I've come across a great site called Shedworking
that could have the perfect solution for us work-at-home-mums - or
WAHMS, in proper blogosphere parlance. It features lots of beautiful
sheds, some of which you could site in the bottom of the garden and use
as an office.
Apparently the shed's growing in
popularity as a thinking and working space, and it could work a treat
for working mums - just think, no more working next to damp laundry,
our very own space free of husband's and child's discarded socks,
half-eaten rice cakes and obscured toys that threaten to cripple.
I have to confess I've been a bit out of touch with the world of sheds.
They've gone all designer and beautiful since I last knew anything
about them. Now they look more deluxe than some of the wooden houses on
Grand Designs.I think Kevin McCloud would like them.
There's only one hitch to my plan. We live in a second-floor city
centre flat. And while I'm thinking about applying for an allotment
there's a current three-year waiting list. Another reason, perhaps, to join that well-trod path to the suburbs.
An article on the excellent News for Parents
site reports that an American writer has stirred up controversy with a
book arguing that mothers who don't work could be risking their
financial security, as well as their happiness.
In The Feminine Mistake,
Vanity Fair journalist Leslie Bennetts warns stay-at-home mums that
their decision to give up economic self-sufficiency and rely on their
partner could have disastrous consequences.
The book's title's an ironic nod to fellow American writer Betty Friedan's 1963 book The Feminine Mystique,
the groundbreaking work credited with launching the feminist movement.
The book attacked the idea a husband and children were all a woman
needed for fulfillment.
The latest book's stirred up a
hornet's nest in the US, where according to poor Bennetts, stay-at-home
mums are "burning up the blogosphere denouncing me". Last time I
checked there were no fewer than 68 heated reviews of the book on
Amazon alone, most of them huffy and defensive, all defending the
writer's personal choices on working or not working.
Bennetts,
herself a working mum, insists she only wants to alert women to dangers
in giving up work to rely on a partner's income, like divorce, or a
husband losing his job. My fellow blogger Omega Mum over at 3kidsnojob
can tell you all about the latter scenario in her entertaining account
of what happens when a husband loses his job, in their case through no
fault of his own.
Bennetts also says that women who take
career breaks planning to get back to work once the kids are ready
should know they will take a huge salary hit - and might not get back
to the same level at all. And there's also the sense of self-worth that
women can gain outside the home. Plus pension entitlement. I'll see
what she says about part-time work-at-home mums, and let you know about
that.
The report was mostly manna to my web-weary eyes after a
sorry day filling up the depleted Mother at Large household coffers.
But why do I need a US author I've never even met to validate my
parenting choices? Why do I need to read this to feel okay about how I
arrange my life? Am I the only mother who needs approval from a book
I've not yet read for choosing to work? I'd like to see a time when
women can make career decisions without reference to a battery of
parenting experts. Then again, maybe most women already do.
Angst Childcare Dilemmas Home working Nursery Work Work vs mothering Parenting gurus
Only a month after Patricia Hewitt, the Health Secretary, outlined
plans to guarantee expectant mothers a "full range of birthing choices"
by 2009 it seems the reality is that some women might be lucky if they
get a qualified midwife or doctor to deliver their baby.
A report for the Department of Health has revealed that NHS
trusts using maternity support workers to do the work of trained
midwives could be putting the safety of mothers and babies at risk.
The study found that several trusts are converting midwife positions
into posts for lesser-qualified maternity support workers. The news has
clearly got medical bigwigs worried - it's prompted Christine Beasley,
the Chief Nursing Officer, to remind all trusts it's a legal
requirement for a registered midwife or doctor to deliver every baby.
The idea of using maternity support workers was that they would free
midwives up to do the jobs that only they are trained to do, (it takes
three years to train as a midwife) but it seems that in the
hard-pressed NHS they've taken a good idea too far, with these workers
assuming responsibility for tasks they're not qualified to do.
Personally, I have huge admiration for maternity support workers - they
were the women who got me through long, sleepless nights in hospital as
I struggled with breastfeeding, propped me up when I fainted in the
shower after giving birth, and admired my daughter like she was the first newborn they'd
seen in a year. Despite their long hours and lousy pay they were
endlessly good-natured and kind.
But still... it's not my idea of a "birthing choice" to do without a midwife or doctor while giving birth, sorry Mrs Hewitt.
Read more at
The Royal College of Midwives
The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists
National Childbirth Trust
The NCT has lots of good information on birth options.
A new survey provides further proof, not that we should need it, that
we working mothers are not a bunch of sybaritic "have-it-alls" after
all. It proves what many of us probably knew all along: many, if not
most, mothers who work do so because their families need the money.
Research published by Scottish Widows says the cost of running a home
means that almost half the nation's households need more than one
breadwinner to maintain what it calls an "acceptable" standard of
living. In other words, most women don't have much choice about whether to work. And those are the households without kids.
What's worse, the firm says: "When it comes to those with dependent
children, the need for two incomes increases, with one in two
households relying on both partners working."
It notes: "Those with children
have, as would be expected, higher levels of debt on both loans and
credit cards than those without."
