Today is the final day of the Easter holidays. Like many of you (I’m guessing), having managed the incredible feat of putting the children to bed, I am now curled up on the sofa, slurping cheap prosecco, whilst drooling over Harvey Specter from Suits. I am silently high-fiving myself, as should you: we’ve survived two, if not three(!!) weeks of keeping our children entertained and ourselves vaguely sane during the wettest Easter break ever known. Seriously, why did it have to rain so much? I never want to go on another ‘Puddle Hunt’ again – ever!
There is just one weekend and one tiny inset day separating us from the glorious summer term. We’re heading off to Berlin for the weekend, so I’m not even counting it. It will be our first trip away as a family of four – eek! Wish us luck – I am slightly anxious about the prospect of us all cosied up in the same room (in the same bed??) without the infamous Sleepyhead… but if we can get past that then it should be great.
Pre-children, Taylor and I would regularly head over to Europe on a mini-break. We loved to travel. I seem to recall a lot of drinking during our former travelling days; there was always laughter; we had a lot of fun. The sad truth is that since we’ve become parents, we probably don’t laugh as much. I really miss the belly laughs of before. The old me used to love a good giggle, smiling until my cheeks ached, being silly and care-free. Why did she disappear? Where did she go? Will she ever be found again?
I’m hopeful. She’s not gone altogether. Just hiding amongst dirty nappies, piles of laundry and gaudy, plastic bowls of uneaten dinner. I know I’m not alone. Talking to ‘mum-friends’, it’s clear that certain commonalities exist between so many of us. We rant about sleep (or lack of), husbands (or lack of) and chores (of which there seem to be far too many of!) Help! How did this end up being my life? I’m starting to sound like my mother.
So… when we get back from our trip and Oscar has returned to school, I am on a mission to change things up a gear and if you’ve been feeling in a bit of a mum-rut too, I would urge you to do the same. I’ve been thinking long and hard recently about who I want to be and who I realistically can be with all the mum responsibilities that have to be taken into account. I have been writing for years – snippets here and there in various sparkly, coloured notepads, scraps of ideas jotted down in my head – and it’s finally time for me to stop procrastinating and do something with them. Yikes! I’m just going to say it aloud: I’m going to write a children’s book and I’m going to get it published.
After a decade at the
chalkboard, whiteboard, interactive whiteboard, I have read my fair share of children’s fiction. Mostly truly amazing, some brilliant, others average and a few – well, dare I say poor? Perhaps it’s the prosecco talking now, but I really believe that I could do it. At the very least, I have to try. What example would I be setting to my own children, if I never even gave it a go?
If you’re the slightest bit intrigued, then this blog will trace my journey through the tricky world of parenting and the tricky world of publishing with the hope of me finding my missing identity at the end. I’d really appreciate your support and in turn aim to be supportive of you: parents with goals that may have been pushed to the sidelines, mums and dads who may have lost sight of their former selves on the way soft-play. (Seriously, soft-play on a rainy Easter Monday – what was I thinking?!)
So… if you’re all sitting comfortably, our story can begin… It’s a tale of tears and laughter… with a very happy ending (I hope!)