I announced to my husband this week that if I didn't find a job by Christmas-time-ish, I wanted to have a third baby. I've never seen anyone's beard go pale before, but it was quite an interesting phenomenon. Poor Stu. The worst thing is, that for me it was quite a flippant comment. It is early days for job-hunting for September in the teaching profession and I have plenty of time as yet to get a job for next academic year. Also, surely I need to make a few important decisions first with regard to whether I want to be a full-time HOD or HOY or a part-time teacher? Stu began googling incessantly however and was grilling me as to how I should sign up to teacher recruitment agencies.
If I don't end up getting a job then the house is going to be pretty busy with both of us in it full-time. It's taken us 18 months to shake down to Stu working from home without us killing each other. He has had to conduct webinars to a background of hoovering and howling children and I have had to invent interesting school-holiday days out for kids, for free, in the pouring rain. No easy feat for either of us.
There are benefits. One of us takes the kids to school every day even though we both work. It's lucky really as Sebi would miss Breakfast Club before school as most days I'm dragging him begrudgingly from his bed by his big toe at nearly 7.45am. Zak is quite keen on the sound of Breakfast Club but only because he thinks he would have his breakfast at home and then top up with another one at club half an hour later. This is the child that isn't tending to have any time playing out at lunchtimes now that he has hit the Juniors and is allowed to go back for school-dinner-seconds...
My husband also has now learnt to use the toilet downstairs if I've just cleaned upstairs and vice-versa. The poor man does try everything in his power not to get under my feet and irritate me but unfortunately for him I seem to have the patience and the tolerance of a wasp in a jam jar. I now know on my days off that if I open the fridge at lunchtime and let out a little sigh, he tends to take me up to Molens for a sarnie. What a great chap - I definitely don't deserve him.
So, chucking a baby into the equation is probably not the best idea. Our weekday house is busy enough as it is. I was offered £100 this week to do a champagne tasting; with me doing as much 'tasting' as the potential customer. Dream. Job. I need to be very, very nice to the lady concerned in the run up to next summer as one or two of those a week could be all I need to keep me interested. Definitely what a Masters in Drama in Education should lead into I think...
Friday, 26 September 2014
Thursday, 11 September 2014
On the Weekly Wagon
I've given up boozing in the week and I'm rather proud of myself. I know that for many of you this is a lifestyle change that you will have made a long, long time before the age of 37 but for me it is a new found trick so bear with me.
Let's clarify 'week' here too. Obviously I'm a massive boozer so five days off just wouldn't work for me. I do not see how you can't count either Friday or Sunday as not being the weekend as it really wouldn't be fair to either of them. So, by 'week', I actually mean four days, I don't want to sell myself short however so I must also elucidate by saying that it is four days and FOUR NIGHTS. On the trot. Over 100 consecutive hours each week, (well two so far), of no drinking. Hooray for me.
I feel pretty great. I know it's not rocket science but my brain seems more engaged at work, my body feels healthier and I am sleeping fantastically well. I've spent years telling people that I always have to get up in the middle of the night for a wee since I had the kids. Over the last fortnight I have discovered that it is actually wine in my bladder that has got me up at night rather than ancient childbirth sagging. Incredible.
I have been sitting at home all this time though, I haven't, as yet, been out anywhere during the week. I'm not completely convinced that this non-alcoholic zeal will last through a night at the theatre next week, or in fact any time that I actually talk to people other than my husband, but that's OK. I think I've probably already added about another ten years onto my life over the last couple of weeks, and so we are heading, finally, in the correct direction.
In other news, Stuart had to go on a speed awareness course this week and I was interested to see how his attitude changed on his return. I have spoken to a lot of people who have done these courses and have come back completely converted to the belief in speed limits. Surely not my husband? I don't have a problem with speed limits but he tends to be a bit of a boy racer. Probably because when all of his peers were boy racing back in the day, he was on the bus. Anyway, although it may have slowed him down slightly I'm pleased to say he is not evangelising about the danger of our roads to anyone who will listen. One newly converted smug bastard in our house is more than enough at the moment.
Let's clarify 'week' here too. Obviously I'm a massive boozer so five days off just wouldn't work for me. I do not see how you can't count either Friday or Sunday as not being the weekend as it really wouldn't be fair to either of them. So, by 'week', I actually mean four days, I don't want to sell myself short however so I must also elucidate by saying that it is four days and FOUR NIGHTS. On the trot. Over 100 consecutive hours each week, (well two so far), of no drinking. Hooray for me.
I feel pretty great. I know it's not rocket science but my brain seems more engaged at work, my body feels healthier and I am sleeping fantastically well. I've spent years telling people that I always have to get up in the middle of the night for a wee since I had the kids. Over the last fortnight I have discovered that it is actually wine in my bladder that has got me up at night rather than ancient childbirth sagging. Incredible.
I have been sitting at home all this time though, I haven't, as yet, been out anywhere during the week. I'm not completely convinced that this non-alcoholic zeal will last through a night at the theatre next week, or in fact any time that I actually talk to people other than my husband, but that's OK. I think I've probably already added about another ten years onto my life over the last couple of weeks, and so we are heading, finally, in the correct direction.
In other news, Stuart had to go on a speed awareness course this week and I was interested to see how his attitude changed on his return. I have spoken to a lot of people who have done these courses and have come back completely converted to the belief in speed limits. Surely not my husband? I don't have a problem with speed limits but he tends to be a bit of a boy racer. Probably because when all of his peers were boy racing back in the day, he was on the bus. Anyway, although it may have slowed him down slightly I'm pleased to say he is not evangelising about the danger of our roads to anyone who will listen. One newly converted smug bastard in our house is more than enough at the moment.
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