Hiding behind some cheap mascara and a shiny new notebook, I stepped into the world of journalism once more. After a year of nappy changing, sleepless nights and mopping up carrot puree the new job seemed to be a golden ticket to a little sanity. With a hop, skip and a double-check that no baby vomit was to be found on my for-once-ironed skirt I made it into work. Ten thirty was a reasonable request or so I thought to make it into the office – most civilised. Little did I know that it would take every nanosecond to get the under three’s out of the house, teeth brushed, nursery uniform adorned and granny bag packed for baby, not to mention the two different drop-off points. On the upside, my marathon training proved to have some transferable skills, like getting me to the finish line in time with a sprint from the tube to my desk. Phew just made it. So here I am. Web Editor of WorkingMums and I’m very excited too.
So you may want to know a little more about me. Go on flatter me! Someone has to. George, is ‘peachy number one’ (aged three and a half, interests: Peppa Pig, chocolate consumption and picking on younger brother) and William is ‘peachy number two’ (aged one, interests: teeth production – eight at last count, waking early, dodging blows from big bro). They are my fabulous (well sometimes) boys. The peach crew are my world, plus of course (ahem) Seb, lovely hubby (aged thirty-something, interests: the remote control, power tools (not in the manner of Mr Muscle more DIY disasters) and pah pahing about the state of the economy). Completing the Weasley family as I call us (we are blessed with the ginger gene) is Pumpkin, the dog – so called because of Halloween purchase – a small, yet yapping Cavalier King Charles Spaniel (aged four, interests: sleeping, barking at shadows and hoovering up little boys leftovers).
The topic of conversation at the moment is the house move. Having outgrown our flat, well to be honest that happened about two years ago, we are finally moving to a real house. I’m most excited. After eleven years I finally get to go upstairs to bed. In my book that is life progress. And so it is with impeccable timing that I’ve managed to coincide a new job with a house move – great planning! But after a six month search that would make Kirstie and Phil proud and a good prod at most locations with an hour’s commute we finally and with much courage on our part, settled on moving one road up. Result. The congestion, house prices and lack of garden just proved too much of a pull and so we’ve decided to remain faithful to our beloved Clapham. The big move is next Friday and between now and then there are a zillion things to wrestle with. Wish me luck and until next time, toodle pip.