Apparently, the average household with two dependent children is
£106,600 in debt, a whopping £19,100 more than the average household
without children.
So if any mother reading this is feeling alone in having to return to work to help pay
the bills, or guilty about it, now you know you're in good company -
about half the rest of the country, in fact.
Now, I don't know what the survey is defining as an acceptable
lifestyle. My idea of a comfortable lifestyle is probably fairly modest
by the standards of somebody like Dulwich Mum, bless her, who might well have
different ideas on lifestyle, as those 4x4s and Dior handbags don't
come cheap.
But I'm guessing that when the survey says households need more than
one breadwinner to maintain a comfortable lifestyle, they're talking
fairly average, low-key aspirations involving one holiday a year,
maybe, a car, a few evenings out, decent threads for her, some
hi-tech gimmickry for the bloke, the odd weekend away, that sort
of thing. We're not talking ruthless ambition here, just funding a
reasonable lifestyle.
Reading this survey, which I first came across at Enterprise Nation, I couldn't understand how anyone could call a working
mother a "have-it-all" - unless they were referring to her levels of
debt.
You just can't win as a parent. It was my health visitor who explained the parenting paradox to me. If you take your child to ballet/football then you're labelled pushy, she explained. If you don't, you'll feel guilty for not encouraging them. Know the sort of thing I mean? Whatever you do, you can't win.
Fellow Edinburgh blogger Littlemummy did an amusing posting the other week on Socially Recognised Parenting Standards. Reading it made me realise we parents will never achieve parenting perfection, because no ordinary human could ever attain the standards we set ourselves.
I started thinking about the never-ending series of exacting rules and parenting commandments that all contradict and conflict with each other. So even if you manage by some feat of superhuman stamina to meet one of them, then you'll be breaking another at the same time. I suppose the only way round this is to concentrate on what we each think is right, and ignore other people's ideas, however well-meant.
These are a few thoughts on some of the main parenting paradoxes
Breastfeeding
Any young mum can tell you of the immense pressure to breastfeed a new baby. Not so many people talk about how only a few months later there's similar pressure to stop. In hospital after having my daughter my boobs became public property, staff were so keen for me to learn this womanly art. Hands came from everywhere to latch the baby on. Someone even told me to follow the "nose to nipple" mantra - a policy that was to cost my poor nipples untold anguish. Then, just about as soon as I got breastfeeding going smoothly, it seemed to be time to stop. No sooner had we got past the toe-curling agony stage of nipple guards and Lansinoh cream, than people were saying things like: "You've got to wonder who's benefitting from this - the mother or the baby."
Mother-infant bonding
Pick up any of the legions of parenting books available now and you'll read about the virtues of responsive attachment parenting, that involves "baby wearing", baby massage, skin-on-skin contact, and breastfeeding. The idea is these practices supposedly promote a strong bond between mother and infant. Fast forward only a few months later and it's all about fostering a healthy sense of individuality and self-assertion on the baby's part, with dark looks cast at clingy babies. How much is a good thing? When does a good thing turn into something bad? How do you get the balance right? Well, it seems you can't, because the goal posts are always moving.
Work vs parenting
This works a bit like this: you're not quite recognised as a proper human being or accorded any status if, as a mother, you don't do some form of paid work, but if on the other hand you do work then you must also express conflict, regret and guilt for doing so. Truly, no-win all round.
Any mother who loves going to work because they enjoy the banter, get a rest, earn lovely dosh to spend on nice things and can go to the loo alone never admits as much, but instead expresses stoical regret that her life has worked out this way, as if it happened outwith her control.
There's more on this theme over at The Bad Mothers' Club. Any thoughts on other parenting paradoxes?
Angst Breastfeeding Daughter Dilemmas Guilt Paradoxes Parenting gurus Work Work vs mothering
I have a dilemma. Two weeks ago I had a miscarriage, which has had two effects on me: 1) obsession with wanting another baby 2) terror of getting pregnant again.
How to reconcile these two instincts? They've both got an iron grip on me.
Terror of getting pregnant again has led me to:
Join Weightwatchers
Stop shaving my legs
Take up embroidery. It's not like chess, is it? Not the most alluring activity.
Watch back-to-back episodes of Friends on E4 every evening
Wear funny, bobbly cardigans from the back of the wardrobe
Cry when my husband casts an amorous look my way
Fantasize about my perfect non-pregnant summer holiday (free, by then, of bobbly woollen cardigan)
Wanting another baby has led to:
Purchase of ovulation kit
Purchase of pregnancy kit
Daily intake of folic acid supplements
Nerviness over unwashed salad/soft cheese/alcohol
Shameful jealousy on hearing of other people's pregnancies (especially anyone due the same time I would have been).
Heart-twisting sorrow at the sight of newborn babies
Persistent yet clearly academic interest in two-seater buggies.
Pain at sight of daughter playing on her own
Apparently a chain of London nurseries is promising guaranteed
happiness for children or giving parents their money back. After
children have been there six weeks it will measure their happiness
using a series of 'observational methods'.
It's a clever marketing wheeze to exploit parental guilt for leaving
their children in nurseries in the first place to go to work, although
why we should feel guilty for doing this has never been entirely clear
to me.
