Two months in (selected) tweets

Right. This work lark ain't particularly conducive to blogging. Who knew? Still, as I do occasionally send out the odd random tweet, I thought I'd use this medium to bring you up to speed. I know, I know, it's cheating, but Mr Tin has been complaining that this is the only medium through which he finds out what I'm up to.

First off, the usual new job jitters:

I only hope new job won't involve making too many decisions, as it's taken entire w/e to work out what to wear on 1st day (still undecided).
— Julie (@SardineTin) January 26, 2014

Even 10 years on you can still rely on an office sleaze to message with a totally inappropriate message via Linkedin re new job...
— Julie (@SardineTin) January 29, 2014

Hoping new colleagues are not into practical jokes, and meant it when they said Fridays are dress down...
— Julie (@SardineTin) January 31, 2014

...then we have the early false sense of security and annoying smugness (pride comes before a fall, they say...):

I an on a train. I now feel like a proper working person again.
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 4, 2014

Every single pair of work trousers I own appears to suddenly be too big. Excuse to eat more cream cakes, or go shopping...?
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 6, 2014

Yeah. Jinxed it.

I may have confidently declared that we were "getting in a good routine" yesterday. Famous last words so sick child throws spanner...
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 11, 2014

Still, it's good to see I've still got my priorities right:

Baftas, Shmaftas. I'm more excited at the prospect of tonight's episode of #TheArchers
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 16, 2014

By week 3, I'm starting to definitely feel more at home in the new job:

Am the only person in my bit of the office today. There are no social norms holding me back from raiding the communal biscuit tin.
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 19, 2014

...and my colleagues' little foibles are as familiar as those of my family:

There's a bloke sat at the next desk CRUNCHING boiled sweets so loudly I've had to come and hide in the toilets. (cc @jenwen12) #misophonia
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 21, 2014

...whilst I soon find that work not only gets in the way of blogging, but also Twitter itself:

Twitter needs a 'Births, Marriages, Deaths' section for those of us who don't have time to tweet as often as we used to...
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 24, 2014

...and there are other annoyances to being back at work:

HMRC have just sent me my 4th tax code for 2014/15. I hope I get a pen or something with my 5th.
— Julie (@SardineTin) February 25, 2014

...such as those "novelty days" at my children's school:

This coming week fills me with dread. Whose idea was it to have Shrove Tuesday and World Book Day in one week, hmmm?
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 2, 2014

...and the odd commute. "L'Enfer, c'est les autres"(*).

Somebody on this train is eating Quavers and it is KILLING me.
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 4, 2014

The thing is, I normally like food. A lot. But I guess I wasn't really feeling it. Who knew the humble pancake could cause such strife?

F'ing pancakes
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 4, 2014

Daughters have been recreating the Crimean conflict tonight. With the part of Crimea played by a pancake pan.
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 4, 2014

Things then went from bad to worse:

Effing World Book Day. 😠
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 6, 2014

Dear colleagues; I promise I DID try and shower, but there's no bloody hot water.
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 6, 2014

I think it's fair to say today is not going well.
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 6, 2014

Do I really moan that much? I guess I do...

I swear Sainsbury's have changed the formulation of their toilet roll. "Super soft", my (ouchie) arse.
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 10, 2014

Hosiery of less than 10 denier might as well just be classified as "disposable".
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 11, 2014

Yep. Still doing the rubbish mother bit:

French day at school tomorrow. Kids want to go as Marie Curie, Simone de Beauvoir or Joan of Arc. Am compromising with a beret and stripes.
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 13, 2014

Have spent the evening at my first school disco in over 20 years. Was just as awkward and sweaty as I remembered it. But with a bar.
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 14, 2014

...and the rubbish housewife bit.

I reckon that missing plane is in the same place as my pillow cases. #BermudaTriangle
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 16, 2014

Not forgetting the rubbish working woman bit:

It's nice being in a building with more women than I've been used to, but I miss the days I could hide away in the ladies' toilets...
— Julie (@SardineTin) March 17, 2014

So, all in all, no real change. Life is busy, and generally good, although reliable hot water would make it even better.

