'Just' a Mummy

On Saturday I will put on a dress, some (low) heeled shoes and some make-up (!) and head into London for the annual old boys reunion for my school.

And I'm nervous, anxious, scared. I know that there would be people there who were clever and successful. Those who have exciting jobs, worldwide travels and grand job titles.

And the tiny teenage part of myself that never quite fitted in, feels ashamed that my life isn't anywhere near as exciting.

What on earth will I talk about?

My career? How I ended up dropping out of uni after my dad died?

How I was just a PA?

How I'm just a Mum?

I'm worried that my old classmates and friends will judge my life choices and see someone distinctly uninteresting (and fat, but let's not go there).

But yesterday, I built a house.

OK, it was out of cardboard, and came with instructions. 

But that house made a three year old with an intermittent attitude problem so happy they sat in it exclaiming "I love it! I love it! I just love it!" and I realised that I don't particularly want an exciting, jet setting role. Every career decision I have made in the last ten years has not been about status, progression, or even salary, but about balancing work and family.

I love my current job as a part-time school receptionist and I loved my last job as a PA. I have met and worked with great people and inspiring leaders. I have project managed and launched some interesting products and have planned and organised fun events.

But my job also meant I could cut down my hours after having Lily and spend valuable time at home, watching and helping her grow.

So, I'm not a journalist. My life hasn't worked out the way my naive 16 year old self thought it would. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll be the sad, slightly frumpy but very happy woman there on Saturday night, boring everyone else with photos of my kids and telling anyone who will listen that the best part of my career is when Lily takes my hand and says "I love you mummy, you're a hero".

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