Sunday, 25 January 2015

Week 172- settling in, using your brain and smelling your children...

I am going back to work in one week.

Seven days.

I have approximately 168 hours to get the old grey matter fired up again.

For the last 10 months I have been living moment-by-moment.

Working out how you live day-to-day in the world with a toddler and a baby. How it is humanly possible to feed and clothe them both and still find the time to brush your own teeth and cram in the occasional round of Marmite on toast.

These have been months of looking inwards. Of focusing on my family. Of changing nappies, wiping tears, rubbing bumps and carrying children on a cocked hip. 

Now going to have to shift that focus.

Look out to the world again.

And speak to adults.

And I am excited and utterly petrified in equal measure.

I took my son for his first settling-in session last week.

I thought I'd be the mother of all cool about it. We've done this before. I am an old hand at giving my kids to other people to look after. The childminder is beyond brilliant (seriously - anyone who would regularly look after more than their own children deserves a knighthood).

My daughter has been going there for over two years.

A settling-in session should be viewed as a free half-hour to have a coffee without children.

Easy.

But as I approached the door with both children I suddenly, completely unexpectedly, got a massive, all-encompassing, head-to-toe rush of panic.

How has the time passed so quickly?

It felt like only yesterday that I was shouting at the midwife, 'I'M DOING A POO!'

For her to calmly respond, 'I can see the top of his head. It's not a poo. It's your baby.'

And now he's starting childcare?

I had a super-quick ugly cry on the doorstep.

Then rang the bell.

And thirty minutes later I picked them both up, neither of them having noticed I'd gone.

Which, although I should have been reassured, was a tad disappointing.

I have, for the last nine months, provided pretty much round-the-clock care. I've just shoulder-cried when dropping you off. Come on son, at least a momentary wonder as to where your mum's gone wouldn't be out the question, would it?

But two days later and it's the big guns.

The two-hour settling in session.

And I'm ready.

In fact I'm more than ready.

I've got so much stuff to do in those 120 minutes that I literally pass the children, rugby-ball style, to the childminder and start to address the small matter of sorting out my life before rejoining the workforce.

See, that's the thing with being a parent. You're constantly in flux.

Within an hour, you can go from having the most absorbing, calming time passing a piece of Duplo to and from a baby, to listening to two children scream so loudly from tiredness, you feel like your ears may bleed.

So maybe going back to work will be the best thing all round.

It will be the opportunity to commit to one thing. To finish a sentence. To go to the loo without someone watching me. To be asked my opinion on matters other than, 'what's your favourite colour, pink or dark pink?' between 9- 5.

And come 6pm, I will hold my children tighter than they'd like.

And inhale them.

Like they're the best smell in the world.

1 comment:

  1. All the very best for the big return to work. I'm sure all will go smoothly and yes the time has flown by, it really does seem like yesterday that I was reading about your son's arrival. Xxx

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