only time will tell….

I am a couple of evenings away from launching into a whole different pace of life. Returning to full-time work and relying on other people to look after my children before and after school and all the planning and logistics that entails.

Plus, I am going to ride a motorbike five days a week after a long period of absence from riding. 

With all this change (don’t get me wrong I normally thrive on change) I am wound up so tight I’m gonna do whatever tight things do when they have had enough.

I keep convincing myself this is a good move….our bank account will certainly be happier. But I can’t help feeling a sense of loss. 

But, if the Easter holidays are anything to go by where my role as a parent varied from fish wife to umpire, I will be going to work for a break.

Time will tell..

This blog is for UNICEF.

Thanks for reading. 

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There’s no such thing as a light motorbike…

I have a motorbike. I got my licence after I had baby boy but can count the number of times I have actually ridden one on my hands, so to say I am a little rusty is an understatement.

From next week, when I start my new job, I will be riding a 40 mile round trip on a daily basis, so I have to get good and quick.

The problem is I gulp at the mere suggestion of getting on the bike but I have this feeling (which happens regardless of the challenge) that whenever I am faced with something that makes me gulp I have to do it and conquer it.

So, the easy option would have been to let my husband ride the bike back home after we bought it as it was a longish trip. But I knew I had to get to grips with biking fast so I dusted off my helmet and climbed on board.

I am solo glad I did because once I got through all the coastal traffic and got some open road the feeling was heaven. At speed the bike becomes as light as a feather and willing to do whatever you ask of it. However, when stationary it is this massive lump of metal that won’t budge when I am pushing it backwards to park with my legs. As for putting it in the centre stand…..well that is the most infuriating thing as I watch my husband ‘just’ shove his foot on the stand and lift the bike back ‘just put all your weight on the stand’. I did and nothing happened, except a few popped muscles down my rib cage and up my arms trying to wrestle it backwards. “It’s no good if you need to fill up with fuel” my husband says, “you need to put it in the centre stand” grrrrrrrr.

Think I will sit astride it to fill up instead….

This blog is for UNICEF. Thanks for reading. 

Made-up over business as usual

Missed another blog post last night…was out drinking with the girls (well one small glass of red followed by copious amounts of tap water as I was driving plus red wine seems to dry me out the minute it passes my lips). One of our party had already consumed ome alcohol before she arrived so she wa considerably merrier than we have ever seen her before (normally quite reserved in the school playground…amazing what she had in her once the drink was flowing – i was so impressed by her strong views on school manageent I suggested she should run for Governor – no seriously she was good). I used to find (and still do) that desoite the dryin effects, I am far more articulate after a glass. You would think it would be the reverse but actually it helps to remove some of the filtery, thinking process that you normally go through so you just come out and tell it how it is. Maybe Paxman would get even better results if he spiked the dressing room drinks of politicians before a broadcast?

I now owe nearly £50 to Unicef in missed blog posts (the fundraising element of this blog) but I am sorry to say I spent that in The Body Shop on make-up in anticipation of my new job. I dont normally wear make-up but recently a few people have commented on how tired I look even when I am not tired – so basically my face is now old and tired. NOT a good look for starting a new job. So while I did baulk considerably at handing over a card to pay for beauty polyfilla, I considered it to be more of a long-term investment – even if I am tired on the inside the outside will declare ‘business as usual’.

This blog is for Unicef.

Thanks for reading.

Yes to lost minutes

Saying ‘yes’ is catching up with me. Sometimes, if you write something down in a list it helps you to see that actually there isn’t that much to sort out, so here goes…

– do parish council minutes, email all partners re web links, start post box listing application, start handover document, do tweet schedule before leave, supervise daughter’s first tutor session, get children used to childminder through booking in time with her, get the working party for playground off the ground (Scuse the pun), go to first meet with new team, do medical questionnaire, get road closure for school fair booked, contact parish council re: using green for said fair, find out how much was raised through textile recycling at school, get November dinner and dance bash booked, set-up childcare voucher scheme, put for sale signs in husbands truck (to sell-off as no longer needs it and we need more cash), get Sailing sessions booked in over Easter, sort out childminders sessions walking the dogs……I’m sure there was something else…oh yes, train for the swimathon.

