Posts Tagged ‘work’

 

Living up to expectations

Thursday, February 18th, 2010

I always believed my husband was shredding my work. He would come home to a tired wife and child. Child whimpers and he backs down. Child asks for something reasonable and his first response is no, child insists and he says yes because it isn’t worth fighting over … reinforcing the idea that a little performance might help his case.

I used to think this was a male vs. female thing until I stayed with a friend who works and whose husband stays home and looks after the kids – this could be many people I know at the moment since it seems to be a common trend right now – and realised that in certain ways the roles are truly reversed.

It is the parent who spends less time with the child who tends to back down as soon as the child whimpers … the parent who goes to work who doesn’t force the child to do what they are perfectly capable of doing. They want to feel needed so they do whatever they can to make up for the space they have left by not being there.

I have pushed my child to live up to my … yes, often unreasonable … expectations, and my husband comes home and shreds my work. In his position though, I’d probably do exactly the same thing.

Flexibility of my job

Thursday, December 10th, 2009

The problem with ‘working from home’ – i.e. having a ‘home office’ … which, let’s face it is only there to ground me into believing I can actually work from home – is that my work is not really respected as much as if I was at a ‘real’ office being watched over by a beady-eyed boss. If I phone my husband at work and he is busy with something, I get a curt response to my questions or need to converse … basically, I have to respect his space in the work forum and not bother him when he is meant to be spinning his hamster wheel. For me, however, it is impossible to set up any kind of routine at the ‘home office’ since when there is anything to do, besides the regular keeping the house stocked so no one starves, like getting workmen in, making calls, fetching stuff, buying hardware etc., I am expected to drop the relatively unimportant things that I am working on (relatively unimportant because it is, more often that not, unpaid work) and do what is required in my role as … as what?

So what is it you’re doing now?

Monday, July 20th, 2009

It’s happened. That face that I saw in the mirror three years ago, two years ago and even last year was a different face to the one I see today. I saw a mother on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I saw a person stuck in societal traps, and I have been punching my way out of that box for years. I am out. After years of self-doubt, self-flagellation and general self-loathing, I can today look in the mirror and see a different reflection.

I used to hate that question: ‘So what is it that you do?’ I used to stumble and stammer and make a total botch up, not knowing what exactly I did do … I was stuck in a kind of limbo, a time warp between lives or stages. Having a child in your 30s does lend itself to a small amount of confusion when all this happens and you automatically assume it is the proverbial mid-life crisis. I have grown up with a mother who has always tried to force me into the housewife box, a box that is both too small and too regular in shape to fit even my big toe … so it stung when people automatically made that assumption as soon as I gave birth (a lot like the people at my wedding who made the assumption that I would cease to work as soon as the nuptials were complete). I could have claimed to be on maternity leave but that would have prompted more forceful enquiries of, ‘So, what is it you do?’ i.e. what great job is this maternity leave sandwiched between.

After years of trying to find my mojo and getting myself into a tizz over not earning, not achieving, not contributing and making not the blindest bit of difference, I found my space and my place. I made a choice. I’m working on my second book and in-between writing days I do volunteer work in community schools. I suppose I am lucky that I did well for myself before having a baby, and my husband is able to cover the bills. But it is not an easy choice relinquishing power and accepting a dependant role. I have made a lifestyle choice for the whole family, limiting our earnings to a single income and I have to live with the consequences. But, paying or not, I have never enjoyed any job more than the ones I am doing now so that makes it a relatively easy choice after all.

Luck Chance Accident – exploring the meaning

Thursday, September 18th, 2008

Luck is like God. It isn’t real but we believe in it anyway. We pray to the god of chance. Waiting for things to happen albeit pure accident. Was he an accident or a stroke of luck? Do I write by chance? Am I lucky to have a craft? Give me Morgan Stanley’s share option rules to decipher. Hand me that clipboard. Prove there is a God. Show me probabilities and percentages. Accidental drifting across the sea. Across thresholds. Chance encounters. Destiny. Decided. There would be no love without luck, chance or accident. The need to believe is all-consuming … unless it is belief in oneself. Take God out of the equation: I have a better chance of believing in myself without her. Are there any accidents in life or do we make them in order to go forward? He pushed me out of my inertia. He is my luck. My little god. My noo-noo. My boy. My child.