_____________________

(*roughly translated as "Hell is other people", Jean-Paul Sartre)

Things I'm going to miss when back at work

So this is it, the day of reckoning. The last day of officially being unemployed, for yes, I do indeed start a new job on Monday. Having resigned myself to the fact that the recruitment process always takes longer than perhaps would be ideal, I envisaged having another couple of weeks before being in this position. Yet I am going from initial interview to first day in less than two weeks. Whilst this is obviously a Good Thing, it has left me a tad shell-shocked and panicked about getting all those things on my list done that I have been dragging out for the best part of four months...

It will also be the first time that I will be working properly "full time" since before having children, and I am certainly apprehensive about how the whole work-life balance will look. Here, therefore is the list of things I'm going to miss about going back to work...

1) The kids. Despite my regular cries of "IF YOU CARRY ON LIKE THAT I'M SENDING YOU TO YOUR GRANDPARENTS", I am quite fond of the little blighters. The truth is, however, that with both of them being at school and at various hobbies I probably won't see that much less of them anyway, so actually I am less worried about this than perhaps maternal guilt should dictate. But I've never been a fan of guilt of any sort anyway.

2) My burgeoning social life. I've probably made more "playground buddies" in the past four months than in the whole of the almost four years that my eldest has been at school. Whilst I expect I will always float on the peripheries a little bit, it has certainly been nice to not feel like a complete Billy-No-Mates at the school gates for a change. I've even "done coffee" on one or two occasions...

3) Walking. Forced exercise is anathema to me. The thought of the gym fills me with horror, and I've never seen the point in running when walking is perfectly acceptable. I do, however, love walking, and will miss the walks to and from school, and even my weekly walk to the job centre. I really noticed a change in my fitness levels even after not having done it for two weeks over the Christmas holidays.

4) Time for appointments and admin. No longer can I mooch around the local shops on a whim. Groceries will probably have to be ordered online again. Paperwork and tidying will take up evenings. Hair cuts will have to be done on Saturdays. Appointments with doctors/dentists/chiropractors etc will have to be carefully scheduled around working hours.

5) Time for Reading and Relaxation. And Twitter. And painting my nails. And farting about on the Internet...and just generally wasting time by myself.

Mostly however, I am excited. Excited by a new challenge, a chance to learn new things and meet new people. Oh, and excited by the opportunity to go shoe shopping. What does one wear in an office these days?!

Only Boring People Are Bored*

I always assumed that the only thing standing between me and a spotless home was a full-time job. It turns out that really, the only thing standing between me and a spotless house is...well...me. 

With the children at school all day, I should have plenty of time to whip the place into serious shape. A household of four people who aren't that great at picking up after themselves is never going to be a recipe for show-home like conditions, but it turns out, I actually don't really care that much. Not enough to spend the two to three hours a day that it would require to get it to that stage, at any rate, because quite frankly, domestic chores bore the hell out of me. 

It makes me wonder how things would have been different if I hadn't gone back to work after having children. Maybe I'd have found some meaningful hobbies to fill my time by now? Maybe I'd have become more active on the coffee morning scene? (Unlikely) Perhaps I'd have got stuck in volunteering with something? Maybe even started my own business from home?

I suppose I'll never know! However, I'm definitely past the stage of unemployment being a nice novelty and a bit of a rest, to finding myself thoroughly bored. 

Bored of not being mentally stimulated.

Bored of every day feeling the same.

Bored of having to watch every penny.

Bored of the housework. Definitely bored of the housework.

I need to get back to work, and fast.

Boredom by Alison on Flickr

(*Did anyone else's parents say that to them? Used to drive me crazy!)

Nothing Will Work Unless I Do*

It's been three weeks since that initial awkward conversation with my boss. Three weeks in which the actual work I have to do has pretty much dried up completely, and I find myself in what I can only describe as a strange state of limbo. There is still the minutest possibility that another internal job may come off, but as time passes and that possibility fades into the distance, I'm coming to terms with the fact that I may soon find myself unemployed.

