...it's Juggler

Life hit me full pelt this morning when I walked into the boy’s room to the smell of vomit.  After a lovely weekend away for my Mum’s wedding, the Monday I had planned was giving the boy to a friend while I worked and unpacked.  He had other plans, as did my cats.  The morning was instead spent cleaning up the boy, his room, then the living room and kitchen where the cats, not wanting to be left out, had thrown up all over the rug.  I managed to squeeze in the unpacking and a bit of work too of course!

I am a mother and I work part-time.  It’s a very personal choice and what suits some doesn’t suit others so this blog isn’t about judging anyone’s decision.  I am racked with guilt, but my guilt doesn’t lie with the lack of time I spend with the boy, it’s the guilt I feel about neglecting my own career.  I am lucky I can work most of my hours when the boy is sleeping, which some would say means I get the best of both worlds.  (Sometimes it is, but sometimes I feel like I’m working two full time jobs.)  But I don’t have a ‘career’ anymore.  I’m just working.  I get to be a ‘stay at home mum’ to the boy which is what I want, and I love it.  But sometimes I want my career back.

At the moment I have paused, who knows when I will start climbing that ladder again and will it be too late?  I’m regularly reminded of my impending middle-age and how behind my career is by other women my age with amazing, well-paid jobs.  How do these women do it and where did I go wrong?!

Unfortunately the decision itself – to work or stay at home isn’t as easy as it first appears.  Childcare, maternity leave, money, guilt all hold more weight than my desire to do well.  The three options as I see them are; be a full-time stay at home mum and be poor (obviously I don’t mean everyone who has this option is poor, but it would mean we were), work part-time which means juggling money and childcare, the career doesn’t work part-time but at least you’ve got a toe in the door.  The final option is to work full time, still be poor (maybe slightly better off but not much after I’ve paid for childcare), keep the career alive but never see the boy.  Some days I want one and other days I want the other.  Why can’t I just make a decision and stick to it?!  Whichever one I choose, the money doesn’t really change. 

Is it because I don’t feel important as a mother?  Society places such value on the role you do.  When you say “I’m a mother or I work part-time”, you see people’s eyes glaze over and stifle a yawn, assuming that what you do is boring and un-interesting. 

It doesn’t help that childcare in the UK is some of the most expensive in the world and the maternity benefits are pretty poor too in comparison.  It seems to me other countries value their mothers and women more.  The argument of ‘why should I pay taxes so you can stay home to look after your brats’ just reinforces that mothers who stay at home to bring up their children aren’t seen as playing an important role or even working.  The words ‘stay at home’ do the same – I don’t stay at home.  I go to toddler groups or toddler yoga or I do the shopping, or cleaning or play-dates.  I see part of my role as a mother as a job.  I don’t particularly want to go and sit in a room with other Mum’s I don’t know, but it’s part of my job and like most people’s jobs there are things we like doing and things we don’t.  Just because there are more elements to my ‘job’ that are enjoyable doesn’t mean it’s not hard or not valuable.  Perhaps if I felt the role I was performing was important I wouldn’t feel so conflicted.

I am impatient and I like being in control.  In my head I say to myself “get your kids out of the way and then once you’re at school you can re-start your career”  “Your kids are only young once, you’re going to be working for years and years.”  And I know this makes sense.  BUT....I’m scared.  I see women who are so young and have achieved so much.  What have I achieved?  See, there I go again selling my role as a mother short, I have achieved raising (so far) a beautiful, well-behaved, happy little boy.  I do have a career – even if it is momentarily paused, a home, friends and family.  So why do I feel that something is missing or wrong.  I’m scared that if I leave it too long I will be left on the shelf.  I’ll be too old and I’ll have missed all the opportunities my young counter-parts will have already had.  I want everything now! 

My name this blog is ‘Juggler’, but not the normal way you’d assume a mother is a juggler, it’s juggling my own thoughts, needs and fears and perhaps I really could do with dropping some of them.

...It's SMOB

Last week I learnt a new word: 'SMOG'.  It stands for Smug Mum of Girls.  I am the mother of a boy.  Does this make me a SMOB?  Is there such thing as a SMOB?

Apparently all mothers really, deep down want a girl.  Those that do are SMOGs.  Not just because they have their darling little girl, but because they are the fairer sex; they are nicer, calmer, and get to wear pretty clothes. 

Now although I would have been happy with either sex, and would be happy if the next one, whenever that may be, is a girl, just a little bit of me wanted a boy more.  I wanted a boy for a number of reasons:

I wanted my younger children to have an older brother.  Perhaps this is because being the eldest and being a girl, sometimes I used to wish for an older brother for myself (this could also be because I didn't live with my Dad)

I grew up in an all female house.  Two sisters and my mum.  There were times when it resembled a battle field.  I have seen relationships between mothers and their sons and from afar they just don't seem as difficult emotionally.  (I am coming at this from a completely one-sided view and with very little experience so it's all tongue in cheek!)  I like that once a family of boys get older, the mother, although she may get picked on, is also very protected.

