Was it REALLY Christmas Eve that I last posted in this blog? Good grief…
No point trying to catch up properly with the last three months. Suffice it to say that my broken foot mended enough that I could return to work with a limp at the beginning of January, and the limp had disappeared less than a week later. All completely back to normal now, of course, though it still aches a bit at the fracture site when I’ve been standing for a long time.
I’ve never had a ‘word for the year’ before, as many of my blogging friends and acquaintances do. I never intended to either, but at the beginning of this year, a word kept coming to mind and I couldn’t shake it off. In the end I decided to adopt it as a sort of all encompassing New Year’s resolution (something else I don’t usually bother with!). The word?
I am a rubbish relaxer. I’m not a worrier as such, but I’m always just that bit… tense. On edge. Waiting for the next thing to go pear shaped. When I sit down to knit, or read, or watch TV, I always have that feeling I should be doing something else – and even though ‘should’ has been a banned word in our house for a long time now, it’s still my go-to feeling until I remind myself not to.
But this January 1st, I resolved to make ‘Relax’ my watchword for the year.
I was slightly scared that there was something significant in the word and that life would give me reason to need it (is it just me whose mind works that way?), and almost immediately after Christmas, work became trickier and for reasons beyond anyone’s control I realised that my job was probably going to be disappearing before too long. And in the middle of rather a lot of difficult days and weeks, I found that I was indeed relaxed, against all the odds. I just had that feeling that it would all be okay, even though I had no idea how.
I stumbled upon a job I just knew I had to apply for, even though I wasn’t really looking for a job at the time. I applied. I got an interview. I was offered the job. I didn’t actually WANT to leave the school I’m at now but as the child I was supporting is no longer there, I couldn’t be sure I’d still have a job come September.
So, I have four more days left at my current school. Four more days of 17 mile commutes (hurrah). Four more days with lovely supportive staff and gorgeous children who I am going to miss SO much (sob).
Then after the Easter holidays, I will start at a new school. This one isn’t 17 miles away; it’s about half a mile away. A ten minute walk from home. Same pay, same hours, very similar job to the one I’ve been doing. But half a mile from my house. I can’t even count all of the ways this is going to improve our family life but:
- I will save about £150 a month in fuel costs.
- Child care costs will go down from quite a lot to almost nothing.
- I can have breakfast with Three and then walk her to school.
- When she is ready, she can start walking to school on her own, just as her brother and sister did at the same age.
- Because of the way my hours are set out, I will be able to come home and have lunch with One, at least some of the days.
- Walking there and back each day will be regular exercise I am just not getting at the moment – I’m hoping it will help my waistline to cease expanding and maybe even shrink a little!
This is a bitter-sweet week coming up. Four days left in a familiar environment I didn’t actually want to leave, then saying goodbye to a very lovely set of people, before taking 30-40 minutes driving along a busy dual carriageway to get home. Then on Friday I’m going to walk Three to school for the first time in well over a year, then going in to visit my new school to get my bearings and find out about the child I’ll be working with, and meet some of the other staff, ready to start properly after the Easter holidays. And then I can walk home. And it’ll take me 10 minutes.
I foresee a mixture of tears and excitement. It all feels very weird.
Next post (because I’m planning on being back blogging again now) I will tell you all about the holiday One and I have got planned. :-)