Morning mayhem

Things have changed since last year. I took the bold decision to stop being a slave to the mind numbing commute to the job of my dreams, mostly because it had become the job of my nightmares.

I remember fighting for my right to be a working mum after the babies were born, against opposition from some more traditional (read Victorian) family members. The result was I won, but only with a comprehensive and complicated care regime in place. And still the expectation to be a mum/wife/housekeeper when I wasn't working.

The mornings were the worst - I love my sleep. After years of sleeping with one ear open for the mini-mes, I rarely feel rested. I'm a monster, dragging myself around and barely coherent until I'm on my second cup of tea. Great role model, right?

The greatest liberation about working was the opportunity to have a wee in peace. Here I'm subjected to invasions of privacy so intense, I now leave the door open so I can be consulted at any point. It's a little embarrassing when we've got "men" in, mind.

I now spend most of my day in my pjs, at the keyboard, fueled by tea. And it works for me.

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