The timing is actually rather fortuitous, meaning that at least I am unlikely to have to worry about childcare over the summer holidays. Brilliant, right? Finally loads of spare hours in the day to get around to tackling my paper mountain, or licking the house into some kind of acceptable shape. I even have time to blog more regularly. Um. However, despite my previous protestations, I'm more than aware of the fact that the life of a stay at home mum can't be mine on a permanent basis. The past couple of weeks have given me a very brief insight into how it might look. Apart from the odd day of unusual productivity decluttering the kids' toys, I've come to the conclusion that I'd just end up eating too many biscuits and spend too much time doing online shopping. So much for economising.

The need for money and mental stimulation therefore mean there is only one thing for it - I will have to find some kind of gainful employment. I can't deny that the prospect scares the hell out of me. I've worked out that my last "serious" interview was probably around 14 years ago. Realistically, much as I'd love to find something flexible, I fear my only real option would appear to be to go back to a full-time office-based role.

Or maybe it's time for a complete change of direction? Get off the treadmill, escape the rat race and start something of my own? The problem is what? I'm too much of a generalist to specialise in selling any of my services. My childhood dreams included an acting career (I fear I may have missed the boat on that one), writing a novel (not self-disciplined enough, even if I thought I had a talent for it, which I'm not sure I do), or owning a bookshop. And sadly headlines declaring the "end of the bookshop" appear all too common. Plus I don't really fancy working weekends. I fear my other interests of gin, cheese and interior design are already well covered in the marketplace...

The return to a cubicle farm beckons. Unless anyone has next week's lottery numbers?

Have some pretty flowers. Don't they instantly lift your spirits?

(*attributed to Maya Angelou - Nothing Will Work Unless You Do)

The Call

I've been waiting for the call for months. The only surprise has been that it has taken this long.

So when the Outlook invitation pops into my inbox, I hardly flinch. The subject line is vague. A "chat". We don't really do "chats". It can only mean one thing.

I dial in at the appropriate time. He's late, apologetic, flustered. I'm calm, collected. I know what's coming before he even has time to clear his throat. He launches into the usual platitudes. "Difficult business conditions...ongoing restructuring". I hear the words and inwardly I laugh. It feels funny being on the receiving end. I've uttered those words myself too many times. I recognise the awkward tone...it's apologetic, polite, but definitely wanting to have the conversation over with. Must follow due process. Must follow the script.

He quotes numbers. I'm still grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Don't worry", I say, "I totally understand". I do, you see. I'd be doing exactly the same in his position. There hasn't been enough work to go around for a while. I'm still smiling. If I keep smiling I can keep my tone upbeat. So funny.

"Call me if you want to chat about anything", he says, and we say goodbye.

It's only then that I burst into tears.

Hello, my name's Julie, and I'm a paperphobic.

“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”

― Albert Einstein

We have a clean desk policy at the company where I work. It's a high tech industry where protection of company confidential information is treated extremely seriously. Security come round on a regular basis and check whether paperwork or laptops etc are left out, or any drawers are unlocked, and note the names of offenders, who then have to go undergo the shame of a big sticky note on their desk and a trip to security to collect the property in question. Together with working in an environment where pretty much everything has been as paperless as possible for as long as I can remember, I'm therefore used to a clean and decluttered working environment.

I mention this because you probably would not believe it if you saw my home office. The problem is not work clutter, but personal untidiness. You see, my biggest Achilles heel is:

Paperwork.

I can run a multi-national department of 70-odd people. I can deal with multi-million-dollar issues needing resolution, I can deal with an email influx of tens per hour, but ask me whether to keep or bin an old piece of paper, and I'm completely lost.

I dread it more than anything else. Even thinking about it fills me with dread, and the knock of the postman can bring me out in a cold sweat as I glimpse more potential things needing to be dealt with and filed. I can just about cope with paying bills, but once the immediate urgency of that is completed the responding piece of paper floats around my office mocking me and my general uselessness.

