The time has come people. I have run out of excuses and, to be honest cash. Zilch, zero, it’s all gone, every last $$$ of my 20 year savings obliterated. The life clock has ticked past high and lowsthe deadline of Stay at Home Mum; and here I am.  I have to get back into a paid job – NOW, and to be brutally honest, I am absolutely, mind blaringly terrified of holding it all together. I am not talking stealth, stiletto, and power suit career here.No, I just mean your bog standard, 9 to 5 slog. Millions of parents do it. They have to. We all do. I get that.

But how do you do it ? How can you split an already split share of your life pie and still feel funny mom cryingthat everyone has had enough  to satisfy ? I scare myself as I curtain twitch some mornings, coffee in hand, and I see other parents herding their precious little people off for the day.  I watch as mum, hurls herself and her two mini me’s out of the front door and into the car. She is half-dressed herself; jacket half on, jacket half off. No make up yet, flat shoes. She looks tired, harassed , and it’s not even 7.30 am yet. Still, the focus and determination on her face to get into that car is worthy of an Olympic sprinter staring down the white lines of the 100 metre track.I think if she wore flat shoes, she might win. You need flat shoes I think for this part of your working day. I am sure she is lacking in food or coffee or both. I am sure it will be almost lunchtime before she realizes or cares. I watch, a tiny little knot is forming in the pit of the my stomach and an uneasy frown, I know has creased my head; I know this is me. Very soon this will be me.

So the kids tumble into the car. Backpacks and socks half hitched, as Mr 7 smudgeslate for work strawberry jam  onto  his sisters clean white shirt. He smirks, as Mum, bent over, her head and her radar safely committed underneath the car seat,  in the search for yesterdays discarded lunch box . Sometimes there is shouting; mostly from Mum, as car doors slam. Bang, bang, bang in unison; engine, reverse, gone. Silence. I can almost feel the exhale for her as she drops them at daycare and the school gate. But then what comes next for her? Do the  flats come off and the stilettos go on at this point? Are you supposed to drive in  stilettos? Do I have to wear stilettos these days? Another deep exhale as she syncs the car clock against her wrist watch and she breathes out….. Its OK, she is on schedule. Well for now. Let’s hope it stays that way. Lets keep everything crossed that the traffic lights are kind today. Lets hope little Miss under 4 holds her breakfast down and does not end up in sick bay again, because lets face it the Kindy nurse will ring; just as you head off into an important meeting, spreadsheet or whatever it is that you do, and you just know, that the nurse will call you first, rather than Dad, that’s just the way it is sometimes…………

So, here I am. Today, as I nightmare the inevitable, before I even  open up the job seekersapply now page my mind starts racing with the unavoidable that will be my life the moment I click on APPLY NOW. Are you going to be a kind and understanding new boss? Especially in the first few weeks, when lets face it, I will be a physical mess as I stumble through your glass doors? Will you be pissed at me, when I get that phone call that little Miss 2 is sick and needs her Mummy? Will Mummy and Daddy fight over whose job it is now to do the cooking, cleaning, washing and the middle of the night call outs? Will she love me less, if I am not there for her ? This is my fear. I know I need to get over it, take a deep breath and know it will be different and I guess it will take some getting used to, by all of us, not just me. I just hope I can fake it, along with the other few million parents, out there. Deep breath. Here we go………………

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