Anyway, it started me thinking about what we can expect from nurseries
and how to choose one. I'm no expert on any of this stuff, but these
are my thoughts.
Beware the sycophants
One nursery kept talking in its marketing material about "your VILP".
VILP? Very Important Little Person. Oh, for goodness' sake.
Watch staff when they're out and about in your area
I don't mean go all weird and spy on them! But I was really impressed
by staff from the nursery we eventually chose, because they came across
as professional and courteous in the street, whenever I bumped into
them.
Location, location, location
Ideally your nursery is near you, and en route to work
Visible, involved owner?
Ideally with long-term plans to be involved. Most nurseries do a good
job, but like any other business they've no doubt attracted their share
of charlatans.
Realistic, sane staff
It makes me nervous when people promise the earth, the moon and stars.
Check out what the inspectors think
The Care Commission has good nursery and pre-school reports available to anyone online that will tell you a lot.
Ask around
Find out its informal reputation from other parents
Spend time there
If they have a problem with you wanting to hang out there for a little while, that's worth knowing in itself.
Instinct
Is this a place you'd like to spend time yourself?
My daughter is teething and I am in crisis. Could she not have picked a
better time to grow new teeth? Unstoppable, they are erupting from her
swollen gums like jagged icebergs in films where baddies have tampered
with the earth's climate,
destroyed its natural balance and caused
chaos in the Arctic Circle. What little was left of my natural balance
has gone too, Titanic to the trauma of her teeth.
My daugher has a nursery
"key worker", a competent and kindly young
woman who looks about 23 and is childless. It was she who told me that
my daughter
must be teething, an idea that had not occurred to me. "That'll be her
off her food with her molars coming in," she informed me, as if it were
obvious. I nodded in agreement to pretend this was indeed obvious.
Four tiny teeth hovering at gum level have destroyed our domestic
tranquillity. At bed time
last night she rattled the bars of her cot, screaming and roaring like a caged
animal. Only an hour and a half and two spoons of Calpol later did we
settle her to sleep last night. Someone has recommended frozen celery
for teething babies to chew on. "But you have to mind out for the
stringy bits," she told me. Presumably in case they stick in her
sparkling new teeth.
My daughter and I do not much ressemble one another in many respects,
something my husband tries gallantly to pretend is not the case. I am
brunette and she is fair, like him. This is mostly a
blessing for her, especially as I have bad teeth that an orthodentist
once pronounced incurable. With that in mind, I am
not much comforted by my
husband's attempts to
console me about the domestic confusion. "Look," he told me. "Her
teeth are coming in at the same angle as yours."
After I had the misfortune to miscarry at 11 weeks, a nurse told me it
was a big mistake to tell anyone bar close family of my pregnancy
before the magic 12-week mark, after which the miscarriage rate drops
to just 1%. I don't agree with this, but would welcome other people's
views.
"Well, you'll know for next time, won't you," she said, not meeting my
eye as she ticked off boxes and noted my allergy to elastoplast. "It's
better not to tell anyone until you reach 12 weeks." Then she moved on
to quiz me on recreational drug use. "We have to ask nowadays, you
know," she told me, flicking her hair back self-consciously, crossing
the "no" box.
Encouraging women to hide their pregnancies seems to be part and parcel
of a tendency among the medical profession to be reluctant to
acknowledge the reality of pregnancy loss, to pretend that nothing's
happened, and so to deny women the much-needed right to grieve and
mourn their loss. The Miscarriage Association has done wonderful work towards changing this attitude, but my sense is we've all got a long way to go.
As I posted yesterday,
I've known medics show more compassion for an achey knee than for a
miscarriage. They're not necesssarily hard-hearted, but so many medics,
even the so-called "counsellors", are emotionally illiterate around
miscarriage.
They don't seem to have the vocabulary and etiquette at their disposal.
There are no well-worn cliches (well, ones that work, anyway) to fall
back on for them. No formulae for expressing sympathy. So instead we
get the Darwinian eugenics line that it's "all for the best". Women
deserve better than this.
Many doctors really seem to believe this deluded notion that repressing
feelings and events is going to make them disappear, that if we all
pretend miscarriage isn't a "proper" loss then it won't hurt and we can
avoid painful feelings. I know this is untrue. Then again, in
the hard-pressed NHS, it might be the reason for their stony denial is
that there isn't enough time or resources available to help women
miscarrying with the emotional side.
I was so excited about being pregnant, I couldn't help telling people.
And looking back, I still think I did the right thing, though the
memories are bittersweet. At least I had that joy and happiness, even
if it didn't last very long; it was real at the time. And if I hadn't
told anyone I was pregnant, I'd never have been able to reach out to
talk to people when I was in a crisis and needed some support. And how
many times do you have such good news in your life? It's natural to
want to share it.
Also, holding out till 12 weeks isn't going to keep a pregnancy secret.
People often don't need to be told of a pregnancy to know it's
happening. They can see an expanding tummy, the careful way a pregnant
woman carries herself. They wonder why a friend's suddenly too tired to
go out in the evening, or has overnight become a fussy eater obsessed
with pasteurization and avoiding soft cheeses who waits for the Green
Man every time she crosses the road.
