Work at Home Mum

PostingTime and Tide

Apologies for the lack of recent postings. I've only just realised it's been six days since I managed to blog. Six whole days. Shameful contrast to the high watermark of summer, when I set myself a target of daily postings.

I'd love to blame the downturn on Christmas and being too busy with shopping and partying to blog. But the truth is I haven't been too well and have hardly left the flat. I'm also finding I need to put any spare time into writing my book.

I've been busy reading around the subject of motherhood when not looking after Beanie and working on the book.

Regular readers of this blog might remember I'm a huge fan of Kate Mosse's Becoming a Mother. I liked it so much, I re-read it over the weekend, just to enjoy that feeling of companionship and support again.

I've also been reading Susan Faludi's Backlash - The Undeclared War Against Women, which has got me energised with anger. She dismisses the infertility scare stories of recent years as having little or no basis in fact, blaming them on widespread resentment at women's new-found freedom to work and decide when (or if) they will have children.

Reading Backlash reminded how fed up I am with some of the unflattering descriptions used for women who have babies after 35. Is it not about time the medical authorities thought up something less insulting than 'senile primigravida' to describe a first-time mother over 35?

I'm also losing patience with hearing healthy, blooming women in their late thirties and early forties described as 'older'.

When are we going to wake up to the fact that women in their thirties (and older) are in their prime? These are some of our most productive and creative years. Calling us 'old' is part of the same attempt to stigmatise any woman who shows some choosiness about when and how she has children that also leads to bogus infertility scares and 'man shortage' stories.

I don't think of myself as 'old' or even 'older' - and that's because, looked at in absolute terms, I'm not. I was older than the average first-time mum (29) when I had my daughter (at 38). But that doesn't qualify me for the zimmer frame and slippers quite yet.

Come to think of it, I don't even consider my mother, an energetic 67-year-old, to be  'old'. Though she has qualified for a bus pass that Beanie regularly filches from her handbag.

What do you think is a good substitute for 'old' or 'older' to describe new mums or mums-to-be over 35?

Posted 10 December 2007 12:17 | Number of comments: 10 | Comments

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PostingIt's all comparative

September07024_Small.JPG I'm working on the first chapter of Fashionably Late. This section of the book is about who makes the grade as an 'older' mum these days. Officially, any woman over thirty five is honoured with the title. But, unofficially, I suspect the goalposts have shifted somewhere north of around forty. The health professionals don't seem to get too worried these days until women are closer to forty five.

How we define ourselves depends not just on the medical definitions, of course, but also on personal circumstance. If a woman's mother and sisters had their babies before they were 28, she might consider herself 'old' to be having a child at only 34. If anybody reading this has been in that kind of situation, I'd love to hear from them and perhaps interview them.

More generally, I'm interested in what readers of this blog define as 'old' - and why - when it comes to having children. As I suggested above, some people base their ideas of 'old' on whether they're doing things later than their friends or family. I didn't think too much about my age (38) when I had Beanie, until I got to the post-natal meet-up and realised I was the oldest person in the room, barring the health visitor running the group. Other people go by the statistics for the national average (29 years old for first-time mums).

How do you define what it means to be an 'older' mum?

Please leave a comment or get in touch with me via email as I'm keen to know your views.

Two signed copies of the book go to every interviewee.

PS: I include this picture to prove that no mother, whatever her age, is ever too old to ride with her child on a flying teapot. Lacking in good sense or proper decorum, perhaps. But that, as they say, is another matter. You might be able to notice poor Beanie cowering in fear under my right arm.

Posted 22 October 2007 15:44 | Number of comments: 15 | Comments

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PostingClean-up operation

cleaner001_Small.JPGWe're thinking of hiring a cleaner. This could be a bigger decision than we realised.

Leafing through Yellow Pages this morning, I stumbled on one firm offering an unusual range of  services. Under the slogan: "Life Maid Easy offers you the chance to reclaim your life." This is what they offer: cleaning, ironing, window cleaning. So far, so normal.

And... wait for it: Life Style Management.

I've heard about powerful cleaning agents, but this is going too far. And you know the really sad thing? I was almost tempted to call these enterprising people and see what they could offer.

Posted 07 September 2007 12:54 | Number of comments: 13 | Comments

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PostingHome work - oh, and I'm a Rockin Blogger!

After six months of working from home, I'm finally realising there are ways to make it easier on myself and the rest of my family. It seems only polite to share these ideas on home-working with you all. So, here are my suggestions.

