Oooh....I couldn't do that....

is usually the standard response when people ask what I do for a living.  No, I haven't just told them that I spend my life knee deep in sewage or any other revolting job, neither have I told them the reality of being a working mum and the endless, thankless list of jobs that goes with that.  Truth is that I love my job, I can't think of any other job that I would rather do.  Admittedly I could do without the stress at times and it would be a lot better if we had more staff, more space, more equipment, but that's pretty much the same wherever you go.  

Someone once asked me if I feel guilty working fulltime and leaving Lottie in nursery from six months old.  I'll be honest, initially I did, I wondered why I was trusting my precious daughter with strangers, until another friend pointed out that's what the parents of the children that I look after are doing from the moment they are born.  Totally different ends of the spectrum, but that's when I stopped feeling guilty.  Lottie has a ball at nursery, she has a circle of friends who she loves and is in an environment where she thrives, why should I feel guilty for my child having fun?

Inevitably there is at least one "research" study done a year that shows that if you go to work, you are damaging your child, if you stay at home, you are damaging your child, if they don't participate in baby yoga, baby signing, baby massage and have playdates every other day, then you are damaging your child, but too many classes and you're a pushy parent!  Working mums often get negative press.  The image is portrayed as the mum who doesn't see her children, rushes through dinnertime and bedtime and then shoves them off to childcare the following morning whilst madly trying to brush her hair and wipe the baby sick from her clothes.  OK, so the last two statements do apply to me, I've been known to do both whilst trying to get out of the door for 6.45am, but I can honestly say that being a "working mum" (I hate that term - all mums are working mums!) isn't THAT bad, it's just a case of time management and when I invent the time-stopping device, I will be able to finally recover a bit more ME time!

Tap Tappity Tap...........

Picture the scene - one slightly chilly dance studio, surrounded by other mums and a selection of small children milling around, eagerly waiting to go and shake their booty in the next lesson! There I am happily watching my beautiful daughter dressed in her pink leotard and shiny silver tap shoes thrashing around to the sound of her own voice, whilst her exasperated Tap teacher tries to regain control of eight toddlers who would rather be the cast of High School Musical than cute little monkeys from The Jungle Book, when her Ballet teacher (are you with me so far?) asks if I would be interested in joining the Adult Tap class! What an offer, a chance to wear a pink leotard and silver tap shoes, surely I couldn't pass this opportunity by! So I agree, thinking it will be a piece of cake, can't be that difficult, if Lottie can throw her shapes (literally) around the dance studio, then Mummy can have a go - anything she can do, I can do. So, one phone call to Neil later (to make sure that the bank account will take the hit for the enormous leotard needed to cover my arse) and voila, I'm booked in for the next lesson.  

With much trepidation, off I go! Not quite so much of a skip, hop and tappity tap, more of a run through the scary dark alley shortcut and my Mum on the end of the phone thinking that a sex line has accidently called her with the amount of heavy breathing that I am doing by this point! Bloody hell I'm unfit and I still have an hour of tapping to do yet! The first lesson goes pretty well and although I have to contain my disappointment at not being able to "Build a House" like the Tweenies, I am in the School Summer Show! So, my tap shoes are ordered (sadly not in silver, but boring black), but there is no leotard big enough to cover my arse and having seen the costumes for the show, a serious diet is needed. Maybe the post-lesson chocolate bar wasn't such a good idea!

Responsibility and Traffic Cones.....

It seemed like a good idea at the time seems to be my standard catchphrase when I volunteer myself or get coerced into something!  Am sure that you've all been there - the ideas that seem like a good idea at the time but turn out to be something much worse!  I have to say that I do seem to get myself into these stupid situations, usually through my own fault and often involving alcohol.  You've all been there - the dodgy kebab after a night out, the bloke who you thought looked like Brad Pitt, but only resemblence was the blonde hair and the stupid ideas with traffic cones and bricks, which end up with your house resembling a building site, only without the arse cracks on display, more like your mates baps as she flashes the bus driver, nearly causing a RTA on the way home from the pub!  What do you mean it must've just been me?!

Anyway, now I am a grown-up and although a student, I'm not one who can get away with staying out until 3am and then making the 9am lectures, now I have to actually think and pay attention in them - hell, I'm a Mature Student!!  So now you know a bit about me - I'm a grown-up, responsible Mummy to one little girl, engaged to one bloke and trying to juggle a full-time job, part-time study and full-time motherhood whilst trying to stay slightly sane and not make bad decisions - these have been slightly reduced since my alcohol blood levels have finally returned to normal and I no longer make decisions whilst under the influence of alcohol.  Now if you offer me a chocolate bar, that's a different story.......................