The Mumpreneur Diaries: Business, Babies or Bust - One Mother of a Year. Mosey Jones
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Название: The Mumpreneur Diaries: Business, Babies or Bust - One Mother of a Year
Автор: Mosey Jones
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9780007362509
isbn:
The Mumpreneur Diaries
Mosey Jones
Business, babies or bust, one mother of a year
To Tomos and Joshua, without whom the world would be a much quieter, but infinitely less entertaining place
Table of Contents
Many of the people I have written about in this book did not ask to be included so I have changed their names and in some cases other minor details to preserve their anonymity. Naturally others asked, pleaded, begged even, to be included, but I said, ‘No, Dylan Jones of Twyford, Berkshire, you remain anonymous like everyone else.’ Equally, memory is a fickle mistress, particularly that of a woman with ‘baby brain’ twice over, but I’ve tried to write conversations as closely as possible to how they happened. Certainly in the reporting the grammar may have improved, the swearing excised and the drivel paraphrased. Finally, the timeline may have been adjusted in places to help the overall – true – story make sense. In many respects I wish someone had fiddled with the calendar at the time. Then I might not have been perpetually late for everything.
Thursday 1 November 2007
Another day, another commute from hell. This morning I am trapped somewhere between Regent’s Park and Oxford Circus, my nose jammed in a damp armpit belonging to a very large man, inhaling lungfuls of deliciously ripe BO. This is made even more heavenly by the fact that:
1 it is rush hour
2 we are underground on the Bakerloo (or baking loo) Line
3 we’ve been stuck in the tunnel for half an hour
4 I am 8 months pregnant thus invisible to everyone in a seat.
I can’t wait for maternity leave to start. I don’t care if I never see the office again. Samuel Johnson said: ‘If you’re tired of London, you’re tired of life.’ If that’s the case, Sammy boy, I’m exhausted. I bloody hate London.
To achieve what is laughably called a ‘work/life balance’, the Husband and I share dropping off/picking up childcare duties. He therefore leaves home before the sun rises so he can get back in time to collect Boy One at 6 pm. I do the opposite, leaving for work at a leisurely 9.30 am, only to return home long after the sun has set.
On the way home I call the Husband from the train to see how bedtime is getting on. Sounding out of breath, apparently he and Boy One have been playing horseys round the living room. At 8.30 pm. As usual I assume the role of grown-up, telling him off for unsuitable parenting behaviour. But despite reading the Riot Act, I am secretly disappointed. It sounds like they are having heaps of fun – without me.
Friday 2 November 2007
I can see why I would spend four hours a day being transported in worse conditions than a veal calf if I was producing groundbreaking work. Somehow, whiling away the hours fiddling about on Facebook doesn’t quite measure up. I’m particularly puzzled by applications that allow you to buy your friends a virtual gin and tonic – the point of which is what, precisely?
Boredom drives me to poke old friends, the online equivalent of drunk dialling and a similarly bad idea. Most can’t fathom why you’ve chosen now to get in touch, and very few are genuinely pleased to hear from you. I instantly discover that the class geek from school has a varied and thrilling life doing something in security in Africa and several of the lumpier girls are now go-getting businesswomen with expensively highlighted hair and apple-cheeked kids, dressed courtesy of Mini Boden. My offspring isn’t so much apple-cheeked as banana-haired since most of his breakfast this morning wound up on his head.
Finding one of my old classmates on Friends Reunited, I decide I should refer to her as SuperScot. She is one of those people who seem effortlessly successful. I count myself lucky that I only get to see her once every ten years at school reunions. She’s the one you fret about seeing because the fabulous media career you’ve been so proud of moments before seems kind of hollow СКАЧАТЬ