Besties...

There’s something about old friends.  Something safe and warm and incredibly comfortable.  They’re like my tracky daks after a day of corporate wear.  Do I need to explain?  Didn’t think so.

I have a lot of friends.  And I love making new friends, meeting new people and seeing things from different perspectives.  Through my children I have met and made groups of friends I would probably have never met B.K. (Before Kids).  Sometimes it doesn’t work, but other times, it does, and it’s great.  So my point is that I have a lot of friends and I know that through my life, I’ll make even more friends.

But nothing comes close to my old friends.  The friends who were there before kids. Before my husband. Before I had a job. Before my Mum and I started getting along.  They know things about me that I don’t even know.  They remember things I don’t remember.  They’ve been with me through bad hair, bad skin, bad clothes, bad boys and bad, bad make-up.  And they still love me.  And I, them.

xx

The honeymoon is over.

I think it’s time.  The honeymoon is over.  My love affair of being a Stay at Home Mum is starting to wane.

For almost two years I have been in bliss, living the dream I never knew I wanted.  Looking after my two little munchkins and making sure the house runs smoothly.  For almost two years I fed and bathed these two in time for my hubby to arrive home from work.  Dinner would be minutes away from being on the table and I would marvel at how quickly my life had become a 1950s sitcom (sans the canned laughter).  For almost two years I did not think about work.

But recently the seed was planted, and maybe this was the reason, or it was just a natural occurrence, but my patience has been wafer thin.  I have been on. the. edge.

Suddenly, I can’t wait to get back to work and find my identity again.  I know, I know. I shouldn’t define myself by my job, but I can’t help it.  For most of my professional life, I defined myself in this way.  It has been a lovely break, being a Stay at Home Mum.  I have loved it.  But I feel all of us growing out of this stage of our lives.  My eldest is off to school next year and my youngest will be entering the child care system.

We will still have a majority of the week together, as I will only be working part-time.  But for now at least, the honeymoon is over.

The Black Cloak

Winston Churchill was definitely onto something by referring to his depression as the black dog.  For me, a “black cloak” is probably more befitting.  It’s definitely black, this heavy cloak that I wear.  When I’m wearing this cloak, nothing seems to be able to shift it.

My husband tries to remove it for me, but I pull it closer around me, as if to protect myself from feeling better.  Sometimes I feel comfortable in it.  Lost in it.  Almost as though I’m home.  Which is madness, right?  How could anybody feel comfortable feeling nothing…

And yet…

Saying it out loud

“I’ve got news!” my friend said, when I arrived for a playdate today.  Instantly, I thought’she’s pregnant’, but I was wrong.  ”I’m going back to work full-time! and it’s paying ${insert an amount you think is good}”!  My reaction to this news is what I have found interesting, and quite exciting, and to be honest, a little bit frightening.

I thought that I would get envious when friends told me they were pregnant with their third baby.  But when that did occur, I felt nothing.  Well, I’ll be honest.  I felt sorry for them, but that’s another blog for another day.  I expected to feel a touch of envy, a twinge of regret (we have decided to stop at two children) and possibly a feeling of melancholy.  But no! It wasn’t to be!  The announcement causing me to feel all of the above, was indeed, the announcement of a full-time job with a decent pay packet accompanying it.  I am so happy for my friend, and I am extremely proud of her.  I long to feel the satisfaction of a job well done, being good at that job, and being paid accordingly.

I’ve been home with my two kids for almost two years.  Recently, we had decided that I would stay home another  year and return to work when DD is six and DS is three.  When we decided this, I heard a faint whisper in my soul saying “what are you doing? you want to go back to work” but I couldn’t vocalise it.  Wouldn’t vocalise it.  Until today.  Until my friend announced her new role.  Then it all came tumbling out.  In an instant, I felt excited, elated, scared, worried.

Excited because it means a new beginning, and elated because I look forward to finding a niche somewhere.  Scared, because I don’t know what I want to do, and worried because I may fail.

But I have to remain positive.  I have to believe that I am capable of achieving whatever it is I seek.  What do I seek?  The answer used to be fuzzy, and unclear.  But as the year progresses, it’s getting clearer and clearer.