Winging It

After a period of uncertainty, a wobble and some time off working, last week I finally heard what was happening in my job. Namely that it wasn't happening. Unless divine intervention hands me a new contract, as of the end of June I will be made redundant.

It is both a relief and terrifying.

A relief because I will have the pressure of trying to do it all and have it all taken off.

A relief because I will be able to drop the mask of pretending it's all hunky-dory and of course I can do everything. In five minutes. Five minutes yesterday that is.

A relief because I will be able to feel more of a mummy rather than someone who says goodbye several times a week.

Terrifying because I haven't been with Wriggles 7 days a week since she was about 6 months old (illnesses notwithstanding).

Terrified because I am worried how I will be judged-yet another single parent reliant on the welfare state for a period of time.

Terrifying because I am scared I will not be up to the job.

Terrified because it feels like so far I have been winging it and it is just pure luck we have scraped through.

What if I can't entertain her all the time? What if she's bored? What if she misses going to the childminder and is in a grump with me? I can't provide a cat or a garden swing. What if when I have no escape I tip back into fighting demons every day? What if it is years before I can contribute financially again?

Part of me is really looking forward to some time with my little girl.She is growing up so fast and it makes me sad to loose out on her new discoveries, even for 24 hours a week. When I drop her off in mornings and she instantly goes to the toy box and waves me off it makes my heart ache. Whilst I am proud of her Independence and assurance, I miss the closeness and warmth of my little baby I carried everywhere. When we are at home, she is vehement in that even though she wants to do everything by herself, she wants me to be watching, hovering in the background to jump in and rescue her or praise her achievements. I am looking forward to doing that all the time, and am hoping without the stresses of work I can throw myself into it without distraction.

But part of me is worried and feels like a failure if I am not putting something in to the bank of my own doing. I know it's just a stereotype but it does worry me that I will just be chalked up by people and written off. I never ever envisaged that I would be in this situation. I feel at odds with myself-the idealist black-and-white view against the compassionate. The maternal urges against cold hard reason. 

Sometimes being a mother, and a single mother at that, is like having two voices in your head constantly arguing. Go to bed, voices. Please.