I could join the circus.
Wouldn’t it be refreshing to spend some time on the open road, meet some quirky clowns, and hang with some (tame) tigers? I could be BFFs with the trapeze artist, and help the ringmaster polish his top hat. Besides, I’m an expert juggler. It’s pretty recent, but I’ve taken to it so well I’m thinking of doing it full time. Not that I have a choice.
I expected the worst. Even before it came around, people warned me to prepare for a rough ride. Other mammies, some family members, and even some work colleagues gently suggested that I might struggle with pangs of guilt and loneliness. They worried about whether I was ready. They worried about whether the wee man was ready. They meant well, but they didn’t quite know us as well as the big man does. He was certain we’d all be grand.
Going back to work is a big milestone for a first time Mammy, especially after a decent stretch at home. I walked back into the office on a Monday morning at the beginning of November, for the first time since last February. The first two or three hours turned out to be very busy, and by lunchtime, I felt like I had never been away. Someone even asked me, “were you on holidays for a while there? Where did you head to?” Em…. Ok.
It’s a strange one. You know you’ve had a life changing experience. You know that your life is richer than it has ever been. You are excited about different things now. The fact that Séimí claps his hands excitedly when you say “bualadh bos” releases enough happy hormones to get you through an exhausting late night shift. But the reality is that the world outside your baby bubble just keeps bustling along. Your life will never be the same again, and that mind-blowing change goes almost entirely unnoticed by the rest of the world. That particular life lesson takes a bit of time to digest.
For most people, it’s not that there’s been a massive shift in priorities. Any new Mammies I know always put their home lives ahead of their work lives, baby or no baby. It’s more like the juggling act, but it’s not as much fun as the circus variety. After 7 months at home, I had just begun to master the art of feeding everyone in the house when they needed feeding. I wasn’t blessed with the domestic Goddess gene, I didn’t even do home economics in school. I can’t sew, I have never even tried to tackle a roast dinner, and I have never baked a cake. Suffice to say, it didn’t come very naturally to me to have good wholesome dinners on the table in the evening, but at least I wasn’t working fulltime outside of the home aswell.
Now I come in at 7.30, on a good day, and juggle. Séimí needs his bedtime bottle straight away – juggle. I’m starving and the big man is working late – juggle. All that said, Séimí’s Daddy was right. We’re grand. I’m enjoying being an individual again, or at least that’s what it feels like to me. I have a job to do, and then I clock off and come home for cuddles. The smiles and giggles you get when you walk in the door are almost worth being away all day… almost. One way of looking at it is to say first time Mammies are forced to master the art of juggling. I prefer to think of it as being able to enjoy the best of both worlds.
Chat next week friends,
E x