I've always got on well with boys.  I have always had male friends, even at primary school I remember playing TJ Hooker (police tv show for those too young to remember) with boys in my class.  Throughout school, at work and at university, I have been able to get on well with boys.  Perhaps my preference for a boy was because I felt I'd like him more than a girl!

Now that I've had a boy, people ask if I want the next one to be a girl.  I can honestly say I don't.  I would be happy if it was a girl, but I would be just as happy if it was a boy.  I know you're not supposed to say what you would 'prefer', but I think I like the idea of two boys.  I don't have this need that some women (or all if you believe the SMOGs) have for a little girl.

I've experienced having a boy (for only a short time I know!) but in comparison to girls, they seem easier.  I'm not the only person that thinks this.  I have spoken to mothers and carers that feel the same.  There is a misconception that boys are boisterous and loud, but it's the girls I see at groups or friend's girls that are much more feisty and independent.  Many mums tell me that boys are more loving.  They like to be affectionate and will sit and cuddle. 

One of the things that SMOGs are smug about apparently is clothes.  They say they feel sorry for mums of boys who have little choice and can only dress them in dark colours.  I feel sorry for mums of girls whose only choice is pink, pink and more pink!  That's all I see when I go shopping, they may have more clothes to choose from but you're still stuck between flowers, fairies and pink.  ALL children's clothing is poor, whether you are a boy or a girl!

My final reasons for wanting a boy have more to do with my experience as a woman.  When boys become men their lives are much simpler.  They don't get pregnant.  They don't wear make-up.  They don't fixate about their body.  They don't get raped.  They don't choose bad men.  BEFORE YOU START SHOUTING AT ME...this is generally speaking.  Of course I know these things happen to men.  I just mean that overall there is much more I would worry about with a girl.  As a woman I think life is a little harder than it is for a man.  I'm not saying that being a man is easy, just easier.

My boss once told me that she raises her two son's to be good husbands; good men, sensitive, the kind of men we would like our daughters to bring home.  So what do we raise our girls to be?  From what I've seen most are strong, independent, aggressive little things in pink.  Women that can stand up to the inequality they face and be strong in a world where men are dominant.  Perhaps the stereotypes are reversing and the next generation of Mums will all be SMOBs, proud of their nice, calm boys.  That must mean I'm ahead of the times because I already am a gloating SMOB.

...It's jobseeker

The Fairy Jobmother on channel four has to be one of the most depressing TV shows I've watched.  The 'fairy jobmother' is incredibly patronising and I do not believe that she would do any of the jobs she forces the people she claims to help. It's even worse since I became a job seeker myself and have been signing on.

When I first walked through the doors of my local jobcentre, the woman asked me if I was a single mum (I had the boy with me), asked if I worked and how old my son was.  She then said "well you need to make an appointment, but I'm sure you'll get sommat."  Yeah, a job, I hope! 

I felt pretty positive about signing on initially, thinking that I would get career advice and help to find a job that I could fit around the boy and would make sense for me financially.  After my first visit...I cried.  What an awful, depressing environment the job centre is and I challenge anyone to go there and feel positive about job hunting on their way out.

You are interviewed first by your 'key worker' who finds out a bit about you and then shows you where you could be looking for work.  Except, my 'key worker' asked me what hours I could work, how old I was and how old my son was.  He didn't listen.  He asked what I would like to do.  He told me I wouldn't find jobs like that here.  He then showed me a list of categories and said choose two that you would be interested in doing.  He took no notice.  Turning the computer round he asked me "how about applying for this?"  'This' was a job that was minimum wage, every weekday between 11 - 2, in a category I'd not ticked.  Now perhaps I was being a job snob, but I had told him, I already worked part time (but less than 16 hours a week, I wasn't committing fraud!) and needed a job that paid at least the same, I have no childcare so need to work hours the man is home (which is not in the middle of the day!)

I felt very disheartened.  I was hoping someone was going to show me all the options I had available.  Talk me through perhaps retraining, going back to university, what childcare I would be entitled to if I did a certain job.  Instead I was given my documents, asked if I'd looked for a job that week and taken back to the lift. 

Each time I went, I became increasingly angry and defensive.  My personality changed as I walked through the doors; knowing that I was going to be looked at by the people that worked there like something they'd stood in, spoken to like I was an idiot, and treated like I was there just to get money (when in fact I wasn't entitled to anything) meant that I behaved differently. 

