On Monday morning I will be going back to work.
I will actually be styling my hair, getting out of my PJs, putting on proper shoes instead of Converse and driving to an office.
My days of working from home as a freelance social media manager will be over. I am moving onto a new chapter in my life.
I have a big smile on my face.
Truth be told, now my kids are older they just don’t need me as much any more. Well, apart from taxi duties. They really do want me for that. I could whine and moan about it, but here’s the thing: my kids are active, they want to play in matches, be with friends, hang out. There may come a day when they don’t want to do any of that and that day will make me sad, so I’m going to go on facilitating those things in the hope that it will stick for as long as possible. Even after a day at work.
But back to me. I’m bored. Bored of discussing last night’s ‘must see’ TV with myself. Sure I can get caught up in a heated debate on Twitter about it, but it’s not the same. It’s just not. I want to see faces. I want to hear that little sharp intake of breath because something happened that no one saw coming.
I want to be in a tea-making pool and get grumpy when one of them doesn’t make my builders tea properly.
I want to stop sitting at my desk and working in my PJs because there is absolutely no reason to brush my hair or put any make up on until 2.30pm when I have a Skype call.
I want to leave work at the office and not the office at home which I can easily “just pop into and do half an hour of stuff” which is never ever ever half and hour.
And here’s the main thing I want to stop; my kids seeing me sat at my computer and sighing “you’re ALWAYS in your office mum”. I hate that. I know it shows a good work ethic but I want home time to be family time and I seem to have lost that somewhere along the way.
No. I’ve done the work from home thing. I’ve loved it; loved every minute of it. Loved working from the garden when the sun is out and the sound of birdsong as my accompaniment. Loved being able to pop to school to watch Dan’s cricket match. Loved being able to choose my working hours, and sit at my desk in my slippers and a new hairstyle I tried and failed miserably at but kept it in any way because, well, who cares?
It’s time to move on and stop eating all the chocolate digestives in the biscuit tin.
And so from Monday I will be starting a fabulous job at an amazing university where I basically get to chat on social media and take photos of the grounds and the goings on AND get to sit in an office with other mothers, hipsters, regular twenty somethings, new dads, older dads, recent graduates, old timers. And me. Little ole me. Mixing with people again.
And I could not be happier about it.
Wish me luck dear readers.