Remember when I decided to go back to work and then freaked out?
I sat there this morning thinking about all the wonderful things Lil and I would do during our up and coming trip to New York. Granted, she won't remember any of it. But we'll have pictures and I'll have the memories. And then I thought, how the hell am I going to afford to do half the things I want to? Not all of it's free. And then I panicked.
It was my decision to become a mother and it's easily the best, most fulfilling one I've made. I'm so lucky that I can stay at home to look after her. But I'm about to do a whinge now so please bear with me...
I miss pretty things. Buying a new pair of shoes and grinning for a month because my feet look lovely. Or coming home with some new clothes that make me feel good. I know, as mothers, we sacrifice a lot for our children. I'm more than willing to do this. I do do this. I would sell everything I own for my daughter. But just recently, I've been feeling pretty rubbish about the lack of new things in my wardrobe. I know this is selfish and materialistic and I hate myself for it. But I'm only human.
I really need to get a job. But if I went back to work, it would have to be part time. That's non-negotiable. So I looked, I found a few. I worked out how much I'd get a month minus nursery fees, minus travel. Guess how much I was left with...... minus £££££. I'm better off not going back to work and wearing knickers with holes in.
My heart hurts. I won't go back to work full time. Not yet, it goes against my personal beliefs as a mother. I must remember how lucky I am. I do remember. She reminds me everyday when I look at her. But I miss my job, I miss the money.
I miss that bastarding, evil paper that pays for prettiness and smiles.
(sorry to all my twitter readers...)
Whoever decided Mums don't get paid a salary: FUCK YOU. Our job is the god damn hardest. FUCK YOU. I need news clothes. FUCK YOU.