My last experience was the worst.  I had to take the boy with me, who was unhappy about having to sit there while the woman I was waiting for chatted merrily to her colleague for half an hour.  (Perhaps she was rubbing it in to all the surrounding job seekers that even though she was doing bugger all at least she had a job, unlike the dole scum she was looking down her snooty nose at - see what happens to me!)  As the boy became more restless a man came over and said he would try to get my name to the top of the list (get his colleague to stop chatting) and then said "you shouldn't bring him here, he'll get bored."  I nearly exploded with rage, but was afraid I'd be escorted out by one of the security they employ to control the riff raff.  Then the woman who I'd been waiting for repeated what the man had said.  I'm sure you can imagine what happened next.  "Don't you think I know that!  I don't have anyone to look after him, I'm not stupid!  And if you hadn't sat around on your arse chatting for the last half an hour we would have been out of here!"

And with that I signed off.

I am one of the lucky ones.  I pity anyone that has to sign on, not because you get a small amount of money to live on and not because it's hard trying to find a job but because going to sign on at the job centre even for a few weeks is depressing, sad and no help at all.  You leave with no confidence, no self worth, and no job.  For people that have been signing on for a long time, the job centre is the biggest barrier to them getting a job.

...It's Daughter-in-law

Dutiful daughter-in-law, I like to think! 

I know last weekend was Father's Day here in the UK, but I ended up treating my mother-in-law (MIL) to a trip to the theatre.  We had a lovely time, while the man and his Father stayed at home enjoying some quality time together. 

It made me wonder if when I have another child would I like another boy or a girl (obviously I'm not really fussed as long as it's healthy blah blah)  If you only have sons (and assuming they get married) do you just get the best bits of a daughter?

I lived with my two sisters and we fought, bitched, stole from each other (and my Mum).  The stories the man tells me of his childhood with his brothers sounds more like a famous five novel - getting into scrapes, playing together and sharing adventures.  I'm sure it's not actually how it was, but boys do have a reputation of being easier.

The relationship with my mum has had it's up and downs and can be strained at times.  With a daughter-in-law, I imagine just having the ups.  They are grown up, independent, and mature so do you get the mother-daughter relationship but without having to go through the nightmare of having a teenage girl?  I know that I make more of an effort with my MIL as she has no daughters.  I think it's even more important to make sure she feels involved and that I'm not taking her son away.  In fact I make sure the man rings her at least once a week which is more than I talk to my mum!

Perhaps, because I don't have the conventional mother-daughter relationship I feel differently to most.  Will I actually find that if my son gets married, she'll be so close to her mum that I won't get a look-in?  It must be hard to do all the hard work of raising a child and see someone else reaping the rewards if the MIL comes along and has the mother-daughter relationship.

Through all this I haven't considered the fact that I might be the MIL from hell (in the eyes of my daughter-in-law)  The more I consider this, the more likely I think it will be.  The boy is only 18 months old and already he has had unwanted attention from a two year old girl at the swings.  I say 'unwanted'; he had a massive smile on his face while I was scowling at the child's mother!  If nobody is good enough for him now, god help the spotty, teenage girl with too much make up and too much attitude, that walks through my door on the arm of my son!

Who am I?

Before I go any further I feel I need to explain the name of my blog.  Ok, so technically my name is Mummy, but only to three people.  My son (the boy), and my two cats.  (Yes, I am not ashamed to say that I have recieved Mother's Day cards from them!) 

So, why is it that once 'the bump' became 'the boy', my friends and family seemed to forget my name?  To everyone that came to visit I was 'Mummy'.  "Get in the picture Mummy", "Doesn't your Mummy look good?" (This is a quote, honestly I didn't make it up) "Does Mummy want a cup of tea?"  Not only had people forgotten my name, they also forgot how to talk directly to me.

It's hard enough adapting to this new role that's been thrust upon you after nine months of preperation, but to lose your other identities, your name and the things that you're clinging on to for a small sense of normality is even harder.  I didn't want to be JUST mummy.  I suppose I should have been prepared for it by the amount of attention 'the bump' got in the last couple of months of my pregnancy.  It's a similar feeling to men who just stare at your boobs when you're talking.  Women who just stare at your bump.  I confess that I'm just as guilty, I love a good bump!

Me and 'the man' had discussed many times, (niavely) how our lives weren't going to change.  Few things we talked about have remained but one has.  He never calls me Mummy!  Is there anything worse than hearing a man say to his girlfriend/wife/partner, "Mummy, is it time for an early night" when there is no child around?  Or "Daddy, don't you look handsome?".  I understand by calling each other Mummy and Daddy, the children will catch on and hopefully won't call you anything else.  It could be worse I suppose, if you called each other bitch and arsehole, perhaps that's not something you want to be known as by your offspring!   We do use the words, but not directly, so the above would translate to " Doesn't YOUR Daddy look handsome".  If you stop using each others names, what else do you stop and who do you become to each other?

18 months down the line, I know that there is no such thing as 'just a mummy'.  The word 'just' undermines the huge amount of time, effort, blood, sweat and tears that being a mummy takes, yet it is used so often.  My name is Mummy and I wear that badge with pride...alongside many, many others.