I've been wondering why I'm bothering to do this.
The thing is, I'm mortifyingly, cringingly, horrendously embarrassed that I've got a blog. If the point of having a blog is for people to read it, then you have, presumably, to tell them that you're doing it. Only I can't bring myself to do so. So they aren't, and unless I start telling them, they won't.
So then why am I bothering?
This isn't, to be fair, my idea. My friend AK came up with it, and she's American... but I think the point is that here I am, endlessly rotating the same questions, choices and arguments in my head: to work, not to work, to look after the children, to get someone else to do it, to find an intellectual pursuit, to enjoy yourself, to be fulfilled, to have a happy marriage, to be so bored you argue with your other half just for something to do, to do what you were trained to do, to follow your heart... and somehow I have to resolve them into a plan that's right for me and my family, regardless of what my parents, my friends, my employers, or society at large may think.
And somehow, I get the feeling I'm not alone.
It's a bit teenage to write down all your thoughts and feelings, and my days of doodling little hearts above my "i"s are long behind me, but perhaps by committing them to type, I can work out how I feel and get myself on the track to that elusive Plan B; a nirvana in which I am happy and fulfilled, still manage to bring some income into the house and have time to give my husband and children the attention and love they deserve.
So maybe this is just a cheap (and silent) therapist and life coach.
But if I am right and there are other mums out there feeling the same way, maybe it could be that, and more, for all of us. Maybe I'm doing it in the hope, despite the luddite shame, that it will be read. And maybe, if it is read, those others out there can help me (and I them) towards our own individual Plans B. With (hopefully) some ranting and swearing along the way.
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