Sorry, that’s misleading! I don’t know what happens next. What I really meant was what is all the shite that needs to happen next, which I put off doing all last year.
To whit: my children, my husband and my house all need more attention.
When my youngest child started at school I thought it would be a good opportunity to take on lots of work – that’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Start making soap on your kitchen table, revolutionise the brassiere industry following a brainwave in a changing room, go to nightschool and discover a passion for accounting.
Work, work, work, I thought. Work. WERK! Plus in the back of my mind a faint feeling that I ought to be able to support my family on my own. Isn’t that the only true way to live as a modern woman? With no need for a man?
But then I discovered what every working mother discovers, which is that if you work and your husband works and you have no childcare, your house falls to bits and your kids eat pasta every single night for dinner. We survive, sure – but is that enough?
Things have got to change around here – and I don’t just mean our moth-eaten carpets, although yes they’ve got to go. I’m going to cook more, work less, look after my family more, see my friends more often, recycle most of the contents of my house. Read more books, go for more walks.
And now: how about you? What happens next where you are?