Of course, I'm generalising here, not all medics are stony-hearted
Victorians. One person from our local health centre in particular has
been extremely kind , came round to see us for an hour, really
acknowledged the pain my husband and I were experiencing, spent lots of
time listening, didn't try to invalidate our feelings, didn't dismiss
our loss with a brusque "Oh, it's nature's way". We need more
like her.
To find out more please visit The Miscarriage Association's site.
One of the hardest things about miscarriage is that so many people,
however kindly and well-meaning, inadvertently say the wrong thing in
an attempt to console, compounding the sense of loss and failure one
feels.
I have to say that I've found certain medical staff, whom you'd think
would get a few pointers on this sort of thing at med school, among the
worst culprits. Some (not all) have a bracing, "Buck up, gel," Darwinian survival-of-the-fittest attitude I thought disappeared with Margaret Thatcher and padded shoulders.
Male medics are generally the worst. They seem to have a eugenics
philosophy that miscarriage is nature's way of keeping the population
healthy and the burden on the NHS down - not really a great comfort,
I'm afraid. If you heard people talking like this about babies that
died after, not before, birth, you'd be thinking Third Reich and Adolf Hitler.
At the other end of the scale, other mothers have been amazingly
supportive and thoughtful, prepared to listen to me rant, hugging me as
I wept, proferring biscuits, books and food and generally astonishing
me with their warmth and kindness.
The taboos surrounding miscarriage don't help very much. It's a bit
like childbirth - you're only admitted to the magic circle after you've
been through the mill. People don't talk about it that much to the
uninitiated, perhaps because, again like childbirth, it's
excruciatingly painful.
There's no exact formula to follow in expressing sympathy, and it's
awful to see people floundering, wanting to help but uncertain what to
say.
The best place I've found for advice is the Miscarriage Association,
which has some helpful guidelines and offers all kinds of help and
support. I'm indebted to the association for some of the following
suggestions.
What not to say
"It's nature's way of getting rid of something" Nature, you are a cruel bitch. I don't want to be reminded that life is random and cruel.
"Don't worry, you can have another one" I felt terrible reading
this, when I remembered saying this to someone else suffering a
miscarriage. In my defence, I meant well, I just didn't know any better
at the time. I realise now it comes across as crass and insensitive.
"It's for the best" What? That my husband and I are wracked by
pain and loss? That we've lost something so precious to us? That our
dreams are in tatters?
"We'll see you at your next ante-natal booking" - my GP. Does he
not understand that embarking on another pregnancy is going to require
quite a lot of courage? The last thing I feel like doing is risking a
repeat of the last few weeks. Also, you can't just replace one baby
with another, they are unique and individual, a point that seemed lost
on my doctor.
"It's one of those things" - no, it's not, not to me, anyway. It's not routine or banal to me, however much anyone else tries to trivialise it.
"Don't worry about it. Your fertility is proven." Not the message I'm taking away from the past few weeks. I feel my treacherous body's let me down.
"It might be your age." Oh, so I'm bereft and over the hill, with
a higher possibility of this happening again to me than a younger
woman. Is that meant to make me feel better, or push me back under the
duvet?
"It's terribly common." So is death, and nobody tries to minimise
that, do they. Nobody says, "Oh, you don't have a right to grieve for
your loss, because we all suffer loss, and will all eventually die, so
cheer up and stop moping."
"There was probably something wrong with it" Not in my dreams, there wasn't. To me that baby was perfect. And I don't want anybody dissing him or her.
What to say
"I'm so very sorry you've lost your baby"
"This must be dreadful for you both"
"I don't know what to say to you..."
"I can't imagine how you must be feeling"
A hug is good as well.
The Miscarriage Association
says: "Flowers can often say what is needed and a card should include
both partners' names. Let them know you will be there for them to talk
to; don't be embarrassed to share their grief."
It also suggests that as time passes people ask a couple "How is it
going now?" or "How are you feeling?" It counsels that listening
is the most important thing people can do to help. "The couple are
hurting - some women, especially, may need to talk about their
experience and feelings over and over again before they can even begin
to heal. Talking will help them both come to terms with what has
happened..... The loss never truly goes away - the couple just learn to
deal with it in time."
Apparently if the typical stay-at-home mother were paid for her work, she'd earn the annual equivalent of £70,000, at least according to a set of so-called "compensation experts"
based in the US. Unfortunately, the survey doesn't make clear who's
going to fork out the moolah for all our hard work. Government?
Husband? Children? Will our kids add this to their student loans? But
still, it's nice to know we have some earning power left, even if it is
mostly theoretical. I first read about this at Manic Mama.
My main objection to this survey, produced by Salary.com,
is that I think they've missed quite a few important activities from
their list of maternal roles, which falls far short of covering
the full job spec. So I've listed a few additional roles they might
want to consider next time they're doing the survey.
