How Not To Have A Career

Welcome to Blog Therapy.

Today sees another anonymous blog and its all about dealing with work and career, once you become a Mother. This guest poster is asking for some advice.
Take it away…

When I was 16, a combination of a great teacher and a university taster course planted a seed in my mind and suddenly I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I suddenly had a plan, I knew how to get there, and I was excited.

I must admit to being a little smug about it too, many of my friends at school had no idea what they wanted to do, and even after graduation from university some of them still didn’t really have a ‘plan’. But not me, I was sorted, I knew exactly where I wanted to be.

And I did it! I did better than I could have imagined at A-Levels, and enjoyed nearly all my lectures at uni (not the ones at 9am on the morning after the local student night admittedly) and despite a family crisis of the largest magnitude I still came out with a First Class degree, and a job! I couldn’t have been happier.

So, 15 years after that light bulb moment, how have I found myself in a perceived successful career, feeling like I don’t belong?

I’m trying to think of the moment where it all went wrong. There have always been down sides to the job (as I think there are in every job), and I’ve always been good at moaning. But I did well, climbed the ladder, and was doing ‘ok’. But since returning from maternity leave I have struggled to find my place, and struggled to find much enjoyment in it. Although everyone has Sunday night blues, mine have reached monumental levels and now seem to start on Friday. My stomach drops when I turn the corner into work.

Aspects of my job that used to excite me, international travel, now make me feel sick. I hate leaving my little boy, I have the biggest attack of the guilts.

I have fallen out of love with the industry as a whole; I don’t like the power our customer has. I’m not at all comfortable with the corporate hospitality (aka arse-kissing) my role now involves.

But what about the plus sides, there must be plus sides? I’m well paid. I get a company car. I live exactly 2.5 miles away from work, which is always useful as at least once a week I forget my phone. A company iPhone that is. I managed to negotiate 4 days a week so I get one precious day with my boy. Oh, and I get free lunch.

But now I actually feel trapped by these (well, maybe not the lunch, I’m not that shallow). I can’t see a way out. Worst of all I think my employer knows I’m trapped so have little interest in me as they know I won’t leave.

But I also know I can’t go on. I have just found out the expectation is that I will do more international travel in the near future, and I spend all my waking moments trying to work out how to get out of going. I have considered breaking a leg. Seriously.

I’m sure people will be thinking ‘her job sounds amazing what is she moaning about’ but I am really not happy. It is affecting my home life, I’m exhausted and don’t have any inclination to do anything outside of work. The only thing that keeps me going is my day off with my boy.

So what next? How do I get out? This is the big question. Every option I look at I think ‘yes, but…’and find an excuse. But I have realised that the only way things are going to change are if I change them. I know I need to get out the industry and the corporate world, but that is so frightening. I literally know nothing about anything else.

Is the grass always greener?

So a lot of gin has been drunk, and tears shed, but for the first time in a long time I’m starting to feel excited in between the periods of doom. I still have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do, but I know I’m going to do something. I’m not sure how I’m going to get round the obstacles, I’m pretty sure I will have to take a significant pay cut. I’ve had people tell me the grass isn’t always greener, but surely when there is no grass left then it’s worth a punt?!

Does something have to give?

If you would like to take part in Blog Therapy, get in touch via email firstimehitched@gmail.com

Photo credit – Google Image search, mumreinvented.co.uk

The tale of a toddler and a 24-hour urine sample

I am going to preface this by saying this post is about wee. If you don’t like wee then don’t read, ok pissy pants?

Mornings always start early in this house and today was no different.

Today I had to carry out a 24 hour urine sample (basically peeing into a 5 litre container) as part of my kidney test before starting chemo on the 6th.

It has to start with your first wee of the day and continues for 24 hours, pretty much self explanatory.

So I get my peeing jug I used when I was pregnant and sterilised it because this was the easiest way to get it in the frigging jug.
If you had or have a toddler, you will already be aware that going to the toilet on your own is quite the sacred act and its a rare occurrence to be able to enjoy a poo on your own, let alone trying to carry out a fiddly specimen test.

At 6.40am I set about doing my first wee. I’ll try not to give you a visual because it already bad enough that you know my fanny is up the creek without you visualising me squatting over a jug.

Oops. Sorry.

Where was I…oh yes, so I’m doing my…business and James plods along towards the loo and opens the door.

Mum-mum
Yes James,
Wee wee?
Yes, Mummy is having a wee
Poo?
No, no poo.
Juss wee wee?
Yes, just wee wee

He then proceeds to sit down in our very small, awkward toilet and give a commentary of me pouring in my urine into the frightening sized container.

Mum-Mum issa wee wee. Heee hee wee weeeeeeee.
Weeely. Poooo.

I really feel I need to clarify that I didn’t do a poo.

I put down the oil drum and usher James out and then we proceed to wash our hands for 5 minutes and he continues playing in the bathroom (which is entirely safe before anyone calls SS) and I go to do the washing up.

All is quiet and I think nothing of it until I hear…

Oh nooo

*Lots of clattering*

Bye Byeee weee-weee

I run to the bathroom just in time to see the last of my piss go down the drain. Bye bye wee wee indeed.

Cue a frantic call at 7am to the research nurse who, once she stopped laughing said that it wasn’t entirely uncommon event and that it shouldn’t hinder the test too much.

Clever bugger that toddler…I would have been upset if I wasn’t so impressed at his cap opening skills.

I’ve got trouble on my hands with that one.