Gosh, there have been some seriously big changes around these parts, and we’ve felt like every second week has seen a new *big* announcement made to our followers / private FB group of TDP grads, and then all of these changes have meant significantly bigger workloads, which is fine, because we’re taking on bigger workloads with some big picture goals as our “light at the end of the tunnel” motivation, but? It’s also meant that I could no longer remotely pretend that “phone down Wednesdays” were even remotely do-able any more.

 

What are “phone down Wednesdays”, you ask? Well, it was this little thing that I [we / all of TDP] did where we don’t work on Wednesdays, in favour of spending the day with our little people.

 

And it’s a beautiful thing, and it’s even a little bit romantic, but in the last few months? All of that “phone down Wednesday’ing” has meant for me, has been shaving off a full work day and instead moving those lost hours into seriously late evenings on my laptop after the kids are asleep / stress-filled weekends trying to be “on” and present as a parent, … but also madly scrambling to tackle a rather unachievable workload.

 

It was time to stop pretending that this was working.  Because it’s not, and it’s not been fair to myself, … nor my children.

 

They had a perfectionistic parent trying to be all the things, but all that’s translated to is a seriously tired Mum, who is still *bombarded* with work demands all weekend, and whilst the kids haven’t yet been able to pick up on my weekend stress, I’ve felt like weekends have just become this ordeal where I’m trying my absolute darndest to be the happy and the present parent, … but my mind regularly casts to [and freaks out about!] all.the.gahd.damned.things.I.have.to.do as a result of taking that x1 “phone down Wednesday” off work.

 

Not worth it.

 

But still, I resisted.  “For the love of God, woman! You are going to cram beyond full-time hours into a x4 day working week, and you are going to wake up energetic every day, and you will plan incredible weekends with the kids, every week” was this ongoing inner dialogue I’ve had goin’ on for the last 3-4’ish months.

 

All in the name of sticking to my higher plan, i.e that I would stay home with the kids until they were both at school full-time.

 

Silly, lay-deh! 😉

 

And then one day? My daughter gave me the sense check I needed.  It was “phone down Wednesday”, and I was all like, “it’s just you and me today, kiddo!” but she was all like, … “but I wanna go to Sandy’s!” [Sandy is our beloved family day care lady].

 

In my head I was thinking, “are you seriously serious? I am killing myself to give you weekly Wednesday’s with me, and you just want to go to Sandy’s?”.

 

But she did.  And she expressed that honestly.  And I’ll be eternally grateful to her for that, because the thing is this, she’s a seriously social kid, and she lives to hang out with and “BFF” little girls, and our family day care lady has a little girl ex.actly Frankie’s age, so that’s where she wants to be on Wednesdays, ha!

 

Yes, it’s one year ahead of schedule, but if I pop her where she wants to be on Wednesdays, the difference it’s already meant has been this;

 

  • Evenings not working away on my laptop
  • More Netflix’ing with the hubster
  • More conversation with the hubster
  • Less stress
  • A less crippling post-work hours workload

 

But the best part? Weekend’s fecking rock now [!!]

 

I look forward to them.  I don’t feel anxious thinking about all.the.things I *should* be doing, because the only thing I should be doing? Is enjoying well earned time with my beloved little humans.  When Saturday rolls around now, I am on, … and I’m present, and really engaged, and the quality time we have together? It’s just … better.  

 

So? Thank you Frankie Jean.  Thank you for giving me verbal consent to give up Wednesdays, in favour of crawling into bed at a decent hour, and looking forward to weekends.  I’d *never* have made the move without your consent, and like some of the sillier things in life, I just needed someone to tell me that “it’s ok to work full-time, Mama”.

 

Ironically, that person was my 4yo daughter.

 

The next chapter, … and a much happier and more balanced one. x

 

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