense of freedom that was replaced with shock and grief and fear. But while I'm sad, and at times a little afraid, I'm remembering with overwhelming respect and admiration those who survived. The world's most celebrated, most resilient, most amazing city and the way it picked itself up and rebuilt. Those who refused to let the bad guys win, and those who turned a horrible tragedy into inspiration to live a better life. The people who honour their lost loved ones by continuing to live one day at a time, one foot in front of the other. And each and every person who remembers exactly where they were that day. They give me hope that my son will never know a day like 9/11.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Secrets and Lies
I'm afraid, dear readers, that I have been keeping a pretty big secret for a while now, and it's been tough. I'm not good with secrets. I can keep other people's without hesitation, but my own, especially when there really aren't any consequences for blabbing, are a lot less likely to stay in the vault. It's even harder when your secret is good news. Once you've confided in one friend, it's easy to confide in a few more, and then suddenly you're announcing it to the other mums at playgroup. There were people we had to tell - a few key family members, and then of course there was the inevitable, "well, if they know, we really should tell..." I had to tell my boss, even before I told my parents, and then I felt bad that all my colleagues knew and so I shared it with a few more friends.
Like winning the lotto and not having the money in the bank yet, this unexpected piece of news didn't feel real until I told people. While I felt guilty telling virtual strangers, it was easier to tell people who weren't emotionally invested in it. If it had turned out that we'd had our numbers wrong, it would've been a lot easier to accept sympathy from the neighbours than having to deal with those closest to us, who also would've felt like they had lost something. The thing I struggled with the most was not being able to blog about it. I'm so honest here that it felt wrong, almost like I was lying by omission, to keep it off these pages. I promised my husband there would be no cyber announcement of any kind until we had told all of our family members. This of course led to a heated debate about who we each consider to be "family."
I did, despite having a very big mouth, feel quite protective about my little secret. I wanted to choose who I told and when I told them, and I hoped my close friends would hear it from me before it made its way around the grapevine. I had a few people ask me outright if I had recently had some good news. I have to admit I denied it a few times, and those closest to me here denied it on my behalf (thank you dear friends!). I did feel bad denying it and even lying about it, rolling my eyes melodramatically while exclaiming, "oh no! Definitely not!" It did get progressively harder to deny, and was made harder by the fact that I have been walking around looking like this for several weeks now...
So you see, despite my fairly recent protestations about not being ready for another baby, mother nature clearly had other plans and I am 13 weeks pregnant. We knew we'd have another one eventually, but we've got a lot going on this year, so it wasn't on the agenda at all. Once the initial shock wore off and the nausea set in, it all felt very real, and I had a serious case of deja vu - it really didn't feel like that long ago that we were in this position. The last time I fell pregnant without trying to, it didn't end well, so I really felt like this one wouldn't stick either, which is crazy I know. Until last week I felt like death, sicker than I've ever felt before. This time round it's like extreme pregnancy - I'm sicker, more tired, ferociously cranky one minute and desperately weepy the next (so, now you might understand why going back to work was so tough!). But despite all that I'm absolutely thrilled. Each week that has passed, every time I've seen my little button on an ultrasound or heard his or her heartbeat, I've done a little dance and I could not be happier. As you can imagine, 13 weeks of keeping this to myself has meant that I have a lot of things to say on the subject, but for now I just wanted to get it off my chest, finally! We're 6 months away from becoming a family of four, life is sweet, the secret's out.
Like winning the lotto and not having the money in the bank yet, this unexpected piece of news didn't feel real until I told people. While I felt guilty telling virtual strangers, it was easier to tell people who weren't emotionally invested in it. If it had turned out that we'd had our numbers wrong, it would've been a lot easier to accept sympathy from the neighbours than having to deal with those closest to us, who also would've felt like they had lost something. The thing I struggled with the most was not being able to blog about it. I'm so honest here that it felt wrong, almost like I was lying by omission, to keep it off these pages. I promised my husband there would be no cyber announcement of any kind until we had told all of our family members. This of course led to a heated debate about who we each consider to be "family."
I did, despite having a very big mouth, feel quite protective about my little secret. I wanted to choose who I told and when I told them, and I hoped my close friends would hear it from me before it made its way around the grapevine. I had a few people ask me outright if I had recently had some good news. I have to admit I denied it a few times, and those closest to me here denied it on my behalf (thank you dear friends!). I did feel bad denying it and even lying about it, rolling my eyes melodramatically while exclaiming, "oh no! Definitely not!" It did get progressively harder to deny, and was made harder by the fact that I have been walking around looking like this for several weeks now...
