Ode to the tired ones

Ode to the tired ones

You, putting your make up on one handed, clinging onto the pole and trying not to poke yourself in the eye. Your skills are amazing. Nobody will be able to see those shadows. You have a Thomas the Tank Engine sticker on your bag. 

You, holding your head up with one hand, scrolling through baby photos with the other. I don't know what causes this compulsion to repeatedly look at our little ones' photos whenever they are absent; but keep going, zoom into those chubby little cheeks. Whoever is looking after them won't be able to resist loving them too. They are in good hands. 

You two, with your passive aggressive conversation about whose turn it is to cook, to clean, how you're going to manage the nursery run. Exhaustion breeds contempt. There's every chance your relationship will be perfectly fine when you finally get a full night's sleep. 

Me, calculating exactly how few hours sleep I got last night. A second coffee will make me feel nauseous. Tired and unable to focus, or on form but a little bit sick? This is just a phase. It's the big man's turn tonight; I will get to sleep again. Last day before the weekend. The little man was still adorable, even at 2am. 

You can do this. I can do this. We are all doing this, every day. 

Welcome, autumn

I've been away for two, long, glorious weeks. This morning it was dark when I got up. First time this Autumn; I am scared of what this lack of light will do. I usually get excited by Autumn. I love the clothes of it, the cosines as the nights draw in, the excitement before Christmas. This year, I can't seem to forget that all roads lead to February. I can't forget that claustrophobic feeling of not being able to do anything, get anywhere without heavy layer upon heavy layer, struggling to see just a few minutes of daylight. 

But today is Autumn. I started the day with a 10 minute sun salutation: I feel strong. 2 weeks away has given me some much needed perspective. I want a promotion. I'm ready for a promotion; I deserve a promotion. I also want more time at home. I am lucky: there is a compromise that I can make to get me both. So today, I will start my search for a job share partner. Somebody newly promoted, or somebody hungry as me. It feels a little like I'm about to start blind dating; who I find will change how the next months and years look, how they feel.

I am luckier than lucky that this is an option. That I have role models and support systems who can help and advise me in how to do this. 

I shouldn't have to feel so lucky. I shouldn't be looking at my the working mothers around me who are drowning. Simply, slowly, visibly, drowning, while their bosses look on, shake their heads and say "I told you so". Big organisations who want to nurture talent are still only paying lip service to family friendly work. The mum blogs are full of lessons of how to break free of the corporate slog, go it alone and be happy. They are less full of how to get this corporate world to belong to us as well. 

So today, I will start making the most of being lucky. I will not think of grey February; I will buy a jewel coloured cosy knit and find my boots. I will start the search for the woman who will accompany me on this next stage of my work journey. She's going to be awesome.