Busy body

Things are beginning to heat up at work so I'm having to rediscover my focus, boo hoo me.

It's been a while since I've had to give a damn, I kind of left my work ethic at the door after Christmas when I had the luxury of a couple of weeks off. Time away from the office made me re-evaluate my priorities and realise how much I wanted to be a stay at home mum.

So now, after 10 weeks of slacking off, I'm beginning to feel tinglings of conscientiousness [or maybe it's guilt?].

Either way I think it's brought on, in part, by the frightening awareness my whole team are about to bugger off on holiday for a couple of weeks, leaving me to lead the whole account with the aid of some temporary support [read: people who won't have a clue what to do and will need everything spelling out].

Which sucks. But at the same time it's good for my 'profile'. God I can't even type the word, that's how much I shy away from office politics!

Oh yeah, and then there's my body.

I've decided my body and I are no longer friends. My weight keeps creeping up even though I've been consciously choosing to eat much better food. Even Peanut asked the other day if there was a 'baby in your tummy?' I told her no, it was just full.

And then, to add insult to injury, Aunt Flo is driving me crazy with her continual visits. Just when you think she's gone, she comes back and pops her head round the door for one extra burst of hello. I have no idea what's going on with her. Suffice to say I am really confused about my cycle, my fertility and everything to do with my chances of conception!

I could be pregnant and her outbursts are being caused by a baby snuggling down inside me; I might be miscarrying and not know it; or I might be neither of the above and simply clueless about my dates this month! Thanks Aunt Flo. Do you think if I hang a 'you're not welcome' sign on my nice new front door she'll read it and take heed?

Must go write my very long list of things to do for tomorrow. Talk to you later.

Blue Wednesday

Hey.

Today has been very flat, and not at all full of good cheer.

At my office, one person I know was made redundant yesterday, four more were chopped today, and another six are due to go tomorrow. As you can imagine the atmosphere is very solemn; in fact it's like working at a wake.

To top that, the two new jobs husband has been going after look to be leading nowhere. One he has written off himself, and the other, which he quite fancied, well they just don't seem to know what criteria they want to recruit!

Which means he's not feeling too chirpy, and on top of that he's been on a course for the past two days and has had to sit in traffic for HOURS. He hates sitting in traffic.

Plus, Peanut is tired and irritable after a late-ish night on Saturday, and busy days on Sunday and Monday!

Woohoo! Hey, at least we're all ok physically. No winter colds or vomiting bugs [Latte Mommy, Oh Mommy].

Roll on the weekend.

Wicked mother

For a while there I thought Peanut had reverted back to sleeping through to her routine wake up time of 6:45. I happily assumed all our early rising issues had sorted themselves out. Oh no. Yesterday she made a grand entrance at 6 and this morning, earlier still at 5:40.

Nothing wrong with that, in the sense that if she wants to start her day with the birds then who am I to tell her different. Except that's not how it works.

Last night she was exhausted, slept badly and this morning was a royal pain in the bum [moody, cheeky, whiney, miserable, ignoring everything I asked her to do]. I know she's only behaving like this because she's tired [and being day 4 of our working week we probably both are]. I also know, as the grown up, I should know better than to get snappy at her in return.

Unfortunately not. She was driving me crazy because I knew her mood was self inflicted. I knew if she'd stayed in bed for another hour, neither of us would be going through this crabby start to our day. My own frustration and stress at getting us out of the house on time meant I started to bark orders at her. To get dressed, and chastising her for anything else she did which was out of line. Which then left me drowning in working mum guilt:

If I didn't work and put her in nursery for 10 hours each day she wouldn't be so tired in the first place. [And if she wasn't so damn tired maybe she would sleep better, and the circle goes round].

If I didn't work I wouldn't have to berate her to get dressed as we wouldn't be under such pressure to leave the house.

If I didn't work I wouldn't being trying to get myself ready quite as much and would be able to focus on what she needed.

If I didn't work none of this morning's crabbiness would have happened.

Does this make me a wicked mother, or does this make both of us victims of modern day circumstance?

Q and A

Using it as a small opportunity to escape the drudgery of my working day I decided to go for a small walk at lunch today, something I haven’t done by myself in I don’t know how long.

My office is only a street away from where Heath Ledger was filming The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus a few days before he died, so I decided to go for a wander in that direction. Not to see anything, merely to soak in the buildings he’d been looking at himself earlier this month and by going, in some small way, I felt I was showing him my respect. Silly I know.

Anyway, on my walk back I bought a copy of Heat [for those not from the UK, a tabloid celebrity/entertainment magazine], the first one I’ve bought since probably last summer when I cut magazines out of my new budget. The very last page of Heat is always a Q&A interview with a celebrity, for kicks I figured I’d answer the same questions myself here tonight. Here goes:

Where did you wake up this morning?
In bed with my husband, with the cat sleeping at my feet. Our alarm went off at 5:25am, which is just wrong.