This is their list of jobs making up the £70,000 salary: 1. Housekeeper 2. Cook 3. Psychologist 4. Day care centre teacher 5. Laundry machine operator 6. Van driver 7. Facilities manager 8. Janitor 9. Computer operator 10. Chief executive officer (though try telling that one to Dad).
And
here are the ones I think they missed. Apologies for some of them being
so medieval. Please let me know your thoughts on any others that should
be on the list.
1. Nightwatchperson Okay, gone is the lantern or candle of yesteryear, replaced by more up-to-date equivalents, like the Tomy baby monitor.
And it's more dressing gown than big caped cloak and boots. But there's
still the same lonely, cold pacing around after midnight, to check that
all's well, investigating cries in the night. And what about some
extra money for unsociable hours, I'd like to know?
2. Dancer/Singer Before
having my daughter I considered myself a fairly shy and inhibited
person, except when drunk. Now I never drink but will sing, dance
and cavort almost anywhere if I reckon there's a chance it'll make my
daughter stop crying. "Old McDonald had a farm, ey-ay-ey-ay-oh!!!"
3. PR Officer "You'll
never guess what our beautiful daughter did at nursery today! She
pulled herself up to standing using just a shoebox for balance!" I
almost have to stop myself from issuing a press release. And unlike
many esteemed PRs, I actually, really, truly believe in how
marvellous this all is....
4. Health and Safety Officer Detaching
Mr Bear's pink nightcap, lest my daughter swallow it, nagging
long-suffering husband to nail bookshelves to the wall, covering
sockets, hiding toilet cleaner, keeping daughter away from
dishwasher and oven, begging kind neighbours not to paint their front
door while we're around...
5. Journalist I've filled notebooks with detailed accounts of my daughter's exploits that I plan to keep for posterity.
6.
Nutritionist Poor performance appraisal here. People brandish Annabel Karmel
books at me all the time, and I do my best,
but follow her recipes in vain. Actually, I spend ages
agonising over my daughter's food intake, still currently limited to
apple puree, porridge and bread sticks, because I know it can't be that
healthy. Her dad persuaded her tonight to add banana,
raspberries and raisins to the list, which she did
grudgingly. Anything I cook is a big no-no. Last week I had my
head in my hands at suppertime, crying, I felt such a failure for
cooking up this food she instantly rejects. She throws it at me, or on
the floor.
7. Speech therapist Daughter: "Haahlaahla"
Me: "That's brilliant! Let's say it again." Daughter: "Laaaaaaa" Abrupt
stop. Me: "Look, the little monkey in the book is saying 'Hug'.
Isn't that clever? Let's try and say 'Huuuuuuuug'." I could go on.
8. Stylist It's
not as easy as it looks to achieve that casually thrown together
boho-chic look for the under-twos. Especially when the under-two
in question is determined to shed socks, shoes and cardi wherever she
can, before regurgitating Annabel's rejected gloop onto her top.
9. Entertainments Officer Playgroup,
nursery, "playdates" - urgh, terrible expression, park. It all takes
organisation, you know, even if the babies and toddlers mostly ignore
one another at these various social events, except to "borrow" each
other's toys.
10. Nurse Bathing gunky eyes in salt water, kissing scratches better, clearing up sick, administering Calpol.
Oh, I forgot, nurses are like stay-at-home mothers, another largely
disempowered social group, being (mainly) female carers on a low wage.
Daughter Food Husband Language Nursery Play Playgroup Safety Work
It's been a grim six days, just how grim I realised only yesterday,
when I recognised the unfamiliar physical sensation spreading across my
stomach as laughter, an experience that's been notable by its complete
absence from my life since I had some bad news last Friday. As usual,
it was only as things started to get better, well, slightly, at least,
that I got an inkling of how awful they've been.
Yesterday my husband, daughter and I were all waving at ourselves in a
big mirror. Lest you think we're a bunch of self-obsessed narcissists,
(well, we are, but we try not to indulge it) let me briefly explain:
like many babies, my daughter loves to wave at her glassy, unreachable
self in the mirror. She even, once, when very little, in what looks
destined to be a stock family anecdote, crawled over to a mirror and
tried to give herself a big kiss.
So we were in front of the mirror, my husband with his arm round me, my daughter in my arms, helping her practise waving.
"Here, stand in front of me," he told me, before assuming a stern,
wooden demeanour. My head slotted in under his chin (he's much taller
than me). Our daughter, snug in my arms, despite giggling madly,
consented to tuck her head underneath mine. We made a straight vertical
line of
three heads.
"There we are," he told me proudly. "Our very own totem pole."
In my posting yesterday on the drawbacks to being a Work at Home Mum, or WAHM, I promised another missive today on the joys of a life spent fettered to a keyboard in the spare bedroom/playroom/study, while pretending to be a carefree "have-it-all" mum, with perfect work/life balance.
Now today's come around and I regret to have to say I can hardly think of any benefits to being a WAHM. But having scratched what's left of my braincells after a year's breastfeeding, I've managed to think of a few upsides.
No colleagues
At first this was a plus and I enjoyed my own company. Now I'm a seasoned WAHM and idealise any office where I've ever worked, however poisonous the politics were, remembering only the cheerful banter, not the nastier sides.