I've tried to combat it with more paper, and more lists. I've printed checklists, I have organisers and I've bought box files. Yet still the paperwork mountain evades me.

This weekend, my husband declared enough was enough. For three hours he sifted through the piles of paper on my office floor - sifting, filing, shredding and even opening unopened statements from 2008. The pile has now gone, and a weight has been lifted, for which I will forever be eternally grateful to him.

Since then I've tried to deal with each piece of mail as it has come in- two days in and it's not looking too bad. I'm taking it a day at a time, but I'm still searching for my 12-step programme...

In praise of home working...I think.

There's probably been enough said about Marissa Meyer's decision to ban Yahoo employees from working from home...but the subject is one close to my heart and has been niggling away at me ever since I came across it.

Yes, I work from home. Originally a couple of days a week, but for the past year or so on pretty much a full-time basis. This coincided with both a change in role, and the redundancy of a number of former "work coffee buddies". Not one person I work with on a day to day basis is now based in the same country, let alone the same office as me. As long as I have a phone and a computer, it does not matter where I am when I want to talk to someone in Milan or Mumbai. I can relax at home, in comfort, without the stress of the commute, and still have time to do the school run. This way, my employer also squeezes a couple of extra hours out of me a week.

Sounds perfect, right? In many ways it is.

However, if I'm completely honest, it's the lack of familiar and friendly faces in my office any more that is the main thing that keeps me at home. Going into an office and no longer seeing people you know very quickly gets disheartening. Soon you end up going in less and less often, which means less contact with those who are still left, thus creating a vicious circle of "strangerdom".

Now, the thought of going into an office and effectively being a stranger fills me with dread. The thing is, if I look at it objectively, it probably is holding me back. I'm starting to feel more detached from my current employer, but the flexibility afforded by working from home is a big reason why I didn't look for another job a long time ago. Swings and roundabouts.

If I therefore look at Marissa Meyer's edict, I'm torn between being completely outraged that she could take away something that has a lot of benefits to individuals - especially working parents. However, deep down I secretly also understand her reasoning. Seeing colleagues face to face on a daily basis does help you share a special kind of camaraderie that you don't get over the phone, email or instant messaging. Yes, I miss that.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Because that's what we home workers do.

Fuelled by caffeine and conference calls

P.S. If you're reading this on a mobile device, and you'd like to comment, you might need to view the standard web version. Sorry, and thank you...

Something always gives

A strong part of the reasons why I went back to work after having children was that fundamentally I'm the kind of person that gets easily bored. I don't think anybody who has ever stayed at home with a newborn can deny that, while there can undoubtedly be extremely rewarding, there are also long periods of tedium involved. And, as we have previously established, I'm not really the kind of person that finds the whole baby group and coffee morning round an easy one to negotiate. I just thought it was nice to think about some other things for a while, and work seemed like a ready-made, easy way out.

I've also spent my entire career in a relatively fast-paced, high-tech, multi-national environment. Conference calls at odd times of the day, juggling the needs of the Egyptians vs the needs of the Austrians kind of seemed like second nature. I can therefore kid myself that children and childcare is therefore just another ball that I need to keep up in the air. I make lists for everything, and I probably couldn't function without putting absolutely everything into my Outlook calendar and relying on the little reminder windows that pop up to keep me on track. It helps that I have a reasonable memory that is forever ticking through its own mental lists too. It's not easy, but I'm masochistic enough to enjoy the variety and the challenge. 

Mostly, anyway. 

If all of that sounds too good to be true, then here comes the but. 

Doing a full day's work, making sure the kids have clean clothes, have done homework, have got Brownies uniform, making sure the bills are paid...etc etc... All of the things that are necessary purely just for us to function as a household come at a price; namely, that the house is a complete mess, and relies on other people coming to stay for it to be in a vaguely tidy/clean condition.

I've partly come to terms with the fact that my home will never be the showhome I envisage in my head. (Part of me holds on to the fact that it's a rebellion against the showhome-like qualities of my parents' home.) Dishes are destined to be sat on the side ready for the dishwasher to be emptied, clothes will be on chairs, toys not in their place. And don't get me started on the paperwork. Oh, God, the endless piles of paperwork waiting to be filed...