If you were invisible for a day, what would be the first thing you’d do?
Rob a bank.

What’s been the most embarrassing moment of your life?
Driving at speed through a car park height restriction barrier, forgetting my husband's pride and joy road bike was attached to the roof. Embarrassing, funny in retrospect and very very devastating for my husband.

Ever been chatted up by another celebrity?
As I’m not a celebrity, sadly no.

Who did you last receive a text from and what did it say?
A girl I work closely with, to thank me for staying back to talk to her about her plans to resign soon.

What was the last lie you told?
That I’m not thinking of having another baby yet [to a colleague].

When was the last time you cried?
Last Wednesday after I’d called in sick to work. I was so stressed about being in pain, and work having caused my pain, that after I’d told them I broke down for a couple of minutes.

When were you last naked in front of another person?
Last night in front of my husband.

Apart from your home and car, what is the most expensive thing you have ever bought?
I can’t say my wedding dress because my parents paid for that. So I would have to say the little black Gucci dress I bought from Harrods the year before I met my husband. It cost £800.

What do you most dislike about yourself?
My belly.

An apology

To my husband. For being grumpy, melancholy, insular, quiet, demanding, easily displeased, nit-picky, over-emotional, un-emotional, disinterested, self-absorbed. For being all those things over the last few days, I’m sorry.

Sometimes it’s hard to hide how I feel, hard to brush over it and be chipper. Sometimes I don’t want to brush over it. Sometimes I want to wallow in it and for you to notice my wallowing and do something fabulous to make me feel better. If left to my own devices I’ll continue to wallow, refusing to get back on the saddle and carry on.

I know I set my baby-making expectations too high and I want the perfect future now. I know I hate going to work because I want to be home with Peanut. I know I hate going to work even more because it’s causing actual physical pain. I know none of this is your fault and none of it you can fix either. Just let me wallow sometimes. Other times, just make me a cup of tea and give me a hug. Knowing you’re not frowning at me, that you’re on the rollercoaster with me, will be enough to make it all slip slide away.

I love you.

p.s. big HUGE congratulations on your team kicking ass the other night. Dinner and beer will be served this evening, I’ll even be washed with brand new hair just to dazzle you.

Doctor, doctor

I just got a 5-point prescription from my doctor:

rest
heat
painkillers
anti-inflammatories
no more heavy lifting

Looks like work will have to find a stronger victim to be their product fairy from now on!

Ouch!

I’ve hurt my back. Nothing dramatic, not a slipped disc or anything, but a continual dull ache in the lower and middle areas, sometimes accompanied by a sharp tingle down the left side. Enough for me take the day off today. And tomorrow. And probably Friday too.

I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow morning; no doubt he’ll just tell me to rest and usher me out of his room. I don’t particularly want him to prescribe painkillers as I think I can manage without them until it recovers all by itself. I would just like reassurance I’m not inflicting long-term damage and for him to support the notion I need to change my work responsibilities to alleviate the cause.

See, that’s my problem. I think it’s my job that’s causing my pain. I commission photography for a niche consumer magazine and the product we promote is heavy. As part of organising our shoots I have to make sure we have the products available we wish to promote. If the product isn’t being delivered into my office, it’s being unpacked, moved, checked off a spreadsheet and then shipped out again to a shoot location. Sounds simple enough but when 1 average box weighs 16lbs/7.2kg and yesterday alone I unpacked at least 20 boxes, it means I shifted 336lbs/24 stone/152 kilos of the stuff yesterday alone!

I admit, we’re very busy right now so there’s way more to deal with than is normal but this summer will see me reach my 3rd year in the job and I think it’s finally taking its toll. The ridiculous thing is my employer pays me far too high a salary to be dealing with this rubbish, it’s just that no one else is silly enough to take on the responsibility. Believe me, I’ve been trying to handover the reins to a colleague [any colleague] for the past year but no-one wants to know! And as they’re my shoots, and I need the products in the right place at the right time, the buck stops with me.

Which is why I need to go see my doctor tomorrow. Even if I think I can physically get by without him I need him to help me build my case with work. Maybe he will sign me off sick and I can have an extended period at home? Maybe he’ll tell me I can’t do my job anymore and my employer has to pay me off? Fat chance but I do like to daydream.

Rush hour

It’s only Tuesday but it feels like all I’ve done this week is rush. First thing in the morning I rush to get ready and get out on time. Then it’s a rush to the nursery. Rush to the station. Rush to the office, only to be greeted by nonsense requests from all angles. Fight one fire after another. Not have enough time to do everything that needs to get done. Feel I need to work faster, to get more done in less time, to do more, now, yesterday. Rush out of the office again to make it to the nursery before closing. Rush to the station, onto the train and rush [as fast as my little legs will carry me] to the nursery. Rush home. Keep a tired and hungry Peanut happy. Read to her. Sit with her until she sleeps. Eat. Post. Crash. And then all again tomorrow…are you sure I can’t retire yet?