So you see, despite my fairly recent protestations about not being ready for another baby, mother nature clearly had other plans and I am 13 weeks pregnant. We knew we'd have another one eventually, but we've got a lot going on this year, so it wasn't on the agenda at all. Once the initial shock wore off and the nausea set in, it all felt very real, and I had a serious case of deja vu - it really didn't feel like that long ago that we were in this position. The last time I fell pregnant without trying to, it didn't end well, so I really felt like this one wouldn't stick either, which is crazy I know. Until last week I felt like death, sicker than I've ever felt before. This time round it's like extreme pregnancy - I'm sicker, more tired, ferociously cranky one minute and desperately weepy the next (so, now you might understand why going back to work was so tough!). But despite all that I'm absolutely thrilled. Each week that has passed, every time I've seen my little button on an ultrasound or heard his or her heartbeat, I've done a little dance and I could not be happier. As you can imagine, 13 weeks of keeping this to myself has meant that I have a lot of things to say on the subject, but for now I just wanted to get it off my chest, finally! We're 6 months away from becoming a family of four, life is sweet, the secret's out.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Top Tip Tuesday - The Mini-Break
Macau - Not overly romantic unless you're into casinos and smoking Chinese men around every corner, but Macau is far enough away that you do feel like you've gotten away, but close enough that you could be back home in under 2 hours if you needed to be. We stayed at the Venetian when we visited, but I'm very keen to check out the new Galaxy (especially the Spa) at some point. Ferries run every half hour throughout the day and if you're feeling really indulgent and romantic, there's also a helicopter service. Make sure you make the effort to visit the old town and experience some of the local culture.
Hanoi - Hanoi (Vietnam) is one of my favourite places in the world. We've been there a few times now and we've seen different sides to it each time, it's a truly fascinating place. Hanoi is only an hour and a half flight from HK and there are several flights a day. I should mention that you will probably need a visa to enter the country, so there's no room for spontaneity, but really, how often can you be spontaneous these days? There are many, many accommodation options with hugely varying prices and standards but for a couples retreat you can't go past the Sofitel Metropole, the best hotel I have ever had the good fortune to stay in. It's tucked away in a quiet part of the Hoan Kiem district, but it's walking distance from all the action of the markets, street stalls and the beautiful Hoan Kiem Lake. But you may not want to leave the hotel...
Singapore - Singapore is similar to Hong Kong in a lot of ways, but so different in others. The Singaporeans do luxury very, very well, and with the city being only 2 hours flight from HK it's a tempting option. Wherever you stay, must-do activities include: a trip to the awesome Singapore Zoo, shopping on Orchard Road, dinner at Clarke Quay and a Singapore Sling at the gorgeous Raffles Hotel. Or book a night at the Marina Bay Sands and stay right where you are until it's time to go home.
Phuket/Bali - While I love the idea of lazing on a beach without a sandy little hand dragging me down to the water (actually, I lie, I love the sandy little hand!), a trip to Phuket (3.5 hours) or Bali (4 hours) might be too far for some, especially if you're leaving little ones behind. We had a weekend in Phuket a few years ago (Friday to Sunday) and it was lovely. The only downside was leaving on Sunday afternoon while our friends were still in the pool, getting home at 11pm and having to work the next day... However, there are loads of hotels catering for couples (check out http://www.tripadvisor.com/) and the flight schedules do allow for a decent break if you choose to just go for a weekend. If an afternoon nap, a lazy swim, dinner and cocktails on the beach, a sleep in and a leisurely brunch before your late afternoon flight sound worth the 4 hour flight, then these are definitely great places to try.
Hong Kong - Believe it or not, it is possible to have a mini-break right here in our hometown. I know a couple who routinely book a night at a nice hotel in the city just to catch up and get a good night's sleep. If it's a special occasion and you can afford to splash out try the Peninsula, Intercontinental, Four Seasons, Mandarin Oriental or the Island Shangri-La. Whether you're pressed for time or you just hate the idea of being in a different city to your kids, a romantic 'staycation' might be the answer. For great hotel deals check out Booking.com.