It doesn't have to be like this, I occasionally tell myself. It doesn't help that a good friend of mine manages to hold down a stressful job as a lawyer AND have a permanently immaculate house. (Although she only has one, apparently tidy, child. Grr.) Spurred on by her good example I occasionally go through bouts of manic tidying, or go out and buy another self-help book that promises eternal salvation:

Yeah. Guess what? Not read it yet. It's hidden under a pile of paperwork. 

The Gallery - week 89, Me Right Now

I've not done a Gallery post for a long time, for no obvious reason other than laziness, if I'm completely honest, and I thought it high time I made more of a structured effort with a bit of a prompt to get me blogging again.

Last Friday (27th Jan), just after 11am, I happened to catch a tweet about this week's prompt, and decided to take a look. Tara's instructions were simple:


Literally take a photo of whatever you're doing when you read this prompt.


So I did, and here it is:

At work - in my home office. Simple!

There's No Place Like Home

It's no secret that I have been lucky enough to travel a reasonable amount, mainly around Europe, but also (with the exception of South America and Australia) briefly touching the other continents.That's not to say that there aren't a great many places I have yet to visit that are on my "to do" list!

I've also been lucky enough to spend extended periods of time living in other countries in my childhood and early adulthood. I'm therefore no stranger to adapting to different cultures, although to be fair they have been mainly Western European!

Whenever I go anywhere, whether for business or for pleasure, I therefore naturally find myself wondering what it would be like to live in the particular country I am visiting. In my head I've lived in the US, done the expat lifestyle in Dubai, lived the good life in France, and even returned mentally to Germany and Finland. Whilst there have never been concrete opportunities, I am sure if at any point I had really wanted to, I could probably have found a chance to push for one of those locations over the past *cough* years.

I do often wonder what has stopped me from taking the plunge. There was always an excuse or other. I guess the truth is that in a two-career household neither of us felt strongly enough about it in order to warrant the inevitable disruption to the other partner's career it would have entailed. Then there are the little excuses that creep in; Dubai is too hot (true, and very valid), the US seemed too far away at the time, France has too many smokers (although the wine may balance that out), Finland is too cold and dark for half the year, I don't think I could cope with the formality of Germany any more etc etc.

When it all comes down to it, this funny little island we live in suits me. Don't get me wrong, I don't think the UK is perfect - far from it by all means. What I am trying to say is that I guess I have finally realised it is kind of perfect for me - probably more by a process of elimination than anything else.

Of course, now that there are children to throw into the equation, and they now both at school, there are different considerations to bear in mind. There's no doubt I'd love to give my children the same experiences I had, and the ease at which they would now earn a foreign language is almost too good an opportunity to pass up. However, I also remember the stress it caused me in my own childhood - the stress of starting a new school in a whole different country when you already have a grasp of the language is reasonable is bad enough... Whilst I know, deep down, that children are adaptable, maybe I'm just not brave enough to take that chance with my own. Finally, from a purely selfish point of view I have friends and family here. I have a support network - not something to be underestimated as a working parent, after all.

It never stops you wondering though, does it...

On Being the Old New Girl

I may have mentioned a while back that the company I work(ed) for was about to be taken over. For various reasons, this never happened at the end of last year, as originally planned, but instead happened at the beginning of last week.

I therefore now find myself in the rather strange situation of working for a new company without actually having changed jobs. Of course, the first working day of last week was a bank holiday in the UK, so really I have only been employed by NewCo for 4 working days.

In a lot of ways nothing much has changed - I still have the same team reporting to me, I still have the same manager etc. The changes are much more subtle. There's a whole new intranet to find my way around. To say the organisation structure is complicated is an understatement. I need to apply for a new corporate credit card. Expenses are handled different, and there's a fancy new employee discount scheme - all those small, seemingly insignificant things that end up taking up too much time and detracting from the business in hand.

