Glum Mum

Lately I feel as though I am sliding. I can't seem to grip onto the sides; there is no branch for me to grab to halt my descent. I'm sinking under a weight of options - a hundred kilos of decisions to be made. I'm overwhelmed by it all and I seem to have given up all hope that I'll make it out of this funk I'm in. 

Where did it start? I would have to say it all began when Frankie started to take the bottle. I was joyous at the prospect of independence for the first time; I could give Frankie over to someone else to look after so that I could grab a few precious hours to myself. But with this good fortune came fear - I no longer had an excuse for not putting Frankie into daycare and going back to work. 

The dreaded 'w' word (that's right, 'work') has plagued me my entire life. I have never found my niche or comfort zone professionally and have lived a life of freelance ever since, wanting never to be bound by the chains of permanent employment. With the end of every contract I've uttered the words "I want a career change", but I've never had the guts to go out and do it. (NB: This is not exactly true. I did try, once, and did  my TEFL course in Prague. This coincides with the time that Frankie was conceived, so I never actually achieved that illusive career change). 

I now have a child that I'm responsible for. I'm not married to a doctor. My partner isn't even a banker. So I guess it means I simply must return to work to make sure that we can afford Sydney rent, swimming lessons, GP appointments, and petrol. The deadline is looming - we move out of my parents' house in a little over a month, so I simply must decide what I want to do when I return to the working world. It is this decision which is weighing me down and causing my chest to compress until the air escapes from me in a whimper.

What makes things worse is that I see supermums all around me. You know the type; women who have no problems making it to their exercise class, cooking, keeping a tidy house, looking a million dollars, and raising well behaved babies all at the same time. Here I am, exasperated by a child that never stops moving, my hair in a permanently disheveled,  still with 5kilos of babyweight to lose, and takeaway on the table more nights than most. How will I ever manage going back to work? 

There are thousands of options for me professionally and I am grateful for my education and experience in advertising. But is this what I want to do? Can I afford to start in a new career on a hefty paycut? And what career, exactly, could I get into?

I haven't even thought about my childcare options which is yet another worry, because I'm led to believe that the waiting lists are longer than a queue to the Primark sales in Manchester. "Everything will work out in the end", or so we are constantly told, but who really believes this? 

I know I want another child and I feel guilty that I want this bubba to arrive soon to give me another excellent excuse for delaying my next career move. Motherhood is without a doubt my favourite job ever, and the realisation that this is going to move from a permanenet role into a part-time position when I go back to the real world has me much more upset than I would ever wish to be.