As I said, this mini-break concept is new to me, so I'd love to hear from you if you have any other ideas or recommendations. Here's hoping some of you are inspired and find some useful information here!
Saturday, August 20, 2011
6 Minutes
J very reliably wakes up every morning between 5 and 6am. He rarely "sleeps in" until 6.30, so we generally have no need for an alarm clock. This week I've set one every day, just in case. On Wednesday morning, when J happened to wake up at 6.36am, I learned several, very valuable lessons, about the alarm on my phone, and the difference 6 minutes can make...
- The alarm on the iPhone will only go off if the phone is switched on. On Wednesday, mine was switched off.
- Murphy's Law dictates that the day my alarm isn't going to go off is the day my son decides to "sleep in."
- 6 minutes can be the difference between yummy, nutritious, stomach filling porridge and boring, low-everything weetbix for breakfast.
- 6 minutes means unwashed hair and a ponytail, no earrings and lunch from the cafeteria.
- Getting up 6 minutes later meant that I was calling for a cab later and not getting through because everyone else in the neighbourhood was calling for a cab at approximately 7.20am on Wednesday morning.
- Not getting a cab meant that my husband had to drive me to the bus stop. J's "sleep in" meant that he hadn't had time for breakfast so I sat in the back seat and fed him his cereal on the way.
- 6 minutes of extra sleep and no cab made me 10 minutes late to the bus stop. I missed my bus and just made it on to the next bus. The difference between the 7.55am bus and the 8.05 bus is about 50 more passengers and standing up for the entire journey.
- Leaving the bus stop 10 minutes later meant arriving at work 5 minutes late instead of 5 minutes early.
- I spent the entire day flat out trying to catch up. I made up some time throughout the day but I still missed my bus home by about 2 minutes. The next one was 20 minutes later.
- Getting home 20 minutes later meant launching into the late afternoon bounce on the bed that is now standard practice before we launch into dinner-bath-bed, instead of my afternoon cup of tea and chocolate biscuit.
This week I've spent roughly 100 minutes waiting for buses. I've eaten 5 tubs of yoghurt, 4 bananas, 5 cereal bars, and 10 carrot and apple muffins. I've spent $65 at the cafeteria, and $94 on Belgian chocolate milkshakes at Haagen Dazs in Tung Chung. I wore 5 different outfits but only 2 pairs of shoes. I've climbed countless stairs and only used the lift 7 times. I've sent my helper about a dozen texts to check on my son, and twice that many to my husband. I managed to be on time for work only 2 days out of 5 and I learned the difference 6 minutes can make to your whole day.
Today I got 2 extra hours of sleep, breakfast in bed and a whole 11 hours with my son, and I learned just how much I love the weekend.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Top Tip...Oh, Never Mind
Yes, I realise I'm Top Tipping on a Wednesday again, but I think the fact that I'm managing to post anything at all this week is an achievement beyond expectations. And now for the bad news, I don't actually have any real tips, it's more of a general ramble that you may or may not get something out of... If you read my last post you'll remember that I have started a new full-time job this week. It's been tough, tougher than I imagined and I am so exhausted that I'm struggling to put together coherent sentences at the moment. I woke up on Monday morning so nervous that I thought I might throw up, and since then there have been several moments where I was tempted to simply walk away and never look back. I hate leaving my little boy and I hate being so tired when I get home that I don't have the energy to play with him. My son has a birthday party to go to tomorrow and I didn't have time to buy a present for the birthday girl. He has a party at playgroup on Friday and I'm supposed to provide party food, but all I can manage is a plate of orange slices because I don't have time to go shopping, let alone the energy to bake for 15 fussy 2 year olds. An awful lot of things have had to give this week.
So far I like my job, but I'm not loving it yet. I might in time and I really hope I do, but until then the cost-benefit ratio is swaying in the wrong direction. I read an article recently about working mums and how they juggle everything. I really admire mums who work full-time, cook dinner, bake for school parties, buy beautiful presents for their friend's kids or their kid's friends, and still manage to find time for themselves and moonlight as the Toothfairy, but I know these women are few and far between, and if you look beneath the surface you will see that there is always something missing - I don't believe you can do it all, no matter how much you may want to. The article I read interviewed a few mums who had tried to balance work and kids but ultimately they hadn't enjoyed working nearly as much as they enjoyed watching their kids grow up. Hong Kong, as far as I know, is quite unique. It's really all or nothing when it comes to work. You either work 15 hours a day, 6 days a week, and you live for your job, or you're in HK and your husband's on such a great expat package that you don't need to work. I don't know many people who would call themselves wealthy, but at the same time I don't know any women that would say they don't have a choice and have to work because they need the money. I'm lucky that I've had a choice until now, but I've had to compromise and now I'm working for a new kitchen - there's always a catch whichever side of the fence you're on.