Still, a change is as good as a rest as they say, and I'm looking forward to learning and discovering again.

I ♥ Me - Week 2

So, the theme of Notes' weekly meme is I ♥ Me Monday. It can't have failed to escape your notice that today is, in fact, Tuesday, and I am terribly late (sorry, Notes!). Still, I am hoping the "my dog ate my homework" excuse will suffice in this case...


This week, Notes has asked us to answer the following question: What Do You Want For You in 2011?


Ignoring the slightly facetious answers (an Aston Martin, a Mulberry Handbag, Robert Downey Jr...) this one did make me pause. You see, what I want is probably work-related for the first time in a long time. 


I'll admit that I've been lucky - things have fallen into my lap over the past few years without too much effort having been required on my part. I have somehow managed to be promoted twice despite having had two lengthy bouts of maternity leave and am now in a role that I feel more than comfortable with, and that has allowed me to find something vaguely resembling that elusive work-life balance that seems so hard to find. 


However, things are changing. My part of the company is due to be taken over by a much larger competitor sometime in the next couple of months. My role, once a full integration process has been completed, will be redundant. I would be lying if I did not say this was worrying, however, my overriding  sentiment is positive - there will be more opportunities with the new company, and for the first time in a while I can actually scent a real opportunity for change, which is more than necessary. I fear I have got stale and complacent, and (dare I say it) bored.


So, for 2011 I would like to feel stretched again intellectually, I'd like to get thrown out of my comfort zone and get a buzz out of working with new people and processes doing something completely different.


Wish me luck.

I Need to Learn To Say No

source

- The vomiting bug has entered our house. It has taken out the two smallest members of the household, and is bound to come looking for the adults some point soon.

- I'm washing and ironing like it's going out of fashion (see above)
- I'm trying to do a day job whilst spending 90% of my time being asked questions for "integration"  due to co. takeover
- I've just agreed to take on the departmental newsletter
- I have a tonne of blog memes I am probably never going to get around to doing (sorry to anyone that has tagged me)
- Still haven't worked out what to buy husband for his 40th and time is running out fast (any ideas for the ultra-fussy man who has everything?!)

To say life is a little hectic at the moment is an understatement. Half term holiday?! Ha.

Can We Ditch The Term "Working Mother", Please?

This post was written for the Working Mother's Carnival, hosted by Holly over at It's a Mummy's Life. Once the carnival is closed, I'll post the final link where you can also visit other entries. If you want to participate, post your contribution and then e-mail Holly the link by 15th October.

---

I am a working mother. No secret there. If I think about it logically, it describes what I spend most of my life doing. For 35 hours a week, I am contracted to serve my employer. Sometimes I even do a little more than that (what can I say, I'm dedicated). The rest of the week I spend with my children. You could even argue that being a mother is not a job, but a status, a fact - I am a mother 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, regardless of whether or not I am at work.

This post is not about the rights and wrongs, the pros and cons, the tos and fros of working vs not working when you are a mother. It is, however, about the terminology "working mother". Despite the fact that factually it describes me very well, the phrase itself riles me - for three main reaons. (I am disregarding the fact that it does not encompass all the other things I am/do on a regular basis. I don't even have a problem with labels per se; I acknowledge that they can be a useful shorthand.)

The first thing that bothers me is the inference that by labelling myself a working mother, I am somehow saying that women who are mothers but are not employed in the labour market do not "work". Do Stay At Home Mums (SAHMs) sit around in their pyjamas drinking coffee and watching daytime telly all day? Of course not! I would be the first to argue that being a SAHM can be much harder work than spending time in an office. So why is it automatically assumed that only paid employment is work?

Secondly, according to the latest statistics I could find (dating back to 2008), there is only a gap of 5 percentage points in terms of women with dependent children who work (68%) and women without children that work (73%). Working mothers are therefore a lot more common that the media would sometimes have us believe. Women have worked for centuries - it is not even a new phenomenon. Of course, I appreciate that this statistic does not adequately reflect the different types or hours of work done by different women. It does not, for example, show how many women are in full-time work, vs part-time work etc (the page linked does go into this, if you are interested). However, it does make me wonder; if the majority of mothers are working mothers, why do we therefore even need to specifically pinpoint this group? Does lumping everyone together in a group like this really help anyone?

