London calling
NS November 19th, 2007
I woke up this morning knowing I had the day to myself (mum-in-law has TNC today) but didn’t want to spend it how I usually do — a bit of cleaning, a bit of household shopping, a trip to the coffee shop for a latte and the papers and then working on some writing. It’s grey and rainy and miserable out and it was tempting to consign myself to the house all day, curled up in bed, but my feet were feeling itchy for pastures new and I decided that I would go into London for some shopping. I texted a former coworker who I try to meet up with every couple months and asked if she was free for lunch. She was and I suggested a pizza place around the corner from the office where I used to work with her.
I got to Oxford Street just before noon and did a bit of Christmas shopping. In the process I spotted some items for myself that were just too good to pass up and ended up buying a skirt, tights, gloves, hat, jumper (sweater) and black combat boots. Items for me: six. Christmas gifts bought: four. Not too bad. It would’ve been better if the gift to treat ratio was a bit higher but hey, it’s only November. Any purchases for myself bought before December 1 don’t count, right?
After lunch (a four seasons pizza – yum!) with my fabulous friend, I wandered around Selfridges, buying a couple more gifts and contemplated an impromptu manicure (which I decided against). Just being amongst so many people in central London was a novelty for me. The crowds I used to abhor, I felt happy to be a part of. The rushed frenzy I used to feel as I stormed in and out of the Tube station was replaced with a leisurely stroll up and down the escalators, in no hurry to catch a particular train. I looked at well dressed women queuing to pay for their sandwiches, talking business on their mobiles and browsing racks of designer clothes in their lunch hour and for a little while, felt a pang of sadness that I was no longer one of them. I felt a bit invisible and pathetic, a lonely housewife and mum out on a day pass in the big city to buy warm woolen sensible things for her and her family. Maybe that’s what drew me towards the combat boots — a desire to feel young and carefree and tough again.
Before boarding the train home, I stopped for a coffee and flipped through the paper. I tried to concentrate on what was happening in the world but my thoughts drifted back to the yearning I’d felt in the department store to be that person again, a strong desire to rejoin the 9-5 masses. A day without a toddler pulling me, prodding me, testing me. A day without five bouts of washing up or changing nappies or wiping crumbs. A day of lunch breaks and coffee breaks and just…a break. I’m feeling the mummy burnout, big time. I no longer feel the energy, enthusiasm and patience needed to care for a child 24/7 and feel myself more and more drawn to concerns outside of childrearing.
But then I think of actually doing it, going back to the office grind every day and leaving my daughter in someone else’s care and dealing with a whole new set of challenges that come with being a mother working outside the home. And besides that, would anyone have me? Would I burn out just as quickly there and regret my decision? Do I owe it to myself to give it a try or do I owe it to my daughter to just try harder where I am right now? Would it even make financial sense, i.e. would I even earn more than the childcare would cost? Is it insanity to even be thinking this? I’m feeling a combination of selfishness and eagerness at the thought of going back to work. Could I really do it?
Alas, by the time the boots have been broken in my fleeting desires will most likely be put back on the shelf to collect dust with the rest of the things I’d like to do but can’t. The grass is always greener on the other side, I know that. Tomorrow I’ll look at TNC’s smiling face and know it’s all worth it. But today that green grass is mighty tempting.
- Career , Londonista , Parenting 101
- Comments(4)
I have soooooo been where you are right now! I think you need to find a way to get a break more often, and then I think you’ll be able to see the issue with more clarity. It’s tempting to think that going back to work would be the change you need, but maybe all you need is a bit more help with the mommy stuff? I guess what I’m saying is try to alleviate the burnout first and then you’ll be able to see if returning to work is what you really want and need.
Oh God, do I know about that green grass. I am actually jealous of my husband’s job, not because I want to do it, but because I would love the luxury of ten hours in the working world, being proactive, making decisions and not sweeping, wiping or arranging my domestic sphere. He probably thinks he’d like my job, at home with three delightful children.
I can relate to the mommy burn-out too. It helps me to have a part of my life that is my own – some freelance work – but this also adds to the ever-growing list of things that I have to achieve.
Now where’s Yogamum’s rehab for tired parents when we need it?
Thanks Yogamum and Charlotte, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who has gone through this. The burnout seems to have really set it just since we moved to a new town which also coincided with the weather turning colder and wetter. A combination of the two means we’re stuck inside more often which makes us both crabby. I’ve got to come up with more ideas for indoor activities and outings…
I am not in the toddler zone but do understand the way you feel about your job. Despite the MD telling his junior managers I was “the only person in this company with what I want from a manager” I got canned the next day (I can’t complain there is no humour in my life now, can I?).
I mourned for my job, pined for it like a lost lover. I mourned using the pointy intelligent part of my brain. I mourned working with, for and mentoring people. I mourned the feeling that I might be of some use and doing some good. I mourned being treated like an equal by people who were waaaay smarter than me. I mourned the fact that the company had changed the whole set up so I could never go back or do that role ever again and since it was the only company which had accepted me so far, I knew it was safe to assume I was unlikely to have another shot at a proper career anywhere else. I was seethingly jealous of my friends who were still marketing managers and lawyers and doctors when suddenly I was no one.
So the important things to remember are…
1. However temptingly green the grass may be work would never be the same again for you now.
2. Have you thought about working part time? I worked part time just long enough to realise I don’t want to work for other people any more, at all! It was very cathartic!
Now I know I want to be a successful writer and artist and a mother – I’m kind of guessing you may be similar.
3. However different you feel, you are still the same person who did the high powered job, you are still that smart ,that sassy, that capable and nothing has changed except your answer to the question “what do you do for a living?” and perhaps, your or other people’s attitude to who you are as a result of your answer to that question. I used to tell people what I did and I could see them thinking “blimey she’s smart” now I see them thinking “blimey what a waster”.
Do you have a local nursery you could put TNC into for a couple of mornings a week or do you know other Mums who would be prepared to club together and say… one of you baby sit for a day once a week so the others could get out and do stuff. Or do you have the kind of in-laws who could have her to stay for a night so you could have some time out? Also are you a member of any mum and baby clubs where you can talk to people in the same boat to help you feel less cabin crazy? You probably do all this stuff already but I thought I’d ask.
Feeling for you – I hope you manage to sort something out.
Cheers
BC