In the article I read, the mums who did work and loved it were dedicated career women who could afford to hire helpers and tutors and a whole army of people to raise their kids for them. Part-time work is rarely an option here, unless you work for yourself, but cheap labour is everywhere. Personally, I understand how important a career is to some people, even though I've never been one of them. And I know my son is going to start school in a few years, and he'll need me less and less, and one day I know I'll need to find something to fill in my days, just for me, other than being a mummy. But I struggle to understand why people have kids if they don't plan on playing a major role in their lives. When your child speaks fluent Tagalog and is more attached to the helper than to you, there's something wrong with the picture. I know I'm making a fairly broad generalisation here - I know a lot of mums who work long hours and are really involved and committed to their kids (and they bake). They're not the ones I'm talking about here.
So, my whole point tonight, my tip for the week, is for mums who might be thinking about going back to work, or those like me who are working but aren't convinced that it's for them. If you're going to do it, find something you love. You need something that you enjoy so much that it outweighs the 'mummy guilt.' In my whole 3 days as a working mummy I've also realised that organisation on the level of a small military operation is required. One of my anonymous commenters on my last post echoed many of the concerns I've had about leaving my little guy with someone other than me every day. I'm still not keen on the idea, partly because I am a control freak, but mostly because I miss him like crazy, and genuinely want to be with him myself. I've realised that the only way this new arrangement will work is if I'm comfortable with what's happening at home. My husband has been around a lot this week, and will continue to be. I am home for breakfast and dinner, and I have my son's days planned to the minute so there is never a moment where someone else has to decide what he'll be doing. I choose his clothes in the morning (including a back-up outfit) and I send and receive several text messages a day with updates on how it's all going. It might sound like I'm a little nutty but maintaining that level of control is what is keeping me sane this week. So, my final tip for this week is to find someone you trust, if you have to leave your kids with someone else while you go to work. And don't worry about seeming over-the-top or crazy - do whatever you have to do to make it work, if you really want it to work. If you don't, that's ok too.
So far I like my job, but I'm not loving it yet. I might in time and I really hope I do, but until then the cost-benefit ratio is swaying in the wrong direction. I read an article recently about working mums and how they juggle everything. I really admire mums who work full-time, cook dinner, bake for school parties, buy beautiful presents for their friend's kids or their kid's friends, and still manage to find time for themselves and moonlight as the Toothfairy, but I know these women are few and far between, and if you look beneath the surface you will see that there is always something missing - I don't believe you can do it all, no matter how much you may want to. The article I read interviewed a few mums who had tried to balance work and kids but ultimately they hadn't enjoyed working nearly as much as they enjoyed watching their kids grow up. Hong Kong, as far as I know, is quite unique. It's really all or nothing when it comes to work. You either work 15 hours a day, 6 days a week, and you live for your job, or you're in HK and your husband's on such a great expat package that you don't need to work. I don't know many people who would call themselves wealthy, but at the same time I don't know any women that would say they don't have a choice and have to work because they need the money. I'm lucky that I've had a choice until now, but I've had to compromise and now I'm working for a new kitchen - there's always a catch whichever side of the fence you're on.
In the article I read, the mums who did work and loved it were dedicated career women who could afford to hire helpers and tutors and a whole army of people to raise their kids for them. Part-time work is rarely an option here, unless you work for yourself, but cheap labour is everywhere. Personally, I understand how important a career is to some people, even though I've never been one of them. And I know my son is going to start school in a few years, and he'll need me less and less, and one day I know I'll need to find something to fill in my days, just for me, other than being a mummy. But I struggle to understand why people have kids if they don't plan on playing a major role in their lives. When your child speaks fluent Tagalog and is more attached to the helper than to you, there's something wrong with the picture. I know I'm making a fairly broad generalisation here - I know a lot of mums who work long hours and are really involved and committed to their kids (and they bake). They're not the ones I'm talking about here.
