I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with Christmas. On one hand I enjoy hanging out with my family (admittedly sometimes in small doses), and when it’s behaving New Zealand’s summer is totally bodacious. But all the supermarket shopping, present purchasing and ham basting that goes into just one day eventually grind my gears. That’s why this weirdo is actually looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.
Sometimes work is an oasis, a sanctuary away from the rigmarole of reality. Yes, working for myself is challenging. Deadlines suck. Clients who want me to work for them but don’t really know what they’re looking for then moan about what I give them yet don’t provide any feedback or direction are the bane of my existence.
But when I also try to squeeze the likes of daycare drop-off, grocery shopping, managing money, cleaning the house, doing the washing, cooking dinner and trips to the zoo into my week, while also organising Spawn #1’s third birthday and planning Husband’s 30th and oh yeah, the ironing board needs new padding but where the hell am I going to find that, it’s almost a relief to go to work where I can methodically tick off my to-do list and for a few hours only focus on myself.
Conversely, a stormy cloud has hovered over Husband’s head ever since we packed the car for the long drive home from summer holidays and he had to accept that Monday was coming and he couldn’t do anything about it. On Sunday evening while I sat there smugly looking forward to my extra day off the following day because why not, he struggled through ironing 12 shirts because while he’s very good at ironing, he’s also very good at stockpiling. Every now and again a long and deep sigh would escape his lungs and I’d have to feign sympathy when really I was like, bro, suck it up. Everyone has to do it.
The beauty of self-employment is being able to control your week exactly how you want. That’s why, even though most normal people went back to work today, I decided to gift myself one last day away from Spawn #1, emails, clients and housework. Instead I bought some maternity bras because #pregnantboobs and got sunburnt at the beach (so in hindsight, going back to work today might’ve been a better idea).
So 2019, you can come at me with whatever you’ve got because this lady boss thinks work is going to be pretty epic this year. Well, until I go and have a baby (in, what, 10 weeks?) and swap semi-regular paychecks and tax returns for poopy nappies and cracked nipples. That’s going to be a whole different kettle of work – one that I hope I enjoy as much as my paid job.