Finally - how many men do you know that would immediately and without thinking class themselves as "working fathers"? Most men I know would not even consider it, even if they reconise that the label is factually correct. I think they would be more inclined to define themselves more purely by their paid professions. If I were to ask my husband what he was, for example, he would probably just class himself as an "engineer" or "project manager" first and foremost. This does not mean that he does not take his responsibilities to his children any less seriously than I do - it is simply how his DNA has been conditioned to think. Maybe if there was more talk of working fathers I would be happier with the term working mother. One thing that will be interesting to see is if this will change going forwards as more men stay at home to look after the children.

(As a very slight aside, I was intrigued to find that if I Google both the term "working mothers" and "working fathers" there were actually more results (18.6m) for working fathers vs those for working mothers (9.7m), which goes against my argument above. However, the nature of the results was subtly different- if you look at the results, very few of those on the first page for working fathers actually use the term working as an adjective, but more as a verb - e.g. "working with fathers".)

I know I have a tendency to over-analyse things. Maybe that is what I am doing here. When all is said and done, maybe being a working mother is what best defines me - after all, I haven't been able to come up with a viable alternative yet!

Whether you are you a working mum, or a SAHM - does the label bother you, or do you just accept the fact that it is a necessary shorthand?

Defence Mechanism

Recently I've been feeling off-balance, unsure, permanently on the back foot.

This feeling seems to have crept up on me slowly. The thing is, I know exactly what is causing it. I know exactly what I "should" be doing to tackle it head-on. Instead, I bury my head in the sand. I ignore it and hope it goes away. I have never been good at confrontations. I hate conflict. I procrastinate and let myself get distracted. The more I do this, the worse it gets. The problem grows and takes on a more sinister nature until it seems almost insurmountable. I freeze completely. I turn in on myself.

Attack is the best form of defence.

I just need to find a weapon.

Source: Sea Defences by ny156uk on Flickr

You Shall Go to the Mall!

What do you think of when you think of Dubai? Beaches?
Endless shopping malls? WAGs? Amazing skyscrapers (including the tallest building in the world, the Burj Khalifa), logic defying tourist attractions (skiing in 40 degree heat, anyone?)

I have now been there a total of 5 or 6 times over the last 18 months or so, each time for work purposes. Despite my best intentions, I have never managed to get round to taking any time off to really see much of the place (there goes that working mother guilt again), but thanks to various colleagues at least feel like I have managed to experience enough of the bars and restaurants that make up a lot of the vibrant nightlife. This time, I even managed to spend an evening at Dubai Mall, drooling at the Jimmy Choos and Manolo Blahniks, and putting into action a little part of my continued wardrobe workout (post on that one to follow, I think).

If I really wanted to, I think I could probably move out there tomorrow. Everyone who is "anyone" in my division currently seems to be relocating there. I have certainly contemplated it. It is hard not to be seduced by the sunshine and the vibrancy of the place.

I then have to remind myself that going somewhere for a week's work is in no way the same as living there full-time. The weather is pretty much unbearable for my pasty Northern European complexion for 6 months of the year. (We went out to a beach bar on Wednesday night, and when we left at 11.30pm it was still 38 degrees C.) My children would not be able to play outside. I would not be eating out in fancy restaurants, and I certainly would not be frequenting bars every night! What would my husband do? Most of those moving there so far have been men, with wives that either do not work, or seem to be able to give up their jobs easily. I can't see OH joining the expat wives club.

So, for now, I will enjoy my regular trips over there, and use the chance to occasionally pretend that my single, work hard, play hard days are not far behind me...

Off for More Sunshine!

Photo: Tom Oliver

Apologies if this blog has been a little "bitty" recently. Seem to be madly rushing without going anywhere.

Well, this Saturday (assuming the ash cloud doesn't creep back over Southern England) I am off on my quarterly work trip to Dubai.

I will try and post a blog or two with my impressions while I am out there if I get the chance, but realistically may not have the time, inclination or technical facilities to do so. In the meantime, marvel at the ridiculousness/wonder* (delete as applicable) of the Dubai skyline.

Whine or Wine - which is it for you?

I have had to do one of those presentations at work this week that I really dread, namely basically a marketing exercise telling everyone how fantastic my team and I are, in the hope that we all get to curry favour with the bosses. By "everyone" I mean the various new regional Directors that have taken over in the latest reorganisation. It has been scheduled for some time now, and rescheduled on several occasions, so it has been on my mind for a while. The thing is, I didn't mention it to my husband - until the point when I was leaving the house, when I said something like "wish me luck in my presentation, small matter of a career to justify".... and that was that, I escaped.

I was once told that one of the fundamental differences between an extrovert and an introvert is how they switch off at the end of the day. An extrovert likes nothing more than to dissect their problems - chat to a partner or a good friend, and really download and offload. An introvert on the other hand, likes to shut off and get into another space completely.

Even after knowing me for 15 years, the fact that I very, very rarely talk about my day is something that still perplexes my other half. My husband is a sharer - he loves to dissect every moment; what so-and-so said about such-and-such, why this widget won't work with that one. I, on the other hand, detest nothing more than talking about work. For me, the ideal way to unwind at the end of a long day is with a glass of wine and a good book (and to be honest, after I have dealt with the kids at the end of my day, work could not be further from my mind).

Even as a child, I was the same - there was nothing I dreaded more than that inevitable question from my mum: "how was your day? what did you get up to at school?" The strange thing is that, now that my eldest daughter has been at school since September, I find myself exhibiting exactly the same tendencies - wanting to know all about her day, asking her how it went, who she played with. Her standard response is always "don't remember". I understand from other parents that this is fairly par for the course, but it will be interesting to see if she will continue in this vein as she gets older.

Of course, since I have discovered blogging, I do now have a way of unloading a little - maybe it will make a virtual extrovert out of me yet...

How many times have you ruined someone's life recently?

I enjoy working. I have a reasonably responsible job in a large corporation that is kind enough to let me work relatively flexibly around the various demands of my children. I run a medium to large-ish department. I deal with a wide variety of people from literally all around the globe. Every now and then I even get to visit them in interesting places (although ironically I now very reluctantly do more of this than I did in my previous, childless existence, when I would have jumped at the chance). I have a lot of people that either directly, or indirectly work for me (yes, I have "layers" underneath me!) - some of whom I have never even met. However, the vast majority I have known for a long time - some since I first started straight out of university many moons ago.

At the risk of stating the obvious, the last couple of years have been not been an easy time economically, and the company I work for has not been immune to the global downturn. I have therefore become more adept than I ever could have wanted or imagined to be at making someone redundant. I had to do it again recently, so it is all rather fresh in my mind.

I have to confess that I have never personally been made redundant, so I cannot truly understand the feelings of someone sitting on the opposite side of the table. However, I have to give credit to all the people I have had to give the bad news to over the past few years that they have been gracious and professional about it at all times. That's not to say that they won't have gone home and screamed, shouted, cried, drunk themselves into a stupor etc, but they didn't start throwing things at me, for which I was eternally grateful. I certainly don't know if I would have taken the news as well.

Occasionally I hear what has happened to some of these former colleagues. The majority have quickly found other jobs in similar roles, for which I am thankful. For some, it has even proved a blessing, as they have worked out what they really want to do in life and have used the opportunity (and, I have to say, extremely generous redundancy package) to go in a completely different direction. However, at the back of my mind, there are always one or two that I still wonder about. Inevitably, these tend to be the people that don't stay in touch, that don't post status updates on "LinkedIn", that don't boast about they are fine now, thank you very much. I know of one colleague that, two years on, is still surviving from one temporary job to another. He has a wife and four children to support.

"Sorry" does not even come close.

It's at times like these that I really hate being the "boss".