January 7, 2011 § 2 Comments

The morning started off fine. Children bouncing off walls happily stuffed into coats and hats and deposited with childminder. Seat on train and nice half-hour read of book. (Room – Emma Donoghue – highly recommend.) Within one hour of being in the office my eyes have started to unfocus, I am hot and cold in turns, and I want to crawl under the desk and sleep for a week. It isn’t a virus. It is work. A sterile office where nobody talks. Pastel purple desk partitions and a royal blue carpet. My life force is being sucked out with every tap on my standard-issue dell keyboard.

 Ugh. Why did I spend a year obsessing about finding flexible part-time work only to accept the first job I was offered? Why didn’t I realise that although less tiring than childcare if you don’t care about the job it’s very hard to motivate yourself through the days?

Thank you, then, for this lovely little bundle of joy pushing against my waistband, clutching my P45 in his unborn fist. Perhaps it’s the fact that the decision has been taken out of my hands – with childcare costs and three under three I will have to be a full time mum for the foreseeable future. This time I’m determined to embrace it. I can hardly wait to waddle out of the revolving doors in six months time, never to look back.


§ 2 Responses to worksick

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading worksick at motherporridge.


%d bloggers like this: