Chaletgirl

There is so much that I miss about going to work.

I miss the camaraderie and the social life that results from working with people. People above the age of 4.

I miss my lunch hour with freedom to roam the city, go for a walk in the fresh air, shop without a pram and enjoy anything for lunch that I could imagine.

I miss the occasional long lunches, social events, Christmas parties and functions where no expense was spared in putting on great food and entertainment.

I miss bonus time. March. March was good.

I even miss the commuting, where I could be guaranteed at least an hour a day of stitching or sewing or listening to music. Alone time. Or alone as it can be in a city of 4 million people all trying to get to work in the same place at the same time.

And that’s not even including the actual work. I’ve had jobs that I enjoyed more than others, but all jobs have given me a sense of self-esteem, accomplishment and confidence that is so hard to replicate in my life now.

I miss being around people, my colleagues, that knew I was capable of nearly anything and had faith in my ability to do a job and do it well. Or solve a problem that they couldn’t themselves.

I loved that.

I miss the closing of a deal, the satisfaction that all your hard work resulted in something. The celebrations, the team-work, the bonding.

Now it should, and it does, go without saying that I know how incredibly lucky I am to now be able to stay at home with my kids. It is an opportunity that I never really thought I would have.

And if I squint my eyes and look back into the past when I worked full time for a few months when Henry was little, and then part time after that, those early morning starts where I had to be at the door of daycare to drop him off, in the cold, cold mornings at 7am sharp or I would be late for a 9am start in the city, then I know that it wasn’t the romantic vision of trotting off into the city that I now have. It was hard, and it was tiring and I did not always enjoy it.

But I do romanticise about those days. Spending most of the time with small children is not always rewarding or confidence-boosting. When told that Mummy is going out and taking Daddy’s car, to be asked, “But do you know how to drive Daddy’s car?” might seem sweet, but I wish, how I wish, that Henry thought me as capable as others might once have.

So, as I share with you the deal that I closed today, which gave me a high that I have not felt for a long, long time, you might think I am crazy. Or maybe you can relate to it a little bit. You could hardly call it work, but I will take my adrenalin rush and hold it and fondle it, because this is what I found today.

On the clearance table at a local quilt shop, hidden under 8 bolts of ugly fabric, a bolt of very hard to find and highly coveted monochromatic yellow ovals from American Jane. For A$5.95 a metre. No typo. Less than A$6.00 a metre, which, for Australian fabric prices, is practically giving it away.

Oh, you might laugh. But this felt so good.

Most of it is going to Amy, who loves to use this to make her hippos.

photo from Badskirt

She’s doing a little dance right now. Me too.

This little treasure is from Japan!

Shinzi Katoh – Little Red Riding Hood