The day has come

Oh my god, the day has come. Yes, thats right, the stuff of nightmares: the day that I return to full time employment, post maternity. This is the day that I have been dreading since the day I became pregnant. Given that Baby M has never been more than 10m away from me in that time (except for the odd night out, gym session or shopping expedition), I am reigniting my separation anxiety all over again, except THIS TIME FEELS WORSE. Much, much, much worse. How on earth am I supposed to spend 50 hours (including travel time) away from my little man each week? How on earth am I supposed to concentrate when all I want to do is kiss his cheeks and tickle his tummy? Why does someone else (ie: my mother and husband), get to see him crawl, or maybe even take his first step without me to hold his hand? Why the hell did I decide to have a baby if it meant that I had to leave him? Yes, I have landed the perfect job now I am here in Sydney, and yes I always knew that day would come, but it doesn't take the sting out of the situation. There is that everpresent debate about working mothers vs stay at home mothers, and all I can say is- SOD your debate. I hate the fact I have to go back to work, but I also know that I need to provide for my family. If it was a choice between feeding/clothing/putting-a-roof-over-our-heads and singing nursery rhymes all day, I would inevitably love to be at home, but still be torn that I have to walk out the door every day to make that mulah. Its ultimately a choice between paying the bills and spending time with my son, and I hate that I am even compelled to make the decision. This is agony. I know I have to grow up and face the situation like the capable woman that I am, but I am not ready, and I don't think I will ever truly be happy no matter what choice I take. Lets hope Baby M fares better than I do

World class traveller

It was somewhere over Afghanistan, as I was sitting on Singapore Airlines flight SQ321, holding my screaming infant, tired, exhausted and slightly delirious, that I realised that flying to the other side of the world (on my own) with a tiny baby was absolutely the worst, stupidest and most ridiculous idea I have ever had. I could see the eyes being rolled, the exasperation and the slightly pursed lips of  fellow passengers as I tried every trick in the book to pacify Baby M (short of elephant tranquiliser). This was utter hell. Yet, I couldn't quite complain as we finally landed in Singapore and turned up at the oh-so-amazing Crowne Plaza hotel. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt like I could relax. Facing 30 degree heat, delicious pan asian cusine and decor to make an urbanite like me to swoon, I felt like I could stay forever. Baby M absolutely loved the swimming pool, the attentive waiters and screamed in delight when we visited Sentosa Island and chilled with cocktails on the beach. It was a short transit, but I felt like I could face the remaining 8 hours onwards to Sydney where my parents would be awaiting with their grandparent love and endless cuddles. Im turning my little man into a world class traveller. 5 star only please!