So, my whole point tonight, my tip for the week, is for mums who might be thinking about going back to work, or those like me who are working but aren't convinced that it's for them. If you're going to do it, find something you love. You need something that you enjoy so much that it outweighs the 'mummy guilt.' In my whole 3 days as a working mummy I've also realised that organisation on the level of a small military operation is required. One of my anonymous commenters on my last post echoed many of the concerns I've had about leaving my little guy with someone other than me every day. I'm still not keen on the idea, partly because I am a control freak, but mostly because I miss him like crazy, and genuinely want to be with him myself. I've realised that the only way this new arrangement will work is if I'm comfortable with what's happening at home. My husband has been around a lot this week, and will continue to be. I am home for breakfast and dinner, and I have my son's days planned to the minute so there is never a moment where someone else has to decide what he'll be doing. I choose his clothes in the morning (including a back-up outfit) and I send and receive several text messages a day with updates on how it's all going. It might sound like I'm a little nutty but maintaining that level of control is what is keeping me sane this week. So, my final tip for this week is to find someone you trust, if you have to leave your kids with someone else while you go to work. And don't worry about seeming over-the-top or crazy - do whatever you have to do to make it work, if you really want it to work. If you don't, that's ok too.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Mondayitis
Back in the dark ages when I was at school, the start of the new school year always coincided with my birthday at the end of January. Whether it fell on the last day of the holidays, or the first day of term, it always sucked. I counted my birthday as part of the holidays - Christmas, New Year, Summer, Birthday, so for me it always marked the end of something. Even though February, like August here, is the hottest month in Australia, going back to school meant summer was over, and it always made me sad. When I grew up and started working I relived that feeling every Sunday night. I'm going back to work tomorrow, although it seems strange to say "going back" because it's been so long since I really worked. Technically I'm starting again, a brand new job in a brand new school. It's the end of summer AND a Sunday night, and I have a serious case of the blues.
I haven't worked full-time since 2008 - a long time. I've been busy, you know, seeing the world, falling pregnant, having a baby and doting on him all day, every day. I was freaking out just a little at the prospect of going back to work, I really wasn't sure if I wanted to, let alone whether or not it was the right thing to do. I've been lucky that I haven't had to, really lucky I know, but a few unforeseen expenses later and now there's not much choice. I've been beside myself over the summer as I counted down the remaining days; juggling the feeling that I'm abandoning my little guy with the need to make sure we have money in the bank, always with the thought that this is a great job, that will be really good for my career, floating around in the back of my mind. I hate the thought of someone else spending the day with J, and I am especially worried about the impact my absence is going to have on him. I'm sure he's going to cope, he shouldn't miss me too much, but what worries me more is how he's going to change when our helper is in charge. Last week I stepped back a bit just to see how she would handle certain situations and my enthusiasm for going to work dwindled even further. It doesn't bode well. Working full-time and the inevitable exhaustion and mummy-guilt is also going to be detrimental for my poor, already neglected blog.
Apart from all that, and the gnawing-at-my-insides separation anxiety, this is a new job, in a school I've never worked in before. It's been a long time since I had to start again. When I was at school I only ever changed schools once, and that was because the school I went to for 11 years finished at year 10. So I went to school with basically the same group of kids for 11 years. I can't begin to tell you how terrified I was on the first day of year 11, and well, you can imagine how I coped with those early days at uni ("O Week", was more like "hell week"). This sheltered little life I led didn't exactly prepare me well for dealing with change. It may have been 15 years since I left school, a few years at uni and several jobs since graduation, but that fear of change, of the unknown, of the end of summer, is sitting like a rock in the pit of my stomach tonight. I was in a panic on Friday afternoon waiting for an email from the school telling me what time I would be starting tomorrow morning. I hated not knowing exactly when I had to be there, who I had to see and what exactly I would be doing.
Being the new kid is never easy. I may be standing at the front of the classroom these days but tomorrow I'll have more in common with the kids in their shiny new uniforms, nervously hoping I don't get lost, than with any of my colleagues. When you're new somewhere you want to make a good impression, but until you find your feet, until you've made a few friends and proven yourself, you're always going to be a little bit behind. I've already worked out what I'm going to wear, I've got my sensible shoes out, I've packed my bag with my snacks and supplies, and I've checked the bus timetable so I'll be on time (control freak maybe?). But I still don't know the kids I'll be working with, when I'll get to eat my meticulously packed lunch, and who I should sit next to in the staff-room. I've been in some pretty hostile staff-rooms in my time, and sometimes it's easier just to eat your lunch in your classroom, pretending you're really quite busy. It's just occurred to me I'll probably have to do playground "duty", a thought which, in this heat, scares me more than a hostile staff-room... The kids will always push their luck with new staff to see how much they can get away with. It's been such a long time since I've been bad-arse Mrs C that I'm not sure I remember how to show them that they can't get away with very much at all. I'm exhausted just thinking about it and I haven't even started yet!