Flexibility in hours
Easier to knock off work early on a sunny day when I fancy taking my daughter to the park. When she was sent home from nursery with a sticky eye it was easy for me to walk over there and pick her up. Major plus for parents of young children. Some mornings I take her in to nursery closer to lunchtime, and then pick her up before teatime.
Master and commander (sort of)
I feel more in control of my own destiny, working for myself, and enjoy the freedom it brings. I can explore ideas and projects that interest me, without checking in with anyone else first.
Fitting work in around children
If things have gone haywire during the day, with our daughter sick at home or similar, I can make up the lost hours in the evening here at home.
Commuting time
For all my moaning about lack of company in the working day, I never enjoyed being shoe-horned into the London Tube every morning on the way to work, squashed in with dozens of other people. Even I, moaner that I am, have to admit it's not much of a trek from bedroom to spare room.
Ability to work from anywhere with broadband connection
Well, theoretically, although it's strange how so much of work still comes down to talking with real, live human beings, even now. But being self-employed and working from home meant I was able to escape London two years ago to come back to Edinburgh. We're now debating a possible next move to France. If my husband didn't have such good IT skills, I doubt I'd be so sanguine on this point.
Getting more done at home/fewer interruptions?
Arguable point. A friend has a theory that people get more done working from home than they would in offices, because so much time there is taken up with meetings. Hah - but what about tea breaks?
Climbing the laundry mountain
Taking little breaks to work on the laundry leaves me still feeling quite smug and virtuous afterwards, almost as if I'd stayed at my desk and done the work I was meant to be doing, instead of frippering away the minutes on anything I could manage to justify to myself.
Some weeks you can take on more work, others less
When K was unwell a few weeks ago and she couldn't go to nursery, I was able to rearrange my work to look after her.
Breastfeeding Daughter Husband Nursery Pregnancy Work Home working
Much as I hate to use this dreadful terminology, I joined the ranks of 'WAHMs', or 'Work at Home Mums', when Katie reached ten months. Before that I was a full-time 'SAHM' (Stay at Home Mum), though I didn't even know it at the time - it's only since I got back to work and had a chance to waste time browsing the net I found out all these new terms. The first six months looking after Katie I didn't miss work at all. Then my friends starting going back to work, one by one, and I got lonely.
Often when I'm talking to people about my work (journalism), they say something encouraging about how it must be easy to do that from home, combining it with looking after the baby. Well, it's not.
In my experience, the reality is that homeworking is really only for people with iron self-discipline, who are motivated and well-organised and aware of the drawbacks as well as the benefits. I am not one of those people.
Listed below are some of the things to bear in mind if you're thinking of becoming a work-at-home-parent. Most are based on personal experience, some from talking with other parents who live, work, eat and sleep in the same small flat.
Today I've written about some of the disadvantages to being a 'WAHM'.
It's not all doom and gloom. There are very real upsides to working this way. Please visit the site tomorrow, to read about the benefits to young parents of working this way.
DRAWBACKS TO BEING A 'WAHM'
1. Don't be deceived into thinking you'll spend more time with your children this way.
You won't. You still have to organise proper childcare for them. Anything else, and you're shortchanging yourself, your clients and them.
2. Home-based childcare will make it impossible to focus on your work
If you choose home-based childcare (for example Granny or childminder coming to your home), you'll find it hard to knuckle down while your children are playing next door.
3. Sleepy head. Just had lunch? Feeling like a little nap?
I'll put my head down for ten minutes. Oops. The afternoon just slid away again. All those hours gone, taken up with what was meant to be a short snooze. And no work to show for it at the end.
4. You may think you're only working two days, but will your clients and contacts?
Once, an all-important contact I was chasing like mad at the start of the week called back unexpectedly a few days later at the nadir, nay, the very trough of my day - Katie's supper-time. Hard-nosed PRs will call any time of day or night if they think there's a plug in it for a client.
6. You get landed with most of the housework
I'm really lucky in that my husband more than pulls his weight around the house. But being at home all day, I still end up loading, unloading dishwashers, vacuuming, cleaning away dishes, wiping worktops, and doing the endless laundry. As soon as I've done it, it all needs doing again. And it's so very, very dull.
7. Lack of company
It's lonely, being at home on my own all day. Chatting to the postman and the old lady two doors down doesn't fill the gap. Even my husband starts winding up phone conversations after ten or 15 minutes. It's why I've turned to blogging. You start to fall behind professionally, as well, if you're not in offices where you can keep up with latest ways of doing things.
8. You've got to have real self-discipline to get through the work
Otherwise the lure of the biscuit tin will get me every time. I falter and stumble, but have to keep things together because I need the work.
9. I can't appreciate my home anymore, it's also my place of work
I spend too much time here. I notice every piece of dirt, every crumb. I need to go on holiday before I can enjoy where I live again. Home's stopped being a retreat.
10. It's hard to draw a line under the end of each day.
Is it obsessive-compulsive to check emails at midnight?