Please feel free to disagree or jump in with any ideas of your own.

1. If your budget can stretch to it, invest in a decent office chair.

Using a dining room chair for my work was threatening to cripple me. So I've just ordered a proper swivel chair with good back support. I couldn't stand up straight after some days hunched over the laptop. How I wish I'd done it sooner.

2. Don't use your ordinary home phone for work calls.

Safeguard your privacy. Get VOIP (voice-over internet protocol). Calls are cheaper. And you won't risk picking up the home phone thinking it's your mum or husband, only to find yourself talking to an important client, who will thrill to the accompanying shrieks from your small and attention-deprived child.

3. You might think you're working two days a week. Many of your contacts won't. Set boundaries - politely.

This is a tricky one. Tip 2 helps. Obviously, it's important to strike a balance, and remain flexible to maintain important relationships. After all, this is work. Unless I say "no" sometimes, my 'two-day' week could include every available crack of time, morning, noon and night.

4. Ensure you get some fresh air daily.

It's all too easy never to leave the flat, especially if my husband takes The Bean to nursery. A stroll round the corner to escape the citadel cheers me up no end. Coffee at the local deli/cafe on my own is a real treat.

5. Remember that office workers march to a different beat

How dare my husband get short with me when I've phoned up for a good long chat?

6. Make an effort to meet people

When even the postman is walking faster as you hove into view because you've spent so much time gabbing about weather/holidays/postal strike, it might be time to meet other work-at-homes for a quick coffee.

7. When you're cursing your solitude, remember all the things about office life that got you down

I'd better be discreet here.

8. If you're setting up on your own, give yourself time to get established

Don't expect instant miracles. Be patient. Suffice to say, I am not a patient person. I wish I were. I married someone patient, hoping it would rub off on me. So far it has not worked. I cannot ask for my money back. I cannot send him back now to the lovely vicar who married us. It's too late. The 'return-by' period has expired. I could not imagine living without him. You see, I need his patience.

9. Try to keep at least one day weekly completely work-free

Okay, it's hard to resist a sneaky daily look at that inbox. But at least one day a week of minimal work is refreshing.

10. Don't feel too bad about frequent tea breaks.

Think of all the time wasted in offices catching up with what colleagues did at the weekend. Or hawking round birthday cards. Not to mention "internal meetings". You probably get more concentrated stretches of work done at home.

11. Never buy biscuits

Self-explanatory, I should think. I didn't get this blog title by accident.

Other news:

Erica from Littlemummy has made me a Rockin' Blogger! Thanks, Erica. I'm delighted!

Rockin' Blogger

That means it's my turn to award the Rockin' Blogger to two other sites.

So, here goes... I'd like to choose Omega Mum from Three Kids No Job and Beta Mum from Keir Royale. They both write warm and witty blogs about their lives that I find quite addictive. Omega Mum, Beta Mum, over to you! Your turn to award two blogs you like this thumbs-up.

Erica, thanks also for setting up a UK Parents Blog Ring (details in the blogroll, right). I've already signed up and understand from Erica new members are welcome!

Posted 12 July 2007 22:40 | Number of comments: 32 | Comments

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PostingBaby police

Following my mid-week rant about acronyms polluting the world of mothering, one of my correspondents has gamely suggested I call myself Acromum. I'm flattered!

I could use the small remnants of my time not spent blogging, working or looking after The Bean, to fight acronyms wherever I see them, armed with nothing more than a hefty changing bag,  toddler reins, broccoli spears and some smelly old nappies.

That should bring people back to earth and get them to drop these silly titles like SAHM and WAHM.

The ultimate deterrant, of course, would be disemvowelling.

If I had an arch-enemy, perhaps someone from the acronym-rich military or medical professions, or even someone over at the Parenting Police HQ - Ofmum -  they could fight by wheeling out a copy of the Book of Acronyms that Ingenious Rose alerted me to.

At the sight of the dreaded volume, I would instantly wither into a pile of meaningless letters, spouting received wisdom set down by well-meaning but mostly childless bureacrats who equate life for a newborn in rural, war-torn Africa with arriving in a neurotic, middle-class family in the Edinburgh New Town.

Much of the advice on breastfeeding in the UK comes from global organisations concerned primarily with developing countries. Yet it gets applied across the board in developed, as well as poorer regions, even though the worst many of us have to contend with is a scrap over parking places in this city. Not exactly equivalent to civil war and the West Side Boys in Africa.