So I'm going in at 8.15am tomorrow morning to face a lot of unknowns. It's more terrifying than exciting but I think it will be good for me, and if it's good for me, it'll be good for J (fingers crossed). One thing I do know for sure, is that I only have to get through 6 weeks of work (6 Sunday nights, 6 Mondays) before I get a week off, and the holidays are already on the calendar. And that reminds me why I became a teacher in the first place. Have a good week everyone.
I haven't worked full-time since 2008 - a long time. I've been busy, you know, seeing the world, falling pregnant, having a baby and doting on him all day, every day. I was freaking out just a little at the prospect of going back to work, I really wasn't sure if I wanted to, let alone whether or not it was the right thing to do. I've been lucky that I haven't had to, really lucky I know, but a few unforeseen expenses later and now there's not much choice. I've been beside myself over the summer as I counted down the remaining days; juggling the feeling that I'm abandoning my little guy with the need to make sure we have money in the bank, always with the thought that this is a great job, that will be really good for my career, floating around in the back of my mind. I hate the thought of someone else spending the day with J, and I am especially worried about the impact my absence is going to have on him. I'm sure he's going to cope, he shouldn't miss me too much, but what worries me more is how he's going to change when our helper is in charge. Last week I stepped back a bit just to see how she would handle certain situations and my enthusiasm for going to work dwindled even further. It doesn't bode well. Working full-time and the inevitable exhaustion and mummy-guilt is also going to be detrimental for my poor, already neglected blog.
Apart from all that, and the gnawing-at-my-insides separation anxiety, this is a new job, in a school I've never worked in before. It's been a long time since I had to start again. When I was at school I only ever changed schools once, and that was because the school I went to for 11 years finished at year 10. So I went to school with basically the same group of kids for 11 years. I can't begin to tell you how terrified I was on the first day of year 11, and well, you can imagine how I coped with those early days at uni ("O Week", was more like "hell week"). This sheltered little life I led didn't exactly prepare me well for dealing with change. It may have been 15 years since I left school, a few years at uni and several jobs since graduation, but that fear of change, of the unknown, of the end of summer, is sitting like a rock in the pit of my stomach tonight. I was in a panic on Friday afternoon waiting for an email from the school telling me what time I would be starting tomorrow morning. I hated not knowing exactly when I had to be there, who I had to see and what exactly I would be doing.
Being the new kid is never easy. I may be standing at the front of the classroom these days but tomorrow I'll have more in common with the kids in their shiny new uniforms, nervously hoping I don't get lost, than with any of my colleagues. When you're new somewhere you want to make a good impression, but until you find your feet, until you've made a few friends and proven yourself, you're always going to be a little bit behind. I've already worked out what I'm going to wear, I've got my sensible shoes out, I've packed my bag with my snacks and supplies, and I've checked the bus timetable so I'll be on time (control freak maybe?). But I still don't know the kids I'll be working with, when I'll get to eat my meticulously packed lunch, and who I should sit next to in the staff-room. I've been in some pretty hostile staff-rooms in my time, and sometimes it's easier just to eat your lunch in your classroom, pretending you're really quite busy. It's just occurred to me I'll probably have to do playground "duty", a thought which, in this heat, scares me more than a hostile staff-room... The kids will always push their luck with new staff to see how much they can get away with. It's been such a long time since I've been bad-arse Mrs C that I'm not sure I remember how to show them that they can't get away with very much at all. I'm exhausted just thinking about it and I haven't even started yet!
So I'm going in at 8.15am tomorrow morning to face a lot of unknowns. It's more terrifying than exciting but I think it will be good for me, and if it's good for me, it'll be good for J (fingers crossed). One thing I do know for sure, is that I only have to get through 6 weeks of work (6 Sunday nights, 6 Mondays) before I get a week off, and the holidays are already on the calendar. And that reminds me why I became a teacher in the first place. Have a good week everyone.
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