Daughter Food Granny Home Husband Play Pregnancy Work Home working
As I mentioned in an earlier posting, apparently "have-it-all" mums are shunning nurseries
that could damage their children's development and staying home to look
after their kids. Ideally, of course, some newspapers would rather we
women spent our entire reproductive
years pregnant and/or barefoot in the kitchen.
Given we live in a less-than-ideal world, in which many of us do some
sort of balancing act between work and family, while trying our utmost
to do the best for our children, I've decided to write some more about
the childcare options available to working mums, or at least my
personal experience of them.
Today, Granny to the rescue.
Granny often looks
after my daughter one or two days a week while I work, sometimes at
home, other times in an office. The arrangement generally works well
for all concerned, with big benefits all round. My daughter also goes
to nursery twice weekly.
Things to know about childcare from Granny
1. Parenting takes stamina - lots of it - and grandparents tire easily
Granny would never admit this, but she is shattered by the
end of a day chasing after her beloved grandaughter. I only found out
how bad it was when I rang her one evening around 8.30pm after she'd
gone home from a day looking after K, only for my father to tell me
she'd gone to bed "early". I felt terrible.
2. Your child can do NO wrong in Granny's eyes
My daughter has filched Granny's OAP bus pass while rifling through
her handbag, somehow lost her mobile, and scrunched up precious family
photos Granny carries everywhere in her Sudoko book. Does Granny care?
3. Seeing the bond develop between Granny and K - heart-warming
K kicks her legs with delight when she sees Granny coming up the
stairs to see her, while Granny's had a new lease of life since K
arrived 13 months ago. They get on extremely well and it's been one of
the best things about having a child, seeing the bond between them
strengthen and grow.
4. K's biscuit consumption increases while Granny is around. So does mine.
Granny believes a little treat now and then never hurt anyone.
5. Like any veteran of terry towelling, Granny believes in 10 or 12 daily nappy changes
Don't suppose it can do any harm. Granny often brings round packs
of nappies. "Bulky for you to carry!" she says. "Let me bring these
over in the car."
6. Limited interaction for K with other babies - or "tweenies"
But lots of admiration from the other old ladies Granny seems to
meet while out and about buying biscuits. Doesn't matter so much to us,
because K is with other children at nursery twice weekly.
7. Hard to concentrate while working at home if K and Granny larking
about in kitchen, often playing "Let's empty Granny's handbag".
It always sounds like so much fun in the kitchen, I get distracted.
Not difficult, admittedly, given my scatter-brain head. Usually, they
end up going for a walk. In which they stop off at the shops to buy,
guess what? More biscuits.
8. The voice of experience.
In terms of childcare, Granny's been there, done it, and got two adult children to prove it.
Okay, her generation doesn't have our hang-ups about organic food,
breastfeeding and Gina Ford. They did things differently, for example
parking their babies at the bottom of the garden.
They didn't have post-natal groups for support and company; their men
weren't expected to help out like our partners do, and they seem to
have spent all day washing nappies years before anyone got extra
brownie points for being environmentally friendly with "real" nappies.
But the fact is, Granny knows what she's doing when it comes to looking after a small child.
9. My daughter gets one-to-one attention, all day long, from someone who loves her
Which is both good, and maybe not-so-good, depending on which survey you read at the time.
10. Nursery get exasperated if I keep bothering them to check K's okay.
Whereas Granny and K will happily blow bubbles and coo down the
phone, (yes, both of them) whenever I call home. Just as long as it's
not on Granny's mobile, (please see No. 2).
11. In a crisis, Granny'll drop everything, even the golf
championship match where she's hoping to improve her handicap, and come
round to help
When my husband and I were both ill over Christmas (remember the Winter Vomiting Virus?) she helped out - big time.
12. Granny would never expect remuneration for all the work she does
She does it out of love. Err, maybe that's cheesy, but it's kind of how it is.
New research says toys and books have no significant future
associations with children's development. According to the Institute of Education, reported by BBC Online, the most important factor is parents playing and talking with their children. Err... doh!
"Toys and books have their place and do help children develop but what
is important is having the parents interact with the child," says the
Institute's Dr Leslie Gutman.
This should be so obvious. How do people get grants to do this kind of
research? Surely it just confirms what every parent already knows.
So much of the report's findings sounds like common sense.
"To have parents read to their children is much more important than
having a hundred books," says the report. Well, yes. Kind of a
no-brainer, surely?
Children whose parents took them out grew up with better social skills, said the report.
Again, not a hard one to figure out.
But actually, on second thoughts, maybe this is useful research. In
fact, I wish I'd known this a year ago, before I accumulated sacks of
unwanted toys.
I bought them partly because I didn't want people to think I was a tightwad who wouldn't spend on her child.
The toy marketing made me think K would suffer impaired development if I didn't.
I mean, my goodness, not having the musical mobile that plays Bach,
complete with cows circling in mid-air above, might have hindered her
hand-eye co-ordination and slowed her speech development.
Yes, maybe this does have all sorts of useful applications. Perhaps Dr
Gutman could circulate her research to health professionals. That might
deal with my health visitor who was on about why we needed a baby "gym"
to help with "infant stimulation".
