So, my life has become a little hectic.
I have started work. You know, a leave-the-house job, where I walk in at a mutually agreed time and stay there until a mutually agreed finish. In between those times I am at a desk tapping away.
It’s a great job. I am thrilled, excited and humbled. It’s a temp role, initially, with maybe some potential to become permanent part time. I am even more thrilled at this prospect.
Having a job means I guard my at-home days jealously. Having a job means I am not as flexible with my own writing, on here and my manuscript. Having a job means that my children are becoming more and more responsible. Having a job means that all the mum stuff I do gets crammed in after school, at night, or on the days I am at home. Having a job means that I am exhausted.
But very happy.
I have had to shelve my own pleasures to ‘work for the man’. But for me, it’s healthy to get back into work mode (and it’s actually fun – working includes getting paid, which leads to buying new clothes to wear to the office), to abide by workplace practices, grow and nurture my skills, get alongside colleagues and do something external to me and my little world.
I am stepping back out there. And loving it.