So last night I spent a very enjoyable evening (except for getting acid reflux- ah the joys of bodily dysfunction after childbirth) with a gang of great mums and kids, watching the fireworks from a window which overlooked Hove cricket ground. We were a mixed bunch; some single mums, some working mums, some stay at home mums- but we all had only children which made a refreshing change, as lately I seem to be surrounded by people having more and more offspring and it makes my head fuzzy.
So there we were, supping our wine and eating our sausages, and we ooohhhed and we aaahhhed at the technicolour explosions before us, from the comfort of her warm living room. As we chatted about what we did outside of being mums, it got me thinking about being a parent and how each one of us has to work around our kids and work out our priorities. I've been lucky in that I haven't had to go back to work in order to make sure we had food on the table. Some extra money would have helped but I had the choice, and I chose to stay at home whilst occasionally taking on the odd part time job. This is all very well and good, and now that Sadie has started school I am so glad I was able to spend so much time bringing her up, but my brain has, quite frankly, turned to houmous. The part time jobs I have had over the years have varied in their ability for me to use my brain (I've been known to go from being a PA to a saleswoman in less than 24 hours), but as an example of my gooey brain I will tell you about my job working in a maternity shop;
A simple occupation you may think, yet my brain could not even deal with this level of a challenge. On numerous occasions I would forget to turn on the burglar alarm (I was the only one working there), close windows, take items to the post office before leaving them inside the shop and posting the key through the door, and, on more than one occasion, would forget to charge someone in pounds rather than pence for a pair of rather exclusive designer maternity jeans. Oh the shame.
I think there should actually be a course specifically designed for us women (or men), who've stayed alone at home for 4 years with a small person (save for the odd playgroup where you are just surrounded by equally mushy minded adults and more small people)to help get our brains retrained into the adult world. Ask me how to draw a skilfully-drawn stick person, or make alphabet brownies, or play 'What's the time Mr Wolf?' and I'm your girl, but ask me to do a simple task like go to a post office before it shuts, and I'm lost. And also probably out of a job and back at home making rockets out of pritt stick and fairy liquid bottles.....
Soundtrack: David Bowie- Oh You Pretty Things
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2 comments:
Fabulous, far more the length I'm accustomed to. Fnar fnar.
How posh are you, with your brain turning to houmous? Mind you, in seven dials the brains probably turn to houmous with a dash of saffron for that added piquancy. I'm tempted to write a mush-equivalent for all other areas of brighton, but instead will save it for our run later. Calm yourself.
x
I know- I realised after I wrote that how utterly 'Hove Actually' I've become. I remember a time I would have used mushy peas as an example... and proudly so... x
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