I didn't consider that having three young children and a shop would be a tad difficult. I thought I could be WonderWoman but when I was eight months pregnant I realised I was actually BlunderWoman and hadn't given a thought to how I was going to manage the kids, the shop, the cost of childcare, the general day-to-day stuff and the stress. So it was bye bye shop and hello full-time motherhood. Which worked. For about six months. I loved being in the newborn baby bubble and standing still for a while. I think The Husband couldn't quite believe it. Nor could I. But then I came to my senses and no longer wanted to be a member of the Cult Of Motherhood, I would worship no more at The Temple Of The Child, I was - in a word - BORED.
My day reeked of groundhog: get woken early by the children, get them breakfast, organise oldest two for school, tell oldest two to hurry up, TELL OLDEST TWO TO HURRY UP, put wash on, think about having an alcoholic drink, think about exercise, read 'The Hungry Caterpillar', pick kids up, feed & bath them, bribe the kids to bed early, watch crap telly, sleep.
All of this punctuated by changing nappies and answering to 'Mummy, I need youuuuu'.
Now some of you out there enjoy this and I take a big hat off to you because I don't, and sometimes I wish I did. In my opinion, motherhood is changing and there are more of us out there rebelling and wanting a separate identity. But it's hard. I'll let you into a secret - these successful women who appear to have to all (a great career, a great family life), well THEY HAVE A NANNY! And I would kill for a nanny, even if she chained smoked, wore my clothes, stole the loo roll and ran up a long-distance phone bill.
So I had The Conversation with The Husband who could probably see it coming a mile off and told him my woes that I wanted to work but what do i do about the children when the only option is paying for help. The Husband, bless him in his innocence, suggested I get a night job in Aldi or Lidl. He didn't even mention Waitrose or John Lewis! So my life basically would become the groundhog day as described but the sleep bit would be replaced with go out to work. (note: I know a couple of fabulous mums who do this and they are truly wonderful, far better creatures than I ever hope to be and possibly far less selfish). Anyway, we couldn't agree on a solution. I always come up with reasons like who sorts the kids when they are ill, which he says are excuses but funny how the answer to this kind of question is always me.
So after a year of trying to decide what I want to do when I grow up, I've come up with the following: A part-time job please. Three days a week that fits around school hours. And school holidays. That provides a nanny (free). Salary of around 50k. Work uniform of Marc Jacobs, Prada Sport and Gucci included. Occasional travel to the Maldives. Lunch hour at The Ivy with never ending supply of Grazia mag. Dinner to take home. CVs that include past breast feeding, nappy changing, broken sleep, ironing and tantrum dealing will only be considered.