Parents might have more spare space in their cupboards if Dr Gutman's
research got a good airing. Charity shops would probably come off
worse, though.
Actually, what the research proves is that I should have listened to my daughter. She's had the right idea for months.
She's far more interested in parental interaction than toys.
Her top-favourite thing right now is when I put a muslin over my head,
pop my sunglasses on top of the cloth and do my Mrs Muzzlepops/Yasser
Arafat impersonation.
More confident around other children
K used to crumple at playgroups if another child tried to take her
toys. Strange though this might sound of a one-year-old, she's become
more assertive, in a healthy way, and better at standing her ground.
Better at interacting with other children
K's started to enjoy pushing balls around on the floor with some of her friends. She's better aware of other children.
Staff know what they're doing
These women can change a nappy faster than it takes me to think, "Oh,
maybe I'd better fill the water jug before we get started."
I forgot to post these earlier. An excellent comment on my earlier posting today Pros and Cons of Nursery Life reminded me of them.
Having spent the last few days fuming at stories about greedy 'have-it-all'
mothers repenting their wicked career-minded ways by shunning nurseries
and staying home to look after their kids, here are some of my thoughts
on the pros and cons of nurseries, based on personal experience.
PROS
Making switch from bottle to breast
It was nursery staff who first persuaded my daughter, then aged 10
months, to take a bottle, something I'd been trying for weeks, with no
success. Since then she hasn't looked back. I was beginning to fear I'd be
breastfeeding at the school gates. Thanks to that breakthrough, people have now stopped saying
things like: "Did you see that programme on extraordinary
breastfeeding?"
Healthy balanced diet
At home, K survives on a diet of porridge, apple puree and biscuits.
Believe me, it's not for lack of trying on my part. I have my Annabel
Karmel cookbook and I'm not afraid to use it. But I cook up spaghetti
bolognaise, fish pasta and cauliflower cheese in vain. Even my old
stand-by of sweet potato and chicken is out of favour. However, the
nursery staff can get her to eat chicken papaya, no less. I've been asking for tips on how they do it.
Keener to walk
Don't know if peer group pressure is altogether a good thing, but it
seems to me that since K has seen other children about her age, or a bit
older, starting to toddle, she's keener to do the same.
CONS
These probably reflect my shortcomings as much as the nursery's, but here goes:
Separation anxiety (mine, not hers)
I haven't quite come to terms yet with my daughter being pushed around
the streets of Edinburgh, in the nursery's three-seater buggies, by
someone other than me. The thought I might bump into her "out a walk"
at lunchtime is wierd.
She's comes home smelling of someone else's perfume.
Disconcerting. I get a bit jealous. But I also take this as a positive, since it means that she must be getting lots of cuddles.
The, err, commercial aspect of childcare...
A nursery worker burst into the baby room yesterday. "Okay, we don't
have to do Edward Simmons and Jack McLeod today. They're on holiday till the 17th."
It's painful to be disabused of fantasy everyone loves K as much as me
A couple of the people who look after her at nursery are fond of her.
Everyone else is well-disposed. Nobody, strangely, seems aware of how
special and wonderful she is.
Picking up bad habits
No long after starting nursery K started sucking thoughtfully on pieces
of toast, before allowing them to slither out her mouth and down onto
her front, where they linger, transformed into repellant brown slugs.
Could never prove it, but suspect it's a lark she first saw at nursery.
Hotbed of germs
Babies pick up every bug going as soon as they start at nursery.
You can't get the days or times you necessarily want
Which seems to contradict the story about all these empty nursery
places left vacant by repentant nasty hard career women. In my
experience, any decent nursery gets booked up months, even years, ahead.
Breastfeeding Daughter Nursery Play Pregnancy Work Edinburgh Food
Another day, another childcare survey that may upset many
mothers. "The first evidence of an end to the 'have-it-all' generation of
women emerges today," reports The Times, with unmistakable glee in Nurseries feel pinch as mothers stay home.
The so-called "evidence" of the end to greedy 'have-it-alls' is that almost a quarter of UK nursery
places are vacant, as women take up their "right to request"
part-time work after having a child.
According to the paper, one reason for the vacancies is that more women are
staying at home longer to look after their children themselves, instead of
putting them into nursery.
It says another reason is a
government report warning that putting children in full-time nursery care can
make them anti-social and anxious.
Now we've got the chance to stay at home longer, that's what
many of us are doing. Only 7% of children in daycare are now under a year old. Women
have, rightly, got better financial support in staying at home to look after
their kids, and that's what many of us are choosing to do. We didn't go to work
to "have it all”, we did it because our families needed the income.
Of course, someone screwing up the estimates for nursery place numbers doesn’t make quite such a good story
and The Times dwells instead on that government report into the evils of nursery
care.
The worst-behaved child I've ever met spent his first four years glued to the
side of his overly doting mother, who honestly couldn't see that he (and she)
needed help. This little terror never set foot in a nursery.
Funnily enough, newspapers don’t focus on that side of the story, possibly
because it doesn’t have the “feel-bad” factor all mothering stories seem to
need.
'Have-it-all' generation, indeed. 'Do-it-all', more like.