The latest chapter in the life of me just started last week. I went back to uni and back to being to student bum!
[First time around as a ‘mature’ student at the ripe old age of 26. Don’t miss the dark hair, do miss the wrinkle-free eyes]
Presently it’s feeling like a little bit of an over-indulgence. Lets face it, the kids are at school, I have a degree to my name, plus a student loan of gargantuan proportions to accompany it, I should really be finding a job. And not just any old job: One that pays testament to my degree (which incidentally, was one hard slog. because what crazy person has two babies whilst at uni?); one that thanks Mr C for his hard slog in starting his career and family simultaneously and being the sole bread winner to boot; one that says ‘sorry Mum and Dad for dicking about at school and passing up every opportunity you gave me, but hey, I turned out OK anyway’; and most importantly, one that shows my girls that it is never too late.
Am I being unrealistic or hugely narcissistic to say that actually I want a ‘good’ job? One that pays well, one in which I can use those hardy brain cells that survived pregnancy, toddler-talk and extreme tiredness, and one that above all else….gives me the school holidays off. (Joking, not joking). Yet here is the thing. I’m absolutely, undeniably unemployable.
In my mind, I’m totally a great catch for any future employer. I’m outgoing, articulate, confident, literate, well-educated, have (some) common sense, and a solid work history. Hang on a minute. That was me ten years ago.
I now prefer to stay in with a decaff Nespresso any night of the week over going out schmoozing clients.
I swear with alarming ease in general conversation. What can I say? I love swearing.
I pass any difficult or potentially confrontational situation over to my husband to deal with.
I’m still literate. Well, it would be slightly concerning doing an MA in literature if I wasn’t.
Education. I realise now, after lectures last week, is a transient thing. Just because you knew the ins and outs of Freudian theory during your undergrad degree, you should expect to know precisely nothing about it six years, a gazillion nappies, feeds, soft-play visits and park trips later.
Common sense? I’ve managed to keep my children alive thus far.
And the killer, the deal breaker. Work history! That one question plus variations on the theme always catches me out. ‘So what do you do for a living?’ ‘How long have you been in your current position?’ ‘What’s your work history?’.
I might have better inter-personal skills than Michelle Obama (I wish). I can juggle at least five different tasks simultaneously. I love nothing more than event (read kids’ party) planning and I’m shit hot at doing the kids homework but a potential employer gives zero f*&ks about this because the long and short of it is, I haven’t had a ‘proper’ job in ten years.
The sensible thing to do would have been to get a job after graduating but I was a bit busy with three kids at that point. So here I am now. Copious amounts of time on my hands, with three kids that would rather be in after-school club (I know, ungrateful, right?), and the opportunity to spend another year at one of my fave places to be, fannying about in trainers, drinking coffee, hanging out with twenty one year old’s, with the odd bit of essay-writing thrown in to redress the balance.
On a serious note, I’m going to work my ass off this year and get that job I’ve always wanted. Prove to my husband he was right in giving in to my fanciful whims and prove to myself I’m more than just a mum.