Side Quest Extra #7 - I do kind of want it all, actually

The following post is a stream of consciousness from my exhausted, sleep-deprived brain. Sorry if it's a bit all over the place. I'm just going to let it come out the way it wants to.

It is the first of September, as I write this. My daughter turns eleven tomorrow. Eleven! A preteen. The summer holidays have gone, the nights are drawing in, and it's still somehow oppressively hot and sticky. I've got that empty-battery feeling of being done. I don't know how we've got here, but we've managed it, and I need a very long nap.

The summer holidays were weird this year. Partly because of the house move, but mostly just because I had a sudden and strong realisation: I want more than just this.

I'm trying to come to terms with this. Motherhood has been a strong driving force within me for years. I always knew I wanted kids, until I met Chris; then I knew I wanted his kids, and I wanted them fairly soon. I wanted them so badly that a false alarm pregnancy scare around a year into marriage left me devastated and empty. I knew we were too young, but I also knew something was missing. I felt like I was on hiatus. And then the kids arrived, and then I felt complete.

It sounds simple. I guess it is. We're lucky in a lot of respects. We both wanted kids, we both wanted them fairly young. Chris has always been a family man. He just wanted to settle down with me and bring kids into the world and love them. So many couples I know come into conflict because they love each other desperately but they're not on the same page when it comes to children. And so to have it all slot into place is a real privilege.

And for years I didn't want anything else. I was full and happy. My writing life happened, not just because I've been writing since I was six years old and it made sense, but because it fit around the kids. I could be there for them, always: for the sick days, for the school runs, for the school holidays. Flexibility in work was, in the pre-Covid years, even rarer than it is now. It all worked. My main priority was the kids. And I was happy with that.

To be clear, I am still happy for my main job to be mum. Some days, I think I would just retire and look after them and it would be easier. I wouldn't feel so torn all the time, you know? I wouldn't feel like I am constantly dividing myself, never fully present with them or with work. I am at my most confident when it's just me, taking the kids out for the day, backpack loaded with snacks, locked and ready to rock. (Double confidence points if I'm wearing cool trousers. Trousers bring something out in me, I don't know how to explain it.) I am at my most competent when I am with them. And, honestly, at my most peaceful.

But this year has been so fucking hard.

I hate even talking about this. It makes me feel so ungrateful. I shouldn't have to preface this by saying it but I'll do it because my anxiety is gnawing away at me: I love my kids so much. I love them more than I thought was humanly possible. They are the main characters in my life. My daughter is sassy and funny and clever and observant. She's emotionally intelligent, creative, and kind. My son is silly and hilarious and bursting with energy. He's sensitive and shy and thoughtful. I look at them sometimes and I'm like, holy shit! Look at them go! What excellent humans.

Right. We've got that done.

I've just been thinking about my mum. And my mother-in-law. And how the defining feature of their lives is that they served others, and served them well. Both left school very young to work, in order to support their parents and siblings. Both married and became the primary caregivers of their children. Both let their work be squished into the sidelines in order to be there for the kids. Both have put so much time and effort into their grandchildren. Both do all the cooking for their husbands. They're nurturers, providers. Strong women who have been through a lot of shit and who keep everything together somehow. That old-school motherhood is a difficult thing and it should be celebrated more; I think we forget sometimes. We're full of admiration for the women and men making names for themselves and we forget to celebrate the ones at home, doing the real and important work of making sure everybody's school forms are filled out and that even the fussiest eaters are getting enough protein and stuff.

I want to be like them in so many ways. I do. You know how everyone's mum (well, most people's mums) are just ... mumish? They can't sit still, they're always fretting that somebody might be thirsty or hungry or uncomfortable, they never seem to rest or relax properly. I am becoming that person, slowly. I know what I'll be like as a Nan. It'll be that. I'll be like them.

But their lives have involved so much sacrifice. And they genuinely don't know what to do now, at this stage in their lives. When they're not being useful they find it hard to just be. Because they've never just been. They've always been in service. Everything they do benefits someone else, somehow.

I could be that person. I could work part-time for the rest of my life and never really do anything exciting unless it's for the kids. I could lose myself in that service. And I'd probably be happy. I have that heart in me.

But I just want more. I want that life, and something else on top. I'm not just talking about picking up a new little hobby or going out with my friends for the night, either. I want more from my career. I want to push myself a bit more. And achieve what I think I am capable of.

Because honestly I never felt capable when I was younger. In any given situation I was the shit one in the room, the one in over her head. Somewhere in my teen years I slotted into this role and then I never learned how to leave it, never learned how to become something else. And since then, I've learned that I am capable of way more than I ever imagined. Sometimes when I take on something new I have to stop, take a deep breath, and say it out loud. I am capable. I don't need other people to hold my hand all the time. I can do it myself.

I just can't grow or progress my career with our childcare situation as it currently stands. This year my kids were off sick a lot. All the sick days fell to me, because it made sense: my job is the less important one, because my job doesn't involve calling in sick or inconveniencing people. But what ends up happening is that all of my 'progression' time is just swallowed up, somehow. The sick days and the admin and the life stuff. And then I am just stagnant, bumbling along and, sometimes, barely keeping my head above the water.

And the summer holidays. It's just so hard. My kids don't want to leave me. And my husband has to work. And so what I end up doing is squashing all my work around them. And our small amount of childcare fell through this year; it kind of ended in a small disaster and I am not keen to repeat that. The kids don't get that I'm working, when they're with me. They want stuff. They feel almost resentful that I have to go upstairs and write. And who can blame them? My home/work life is so blurred it confuses me, let alone them.

So we're here. I'm so tired. I'm so tired of trying to do everything at the same time. Next year I have to put them into paid childcare, at least a couple of days a week. Next year, we have to split the sick days more evenly. Next year, I need a clearer distinction between my work and my family.

Not just because the current situation isn't fair on everyone. But because I want it. I want to get into other publications. I want to go to more industry events. I want to enter more competitions and make more of a name for myself. I want to gain a wider social circle. I want those things, and that's okay. It's okay to have a family and adore them and still want your own stuff too. It's okay to do things slightly differently than your own parents. It's okay.

The day I plan to post this, my kids will go back to school. I know what will happen. I will drop them off, come home, shut my front door, and cry. It happens every year. Because the truth is, when they're not with me, I miss them. I miss them so much.

We've had some amazing moments this summer. The kids have been resourceful and creative. They've made some cool stuff. We took them to where me and Chris had our first date (which, later, became the place Chris would propose to me). We had lie-ins and cuddles and face paints randomly on a Tuesday because why not? Summer is sweet, and it was this year, even if it was intertwined with a shitload of stress. Everybody says 'the days are long but the years are short', and it is true. I don't believe we're starting another school year. I'm never quite ready for it.

But anyway. I'm going into September with a determination to be more selfish. What a strange thing to say. I will advocate for my needs and the needs of my own work; I will take myself a tiny bit more seriously. I will book those events and I will work hard to make them happen, even if they take me away from home sometimes. And I will love my kids the exact same amount that I do now: with my whole being, with my entire self.

That's it. I can't take anymore. Good lord, I'm tired. Thanks for reading this, if you still are: Side Quest Extra is supposed to be a little behind-the-scenes glimpse into my working life, and, well, this is it right now: muddly and confusing and a bit chaotic. My friend Paul recommended a new way of doing all my admin, so I'm going to try that next week, and I'll report back, in case anyone finds that interesting. But see you on Sunday anyway. <3