… has definitely got in the way of blogging.
Major job changes.
Some family drama resulted in my dad being left seriously in the lurch, work-wise, so a few days a week have turned into something more full-time. I keep thinking that my 18-year-old self would be completely horrified by my current life situation – living in a small town; working for my dad; pregnant-but-not-a-homeowner. The reality of life is surprisingly different to how we expect.
When it comes to work, I’m finding myself actually a useful part of the team – doing things before being asked; identifying new products to put on the books, and they’re selling well. We’re figuring out the post-baby part, but there’s every possibility of horrifying teen-me even further and cutting work back down again.
I always thought that stay-at-home mums just sat around drinking tea and gossiping with their friends while leaving their kids to play in front of the TV. As I meet more of them, I encounter women who would go crazy with boredom if that’s all it was. I’m starting to get excited about the things my baby and I will do together. I apologise to any parents flinching at my continued comparison between dogs and kids, but the joy of seeing Meg grasp a concept is awesome; I can only imagine that when it’s your child, the joy is a thousandfold.
The big city and home ownership parts are ideas that I’ve outgrown, for now. The horribly sad story of Sian O’Callaghan’s death has really highlighted the positive aspects of living in a smaller community. Such horrors are so rare that they draw the attention of everyone; while people really came together to help find her. When someone passes away, nobody cares about the bricks and mortar they’d part-paid for; but the life they led, the people they’d touched and the experiences they’d had.
So, on with the weekend.