Waste Not

The events of last week left me feeling flatter than usual. So when Friday night finally arrived, all I could do was make myself comfortably numb, close my screens and set myself up on the lounge to reflect.

 

 

Life, aside from the predictability of the routine, is OK.

Nothing bad has happened to me?

 

 

Last week, I had the opportunity to see life from the perspective of someone less fortunate.

And I’ll tell you bluntly, what I saw was fucked.

 

 

The incident was on my mind all week.

I still think about it now.

 

 

When I find myself complaining, I remember.

When I think about my kids, I remember.

When I noticed too many lights on in my home tonight, I remembered…

 

 

And I got up and switched them off.

 

 

 

 

Because some people rub sticks together to get their light.

Because some people don’t have a magical white switch to flick.

Because some people don’t live in homes, with lights that they can leave on.

 

 

I was angry with myself last Friday.

First World Fuckwit’s Syndrome.

Guilty.

 

 

But sometimes it’s good to be angry.

Anger puts a fire in my belly. It makes me want to do something.

Something worthwhile.

 

 

Do you get FWFS?  What puts the fire in your belly?

 

 

Love,

Robo X

 

#IBOTing for the first time in ages over at Essentially Jess

Hump Day

Day two of the last week of school holidays and the dreaded hump day is here. 

It comes around on every school break.  It’s the day I realise that there’s limited holiday left and full-time work is just around the corner.

 

 

Great big exhale.

 

 

Most of my posts relate to the fact that I love my job and my kids at school.  I’m passionate about teaching most of the time.  But inevitably and I doubt that I’m alone on this, in the last week of holidays, the idea of returning to work bears a heavy, anxiety-inducing burden.

 

 

Today I’m worrying.

 

I’m worrying about a procedural review that I’ve been asked to conduct at school.  It’s something I haven’t done before, so I’m imagining late nights, Excel spreadsheets and tedious red tape.

 

I’m worrying about the student council elections that I have to arrange, with votes I’ll have to tally and kids I’ll have to disappoint.

 

I’m worrying about the black dog that term three weather often brings.

 

I’m worrying about the mornings and how on earth I’ll get my two dressed, fed and into the car on time, every day.

 

I’m worrying, as always, about my ‘day care guilt’ and I’m wondering if by working, I’m actually doing the right thing by my children.

 

 

Another great big exhale.

 

 

Sorry, but it’s hump day and I’m on a school holiday downer.

 

 

Do you worry about returning to work and leaving your kids?

Any tips?

 

 

Love,

Robo X

 

 

Linking with Essentially Jess for a bit of #IBOT action.

 

Driving and crying

Every day I call my babysitter to check on my kids.  During today’s call, I was told that my son was not well.  He was a little warm in the morning but I gave him Panadol and he seemed to settle. Now he was running a fever and he was asking for his Mama.   

 

Within the hour, I received a call telling me that Mr 4 had vomited and had to go to the doctor.  He was still asking for his Mama.

 

Admittedly and I hate to say this, I was annoyed. 

I know my son is sick, I know he needs his mother and I know he must visit the doctor. 

But in that moment all I could think about were deadlines I need to meet and the entire role I need to learn before I change position next year. 

I was so incredibly busy at work, I could barely even stop to take the phone call telling me that my son needed medical attention.

 

Guilt.

I felt that stifling guilt a working mother feels when she’s torn between children and her job.  I visualised the eye-rolling and knowing glances that some staff members would share.  

‘I’ll show them’, I thought, Robomumming out of the office with an enviro-bag full of marking and lesson preparation.

 

 

 Mr 4 was asleep on the lounge.  He was frightfully hot and groggy.  His face was burning and his usually perfect lips, were dry.  I picked up his frail little body and rushed him to the GP.

“I missed ya, Mama”, he said when he woke up in the waiting room.

 

My heart sank more than it usually does when he says this.

 

I stroked his hair away from his hot little face and held him tightly in my arms.

I noticed some spots near his neck and on closer inspection I saw that they formed a rash that stretched across his torso and between his shoulder blades. 

 

My God in Heaven help me. 

 

…..

It turns out that Mr 4 most likely has a throat infection, (we’re waiting on results) and the rash is something that should be monitored closely but more than likely is temperature related.

 

Thank you, God.

 

I cried all the way home. 

Driving and crying. 

The more I saw that sleepy boy’s head bobbing around in his booster seat, the more upset I became.

 

 

I wouldn’t ever put anything before my children but today, the prospect of leaving work was intolerable.   Even if just for a few brief minutes, why did I put fucking deadlines before the health of my child?

…

We’re home now.  Mr 4 is a bit better and I’m just hanging out with him on the lounge being silly and making him giggle.  His temperature is still high but he’s improving and the rash is fading.  The enviro-bag of work is still on the front seat of my car, destined to stay there until tomorrow. 

Instead of working, I thought I’d take a few brief minutes to reflect and share today’s lesson. Parent, partner, sibling or friend, it’s important to slow down and consider our priorities, ensure they are in the correct order.

 

Am I alone on this one?  Or are you willing to admit you drive and cry too?

 

Robomum X