I thought the Sunday night blues couldn’t get worse than the one at the end of our holiday. I was wrong. Oh, how very wrong. This time they began around midday. I’ve been out of sorts and snappy and just downright miserable. Worse still, I’ve known it and have yet been simply unable to stop it.
I can’t put my finger on why exactly but I suspect it’s a mix of different emotions and anxieties.
1. A is going into her final year at junior school, with a teacher that I have little faith in. As much as I have been encouraging A to be open minded and to see how it goes, I’m feeling almost entirely the opposite.
2. She is going away in two weeks for 4 nights with her class to Norfolk. It’s a fantastic trip (T also went when he was in year 6 and had a wonderful time) and I’m sure she will enjoy it. But I’m worried. Very very worried. I’m hoping that if I worry all week while she’s away (and probably for the next two weeks before she goes) then she will have no problems and will have the time of her life. The fact that she’s starting back at school tomorrow makes the trip even more real.
3. I always regret the wasted days in the holidays. The wasted opportunities and the time spent moaning or nagging and not enjoying EVERY minute. Yes, I know this is unrealistic and only a liar (or an incredibly lucky person) would say that they’ve enjoyed every moment of the holidays, but I regret it nonetheless. I always start off with such high hopes and ideas and enthusiasm. Saying “we can do that in the holidays!” and meaning it. Until we don’t. Or dreaming of sunny days out doing wonderful things. And then the reality of British weather and work come along and scupper it. Regret.
4. I’m starting back in the office tomorrow. I’ve not been enjoying my job lately. Even before the holidays I was finding it monotonous, aggravating and just downright intrusive into homelife. The downside of working from home is its always there. I can put the laptop away and try and pretend but it’s still there in the back of my mind that I should be working. I’m contracted to “check in” on stuff over the weekend and so on Thursday nights when I ceremoniously log off “for the weekend” it’s not really as meaningful as I make it seem. I’ve been back doing this role for around 18 months now and it’s starting to sink in why I didn’t want to go back to a customer facing role again. I’d thought at the end of the maternity cover that it was just a bit of bravado when I told Dan that I was happy doing paperwork and the data entry stuff, because I was covering up that I was disappointed that the new mum had decided to come back. I now realise it wasn’t bravado. I really don’t like dealing with customer. I may be good at it. But it’s hard work being polite and conscientious all the time. Even by email. It’s so tempting to reply “who gives a s**t?!” But we need me working and when offered a flexible job in a role that’s not dispensable I would have been mad to say no. (When the new mum eventually went off to work for someone else).
5. T went back to school on Friday but A was still off so it didn’t seem so bad somehow but now it’s Sunday again and with both of them going in tomorrow it seems a hundred times worse. He’s in year 9. Year 9. How? How is he old enough to be choosing options for GCSE? How is he old enough to have size 9 feet and friends with breaking voices?! Sometimes I want to stop time and rewind and go back to myself at 34 and him at 4 and say to myself “stop, look at him and remember this”. Because it’s all moving so very quickly and I’m feeling like I’m on one of those runaway carts in a mine with a broken handle and I just can’t stop. Or even slow down just a touch.
Oh dear I hope these SNB’s let up soon. I suspect there’s one much worse one to come soon but after that perhaps I can sit smugly on a Sunday night feeling in control?