Wednesday, 20 June 2012

When work is the perfect excuse

The countdown clock has started and the tension is beginning to build. Less than 3 months to go.
I’m leaving my job, my big fat public sector pension and I’m setting up on my own.
But that isn’t what’s making me nervous.  From September, I’’ll be doing the school run.
No car waiting with the engine running, no traffic build-up to avoid, no flexi-clock ticking away timing my arrival in work. Simply put, I’ll have no more excuses. The boy is starting  school and I’M going to have to stand by the gate.
And smile
And chat
To be honest I’m shit scared. I’m supposed to be all nervous and excited about my eldest starting school and worried that he might not settle in properly…..blah blah blah blah blah blah.    But I have none of those fears. The teachers seem nice, the building is lovely and he knows a few people already.
But will be EXPECTED TO STAND NEXT TO THEM AND CHAT. Probably for a good 10 minutes.
I won’t have work as an excuse anymore. In my new world I will do work after the school run and once the kids are in bed. In my new world I will act like the perfect mother, walking my child safely to school come rain or shine. (and walking back up that bloody big hill again, sweating like a fat lass at a dance and wishing I’d taken the car)
So I’ve got 3 months to find an excuse. I can’t withdraw my resignation, that just looks like I’ve bottled it. I’ll be working up til September so no time to wander on down to the playgroup and pick up a few mates that way.
I’m just going to have to face it. Stand alone for a while, hope someone notices me. Smile politely and look friendly (fine line between friendly and slightly mad). If I’m ignored I’ll play with my phone (slight problem with no mobile signal). 
Or I could go for the really painful option and force myself (with a bit of under-the-breath bullying ‘do it you coward, come on you unsociable bitch’) to go over and talk to them. Walk into a group of mums who know each other really well and say something cheesy “Hi, it’s my first day, what’s your name?”
What do you reckon? No me neither. Better phone the breakfast club.