Though  talking of conflict, there's also the issue of differing parental opinions on the finer technicalities of parenting. For example, how best to warm a bottle - which can lead to vicious, internecine guerilla warfare.

 "Don't add the powder before you heat the water, I've told you a million times!"

"What difference does that make? You're undermining my parenting!"

 "You've got to add the powder afterwards. It's the microbes in the milk."

"Microbes? You're making this up. Oh, don't tell me you read it in one of your books."

Guess we forgot to be grateful there was no trip to a dank well involved. And took sterile water for granted.

Perhaps the Ofmum bureaucrats are right - and there's something to be said for one-size-fits-all parenting (oh dear, almost felt an acronym coming on there) - with baby police around the world marching to the same step.

Then again, important differences remain. At least in Africa the enemy isn't someone who's meant to be on your own side.

Posted 07 July 2007 11:41 | Number of comments: 10 | Comments

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PostingDisemvowelling

I'm not a girl who's easily scared of acronyms - but it would have been nice to have some warning before I became a mum that my life as a parent, especially a blogging parent, would be dominated by them. Take your pick - are you a Stay at Home Mum (SAHM), Work at Home Mum (WAHM), or just plain sahd?  We all have to be something, it seems.

No offence to my fellow blogger Stay at Home Dad, who's got a nice sense of humour and doesn't seem to take these things too seriously, but is this really how we're supposed to define ourselves as human beings?

It's almost enough to make me want to claim I'm a 'homemaker'. Another fellow blogger, Dooce, has a nice variation on what SAHM might stand for. I'm too inhibited to spell it out here.

Today I came across a new acronym - FTBCWM - for Full-Time By Choice Working Mother. Or EOE, for Embodiment of Evil, in certain circles. Fairly trips off the tongue, doesn't it?

I'm thinking of inventing my own title - PTBCAHWM. Part-Time by Choice at Home Working Mum. The hyphenation's a nightmare. But it fairly sums up my working day. And the world of the working mum is consonant-rich and vowel-poor, you see. My title could, alternatively, be a new transcription of a 5am seagull cry as the beast swoops on our rubbish bags.

Or it could stand for Poor in Time, Bewildered and Confused, At Home When Money permits. That could cover a lot of mothers, I reckon.

If you don't believe me about these titles then have a look over at Alpha Mummy, where a real old cat fight has broken out between stay at home mums and workers. The fights's got so nasty it's ended with one of the more vitriolic participants being disemvowelled - the first time I've ever come across this gruesome process outside medieval England. We were none of us overly endowed with vowels in this battle to start with.

It's not that I have a problem with acronyms in themselves. I mean, I fell in love with and married a paid-up geek. Don't laugh, but our courtship included word games based on car number plates we spotted as we strolled along. The Bean and I share our home with shelves of books with titles like XML Primer Plus, C# for Beginners, ASP.NET and XSLT.  They give me indigestion when I so much as look at them. Don't even get me started on the stash of computing books in the bathroom.

But I could never tell anyone who asked me what I do: "I am a WAHM. A Work at Home Mother." It'd be like being some tragic pop groupie from the 1980s, in denial that George Michael was gay, bouncing about in leg-warmers, ra-ra skirts and feathered earrings.

But when did all this nonsense about parenting types start? And why do we need these silly titles?

Maybe we invented the titles to give ourselves a sense of identity. Just like we coined the phrase 'parenting' for the stuff our own mothers used to do with no other job description besides 'mother'.

When The Bean arrived 15 months ago, people stopped asking me what I did for a living.

Instead, they started saying: "And what does your husband do?" As if The Bean's beaming presence at my side meant I was out of the job market for a while, and if they wanted to know about our financial status they'd need to check on her dad's earning power.

Maybe other women had the same experience, felt the same way, and so dreamt up these titles to give themselves more status.

I don't know what the people who inquired about husband's job were hoping for, but when I told them he was in IT, their faces generally went blank and they'd change the subject. It was sort of a relief. I don't have much IT small talk. Obviously they didn't either. Maybe I should have said: "He's a Mobster dad. Come on, you know, M-O-B. Mainly Office Bound." Or MOB for Man Overboard. Now that would have been a bit more accurate for the crazy early months after The Bean arrived.

Posted 04 July 2007 21:06 | Number of comments: 28 | Comments

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