A Woman’s Work


Some days I wake up and my head is fizzing with who I am meant to be that day. Of course the first and most important role is that of MUuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmy. I don’t tend to be awake before the small people that require that job from me are and I clock off late so this one is all consuming. And these guys are needy, with the most sub-roles that stem from the main position, and they pay the least but, well the way they pay makes up for that because their ‘I love you’s’ and snotty kisses go a lot further than money somehow. Unfortunately though I still have to earn money so I have to expertly juggle like most modern day women do.

Those other jobs? There are many. Housekeeper, dogsbody, accountant, cleaner, businesswoman, writer, car maintenance woman, taxi service, chief bin taker-outerer, secretary, damage-limitation consultant, peace-negotiator, entertainment manager, The Fun Police, educator, school liaison officer, HMRC tax expert, admin assistant who doubles as the phone hanger-on-er-er, decision maker, content editor, nutritionist, cook, washerwoman, fashion writer, retail journalist, landlady, B&B host, blogger…

The one thing I am not is a wife or indeed a wife and mother. That’s what I signed up for. This was meant to be a team game with two people bringing their core strengths together to make and form two perfect people.  Instead my shot at parenthood has been a very individual sport. I have support from the wings, amazing support, but the star player is on her own for much of it because those little people, well the only other person they would have do all those jobs in their lives, he has gone. My mum tries, my family try, Cameron does a great job but ultimately the buck stops with me and sometimes I wake up wanting to go back to sleep again because it is all too much. But unless I get a Calvin & Hobbs Duplicator machine then it’s onwards and onwards for me.