Back to work, AKA Leaving the Lads.

Hi, I’m Jake’s mummy… I mean Sarah. Hi, I’m Sarah.
I’ve just returned to work after maternity leave with my second (and last) baby, and I’m constantly fighting the urge to introduce myself as Jake’s mummy, since that’s been my name for the past year. At work, I have to remind myself again that I’m Sarah, somebody who has always worked efficiently and felt confidence in her ability to do her job. Right now, I feel new there. The pandemic has forced my employer to make a lot of changes (not before time, to be honest, and I know they’d agree) so the workplace I’ve come back to is very different to the one I left.

Since I’ve returned to work once before, after my first, Benji (nearly 3 now), I was surprised that this second time around the guilt smacked me unexpectedly in the face like a fast serve from Emma Raducanu. Maybe because pressure from society and the high cost of childcare have left me feeling like I should stop working and take care of my children full-time but… that’s not for me.

It goes without saying that I love my children, but that was never the plan. I still want a career and I don’t want to take time out of it and then struggle to get back in. Maybe that’s selfish – it feels a bit selfish. And that leads to more guilt.

The current problem is that I feel like I am doing two jobs but I’m being average at both of them. I know (think?) I’m a good mother (most of the time) but now when they get home, I’m distracted, because without even trying to, I’ve been drawn straight back into struggling to switch off.  And in the office (or… WFH back at the kitchen table on Teams 70% of the day), I know I’m good at client engagement, but right now, when everything feels strange to me, I don’t know where to begin with picking that up again. And let’s not forget, my brain is mush now. Complete mush. 

I should introduce myself properly, because I’m making that classic mistake of being all my kids this and my kids that. I married what some might consider a little late, in fact, I had honestly come to accept that that was it for me. A single life, very happy and surrounded by family and friends, but no ‘great love of my life’, maybe no kids, or at least the hard decision about whether to go it alone or not.

Then I met James, that story is for another time, but 7 years on, we have two boys. The laaaads as they get called around here. 

I wasn’t expecting boys, I come from a long LONG line of female only generations and both my sisters had girls, but bam, willies! Quite the learning curve as any mother of boys will tell you. I think statistically you are far more likely to get wee in your mouth with boys…. and I have. 

They are a delight, happy and healthy with these amazing characters and smiles that will melt your heart. But they are also awful, they already fight each other – the big lad kicks and pushes while the little one is a biter (again, another story). Meanwhile I try to mediate without getting hurt – because the play can be rough and they’re only going to get bigger which worries me. This is lad motherhood. And I’m ok with that. 

I have started this blog because, even if nobody reads it, and I hope someone does, it’s a creative outlet that I need. It’s not going to be filled with advice, preaching or healthy recipes, it’s just going to be my thoughts, pretty unfiltered. There will potentially be some rants and raves but ultimately I hope to share the humour in it all and express that I genuinely wouldn’t have it any other way.

If my experiences help others feel better about their own, if I make someone laugh, or feel a little less alone in a world where filtered Instagram perfect mummy’s live, then that’s all I really want. 

This is my first attempt, so any feedback is very welcome. 

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