What am I?

Do you ever get that feeling when you wonder, what am I? Well, I know the basics, of course. I am a just-turned-40-year-old female of relative intelligence with a stimulating job and a fantastic family.

Sounds great, right? And it is. But it’s all the hats a working mother has to wear in one day. I need a separate wardrobe just to house them all!

I am not taking away from the fathers at all. They have their own struggles. They often have to leave their families and trot off to work all day long and think of nothing else except their job, except for when they are enjoying an hour-long lunch break… I’m joking, of course. Sort of.

Okay, so let me enlighten you on my day yesterday, along with the vital switching of roles:

7am Mother, house keeper, family organiser - attempting to remember the various attire and equipment the two small children need for their school day; creating a healthy and appealing packed lunch for each of the said children out of whatever is left in the fridge; make self appropriately presentable for a morning of work meetings; gather all necessary equipment required for morning of meetings; recall who I am meeting and why (always helps) and, indeed, where (also useful).

8.30am Mother - present children at school, fully assembled with all belongings, stringently concentrating on not leaving anything required in the boot of the car. Deposit little darlings at school to a number of comments from other parents on how smart I look in my work attire. This clearly means I look more like a homeless person on the other days when I’m working from home. Possibly true.

9am - 1pm Journalist and copywriting expert - ensure I am on time for first meeting 30-odd miles away, remembering the name of the person I am interviewing for a magazine and the details of why; interview said person in professional manner, ensuring I have all relevant information to create an excellent piece of work the mag editor will love; trying not to let my mind wander from what the interviewee is saying to frantically working out what I have planned for tea for the family and if I have the right ingredients; arrive on time to next meeting and exude diligence and professionalism in my work to create excellent copywriting plan for client.

1.30pm - 2.30pm Self - lucky enough to squeeze in a very short but fast ride on my horse, using this time to relax and rejuvenate my mind and soul; the reality being that the wind establishes itself right up the tail of the horse, creating somewhat of a rollercoaster ride for me as the animal continues to spook at every moving leaf we pass; ensure horse is adequately looked after, whilst I move at the speed of light in order to shower and change before I collect the small people from school.

3pm Mother - arrive at school in time to park and collect the correct children on time from the right place. Nailed it.

4pm - 6pm Mother, journalist, house keeper, chef, baker, homemaker, teaching assistant apparently, launderer, cleaner - racing to listen to the small ones reading; cook three different dinners to some reasonable degree; folding the washing (possibly the worse job ever); try to tidy and clean (loose term) house, catch up on work emails; all whilst attempting to help make some whimsical creation involving a cereal box and lots of sticky tape with five-year-old daughter in the spirit of Art Attack.

7pm Self - I like to think I relax and recuperate. A more accurate description is probably zone out whilst watching mindless TV programmes dotted with intermittent worrying about what tomorrow will entail regarding work, family, home.

I’ve lost count of how many hats that is and the truth is that was only the highlights! The switching from responsible-and-engaging-parent to impressive-professional and back again several times in a day is exhausting enough. What I should be doing though is congratulating myself for all the criteria I’ve achieved and the boxes I’ve ticked in a day.

I’m a working mum. That is what I am. And to all you other working mums - the sisterhood - I salute you. I hear someone applauding me… wait, no, that’s the oven timer. I’m burning something. Let me just get the right hat on to deal with this situation.

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