Everyone has lists like these as long as their arms(s) so no wonder we are all running around like headless chickens with our heads either stuck in a computer or behind a steering wheel. While saying yes has opened up so many experiences and opportunities, there are times when just the experience of taking stock will suffice.

My baby boy said to me earlier, “Mummy why don’t you stand still”. I am always saying to him “just a minute” when those minutes are all I, and anyone else for that matter, has got..

This blog is for UNICEF.

Thanks for reading.

Plane mad for a lunchbag

I have just spent 30 minutes (or it seemed like that anyway) deliberating over which ‘Disney Planes’ lunch bag to get my son on Amazon. You would think it wouldn’t take more than 5 minutes….why do you need to read umpteen reviews on a bag’s ability to store a child’s lunch?- but you can’t help but get drawn in. Then there is the design, colours, size, capacity, durability (sad isn’t it). Then when you finally go for it and select the seller who is offering free postage, you find at checkout it adds another £3 for packing. By which point you have given up the will to live and press ‘complete order’ anyway.

The saga didn’t start on the Internet. No, this quest for the lunchbox began earlier today when I specifically drove to a supermarket because I had seen another branch selling them only to be told in this particular branch “they won’t be in stock til after Easter”. So I drive back through our local town and try no less than three shops, all of which don’t sell insulated lunch bags, let alone Planes ones. Then that was it, I was on a mission. I had said to baby boy he could have a Planes lunchbag, so he was going to get one……

I think I need to start work (or maybe it’s the guilt of starting full-time work that is making me become insanely focused on anything concerning the children) – yes I think that’s it.

This blog is for UNICEF.

Thanks for reading. 

Getting on with it

I was up until nearly 1am last night applying for the opportunity to train as a social worker and fulfil an ambition that I have held now for a number of years but have not been in a financial position to take the plunge. Hence my lack of blog post last night so another £1 in the pot to Unicef.

The training is part of the Step Up to Social Work programme funded by Central Governmet. In addition to funding the course, funding is also provided to cover living costs, which is a relief as it means I wont havetoworry about chidcare.It is a full-time course over 14 months, so intensive an , for me, exciting. However, I have just secured a fixed tem contract in my current career, whichwill begreat for th time being but I know it is a means to an end, which is a relief. That is, of course, that my application is accepted and that I pass the assessment tests.

Some members of my fammily dont believe I am cut ot for it. In many ways this makes me more determined, but I will leave it to the professionals to decide whether I would be any good at it or not. For now it lies as desire within me to make a difference to the most vulnerable children in our society.

My husband is exhausted from his current job and the commuting he is doing so isnt in the right frame of mind to discuss anything. I broached the subject of moving our daughter to another school if her learning continued to deterioriate and he completey brick-walled the idea for no sensible reason other than he was narked that I had looked into the options without consulting with him first. I figured he was too busy and to get involved in research on education so I did the initial work myself. Aparently that was the worn thing to do.

So exhausted from an argument, I cried and cried,, wondering what I had to do to make life a little easier for him so that he wouldnt be so tense every night so that I was not abe to raise any issue of concern for fear of arguments.

Then I got the email that the social work training programme was now accepting applications. So I was glad to put down the pillow I was burying my head in and just got on with it.

Thats the only way to live life.

This blog is for Unicef.

Thanks for reading.

Working for spare change

Oh the guilt! Just went for another job interview. Although I hope we get it because we need the money it will mean baby boy going into full-time childcare 8.30 til 5. He has been in a childcare setting of one form or another since he was 9 months old but I have always managed to keep it to no more than 3 days per week. My only saving grace, if I get the job, is that he is now 3 and a bit years old so able to enjoy more of the typical activities on offer at nurseries.

As I browse through potentials though, I start to recall excerpts from a childcare documentary and the grieving family whose daughter suffocated to death in a Wendy house at a nursery. So any websites showing pictures of Wendy houses, particularly those with an upstairs (because the little girl suffocated on the window-ledge/step of the upper storey) made me wobble. 

You cannot put a price on a setting where you know your child will have a good and safe experience while you are working. But when this cost eats significantly into your earnings you wonder why you do it in the first place.

Then there is the issue of the dogs, we can’t bear to part with them so that will be £200 per month so they get a decent walk everyday. 

With any luck I will have some spare change at the end of the month to pay for parking at work..

This blog is for UNICEF.

Thanks for reading.