What goes around comes around

Where I sit at work has a direct view into the glass-walled CEO’s office, and today I witnessed a guy being sacked and escorted from the premises through those very glass walls.

It was exciting to watch, yet also unnerving. If you work somewhere for long enough your colleagues become good friends and the respect you have for being paid to perform a job slowly ebbs away.

Watching the drama unfold today raised my fear of not pleasing people: I would hate to be publicly humiliated like that, I would also hate to do something so wrong it caused me to be perceived a failure.

Silly, silly boy. As my grandmother used to say ‘be sure your sins will find you out'.

Based on my own experiences last year, they sure will, but I’ll save that story for another day.

Thank goodness it's Friday...?

I 'work from home' on Fridays, and Peanut stays home too. It save us one day of nursery fees each week; every little helps with resolution number 6!

On an ordinary Friday I stick close to the laptop in the morning in case issues arise and then, as it gets towards mid afternoon, I begin to feel better about heading out of the house [confident I’m not as indispensable as I imagine and it’s safe to venture out without being missed].

Unfortunately Peanut remained under the weather today so we didn’t get out. At all. We didn’t even venture out of the lounge all that much. To say I had cabin fever by the time my husband came home from work just wouldn’t be going far enough!

Peanut was my shadow all day, wanting cuddles and to sit on my knee every five minutes. Which in some ways is gorgeous but in other ways is quite draining as you just don’t get to move or take care of anything else you need to.

Anyway, out of the blue, Peanut made a 300% recovery at about 5pm so I’m not sure if she’s playing me for a fool in retaliation for putting her back in nursery? Let’s see what tomorrow brings…

Emergency call out

Got a call from Peanut's nursery at 3:30 this afternoon asking me to collect her early as she wasn't well: apparently a tummy bug has been going around and it's only day two of term. Yay!

I quickly shut down my computer and headed straight out of the office, thankfully not too crazy busy yet for it to matter. Or at least, not that bothered yet to care.

She fell asleep in the car home and was quite tearful and upset for most of the evening. Big improvement after she'd had some toast and watched Elf for the six-zillionth time though!

Anyhow, Peanut's now asleep and husband is playing Wii Sports so he's happy too. All is good, though I need a cup of tea and a hit of sugar. I wonder if it’s snowing outside…

Dullsville

Second day at work after a long break. What more can I say?

This marketing lark is rubbish really yet everyone behaves like its life or death. Who really cares whether we mail in a biodegradable polywrap or paper outer? I’m sure the person who receives our ‘junk’ doesn’t give two hoots.

I miss Peanut; I miss being at home and taking care of her and taking care of our life. Here all I get to do is take care of other peoples ‘stuff’, none of which is greatly important in the grand scheme of things.

Oh how I wish I could quit my job. Not because I hate it, don’t get me wrong, I’m quite good at what I do and respected for doing it well. Just that if I had my way I’d not have to do it at all.

If only I hadn’t bought all that designer crap in my 20s maybe I would be able to afford to. Talk about shooting myself in the foot.

I’m sure this time next week I’ll be back in the swing of things and getting on with it. Right now I’m yearning for my resolutions/wishes to come true.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go

Whoopdedoo, today is my first day at work for 18 whole days and I just know it’s going to be horrid.

It's all my own undoing though: my employer closed for Christmas/New Year and I booked off the preceding week, giving Peanut and I the longest stretch of time together since I was on maternity leave over 3 years ago.

Ordinarily our daily grind goes something like this, just as it will this morning:

5:30 husband and I crawl out of bed though we’re usually too comatose for proper conversation at this hour.
6:15 husband leaves for work.
6:45 wake up Peanut.
6:45-7:45 convince Peanut she really does want to eat breakfast/get dressed so we’re not late, interspersed with making myself look halfway decent.
8:00 drive to nursery [we should really leave at 7:50 but we’re usually running a bit late].
8:15 drop Peanut at nursery to start her 10-hour stint.
8:30 wait for the silly tube train to take me into central London - this method of transport has a nasty habit of sucking 15 minutes out of my day, making me later than my childcare run already does.
9:30 arrive at work, usually half an hour after my official start time, hoping after 2 and a half years of the same tardiness I’ll continue to get away with it.

If I’m picking up Peanut, which I do at least two out of four days, I leave the office by 17:00. More often than not I’m running to the station in order to make it to the nursery by closing at 18:00. Peanut is usually one of the last to be collected: first in, last out. Sometimes it breaks my heart.

Contractually I should finish at 17:30 so all in all I don’t really deliver on my hours; I like to think I make it up by working late into the evening on days when I don’t have to rush off though. On those days I don’t make it home before Peanut’s bedtime so I never quite manage to make everyone happy, including myself.

Who was it that said you could have it all? As if I want it all anyway, I’d settle for just the bit I want right now.