I’ve just sent off ToddlerMonster’s ‘big school’ application.
It’s the last thing I will do with any coherent sense this year.
I didn’t consciously leave it until the dying monuments of the year before I hit send, but now I come to think about it, it’s fairly fitting to be sailing out of the year with a school place on the horizon. *Wishes teaching profession Bon chance*
The school-app thing has given me a little nudge to pause my shorthand exam revision and tap away to you for the very last time this year.
It’s an odd thing studying as a Muma; I have my first shorthand exam next week, and revision passages and exercises are taking up as much of my time as I can parentally justify.
So far this morning I have had several study breaks.
And Not to watch Neighbours like the good old uni days.
-I’ve continued my good work as toilet assistant.
-Created a sylvanian village, most notably developed a nursery extension.
-Ordered 500,000 paw patrol plates, napkins, cups, balloons and party bag alternatives in blind panic for The 4th Birthday next week.
-Prayed it will arrive in time.
-Pinned several paw patrol cakes that I don’t have a hope in hell of replicating.
Before journo-school broke up for Christmas we all quizzed our tutor on shorthand exam scenarios:
“what if someone sneezes and we miss a bit of the audio?”
“What if a police car goes by and the sirens drown out the passage we are taking down?”
But at no time did anyone ask, “What if 2 under 7’s streak through the classroom screeching “IT’S MINE, IT’S MINE, DON’T BITE ME”.
No one asked that.
And I can tell you, if that happens during the exam, then I go this.
My kids have me prepped.
An atomic bomb could go off and I’m fairly confident I will not take a blind bit of notice.
2017 has been totally bonkers and for once it’s been that way not just because I am keeper of small people.
I set off the year hoping beyond hope that I might get my writing published somewhere, anywhere.
Hoping that this might be the year I try to make a path parallel to parenting.
ToddlerMonster’s school application was looming and I wanted to set myself up for a life of writing after the full-on full-time parenting was somewhat assisted by the 9am-3pm world.
I get a bit giddy, you know, that excited pukey-pit of your stomach feeling, when I consider that I might actually pull that off.
It’s becoming more believable that one day I may just be paid to write.
And have a J O B.
Doing something that I don’t resent.
Doing something that I… kind of love.
Signing up to start my NCTJ Diploma in Journalism was a total leap of faith.
It feels quite mad to write this but as I sit here in the dying hours of 2017 I can say that I now regularly write for a newspaper, host a news show on the radio, and help out at a flipping massive radio station along side a truly inspirational journalist.
I honestly have to pinch myself.
(However, I am also still a terrible cook. I offered my husband a ‘fresh’ pizza from the freezer last week. I set fire to my kitchen last month, and continue to be unable to drive in heels. – We can’t tick all of the boxes can we now…)
Lidl’s ‘random’ aisle used to be the most unpredictable, exciting part of my week.
It’s surreal and I’ll be honest, the juggling act between wannabe-journo and Muma is incredibly tough.
The logistics of child care, alone, are mind blowing.
I had no idea what working parents were going through until now.
But 2017 has shown me that one thing’s for sure: It’s ok to be a parent AND go after a dream.
There’s room for both.
As long as you have an understanding nursery.
And fantastic family and friends.
God only knows what 2018 has in store:
I think I’m ready.
Hang on, I’m not sure…