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149: Blank Space

Following my last blogpost*, which has been lovingly referred to those close to me as "bodycon-gate", Lady B has been kept more on her toes than I can barely keep on top of. August into September has been mega super busy for the kitchen, as well as for Lady B often providing the biccies AND going to the event. Pretty much, some would say (including me), living the proverbial career dream. That said, it has kept me hovering on a level where I was so tired this week, that I fell asleep during root canal treatment. Yep, you read right, ROOT CANAL. Granted, it was a dozing state, but I still managed to reach that state whilst having my best mate's Dad (he's a dentist not just randomly helping me out with my teeth on a whim) pull around on my gums and my teeth for forty five minutes. Keen to spend whatever free time I have with Mini B, I reluctantly stay up late to finish off whatever packaging needs to be done (there has been a wild spate of individually wrapped orders, in large quantities too). I'd hazard a guess I've been sleeping near on the same amount as when Mini B was a newborn. We all know this sleep to be manageable but not sustainable, often resulting in spilt milk - literally - clothes put on back to front / inside out, and dire times of can-I-do-one-more-trip-whilst-on-the-red-or-will-I-actually-run-out-of-petrol?

It's also been a mega four weeks where I've been struggling to not be somewhere and wish I was somewhere else. I've literally had so many conversations with so many interesting and likeminded people, I can't remember who said that to me and I went "god yes, that, exactly that"... but THAT. When I checked into my hotel-that-wasn't-a-hotel (it was an apartment but I preferred my reference) for the Small Business Saturday Ball, I felt a little glum; I was all on a "get me having a whole night in the city to myself" sort of high. And yet, I checked in dead on the same time it would be dinner-bath-bed, and found myself at a loss. No "nighttime hour" requirement from CBeebies, rather, I could watch whatever I wanted. The glumness only lasted some twenty minutes, aka as long as it took for the first glass of bubbles to settle. A whole night, in the city, "working", and then getting a lie in... Umm, yes. THAT. 

And yet, come 5.40am, Lady B woke (after having got to bed shy of 3am) with a god awful hangover - the kind where you can just delicately taste the night before's dinner on your tongue, and where moving too quickly has you worried that maybe, maybe it'll reappear. Oh bugger.  And I honestly, didn't even drink that much. Honest. Lady B knows this to be true because I whatsapp Lady Cashew Sapphire to check. She concurs. And is also awake pre 6am with the same issue. And yes, annoyingly, I am normally awake at this time making a strong coffee, firing off a few quick emails before trying to get a shower alone before Mini B wakes - not that I don't love a shower where Mini B sits "reading" her bath books to me and singing "row row row your boat" but sometimes, washing your hair in peace is just a little slice of solitary heaven, ain't it.  

But my point; wishing I was doing dinner-bath-bed and yet when doing that, wishing I was getting myself glammed up for some evening where I schmooze and "captain" a table before having some band member tell me I'm "way old - jeez, love". (Yeah, that last bit, not something I needed reminding of from a 24 year old who was hitting on every older woman he could, but hey - win some, lose some, wasn't Raa Raa on repeat, was it?)

I've been struggling with the working mama thing, I can't lie. These last few weeks have been pretty non stop relentless with work which is a conflicting set of emotions. I adore what I do, we know this, and it's taken some time and much perseverance for me to get to where I'm at. LBP is also at the stage where I am itching to do more, and it's running around in my head at all hours. I chose this life-work balance for just that, to have the balance. But sometimes you gotta ride the wave, and sometimes that means the balance is a bit off. I've been walking away as I've dropped Mini B with Mother Mooncake or at nursery, and welling up. Maybe I'm over sensitive at the moment, maybe there's a load going on and I'm getting a lack of "normal" sleep meaning I just want to cry pre 10am because I've only managed half a cup of cold coffee. Or maybe, Captain Obvious, I'm just struggling.

No hiding from it; whatever you chose, whatever you hope pans out; you feel the guilt, you feel the conflict, and moreover, you realise this shit is really hard - whatever your set up. 

Mama Acorn, my life guru generally, has been on hand a lot recently to hear me out when I've been spinning; she's pretty great, she's pretty sensible, she's pretty wise. She told me I need to change something; that something will give eventually because carrying on like "this" can not last. Right, as ever. I then went on to spend two days ignoring all whatsapps, avoiding social media and falling down a hole of "meh". The result? I can't tell you, I'm still deep in it. BUT I think the answer lies in - dare I say it - being mindful (sorry Lady Schmidt). 

That said, if anyone has an answer - not necessarily "the" answer - please share it with me. I'd love to hear it. Being a mama is one of the proudest things I've ever done; it makes me feel like nothing is impossible, even root canal and getting to state of relaxation (aka exhaustion) that falling asleep is possible. But working, working (most recently chatting with Snapchat, no less) makes me feel like I'm achieving something that maybe one day, Mini B can be proud of me for.

 

Maybe women can't have it all, but my god, we can give it a damn good go. 

So I turn to Swifty, who has been my ever constant soundtrack for the last four weeks. She just writes good pop music. Soz. 

* A whopping thanks muchly for the love and nice words you sent Lady B's way following the last post. For those I know, those I barely know, and those I don't know at all, it was touching, comforting and strangely empowering. Thank you. 

Update on whether I've worn "the" bodycon  again: no. I did consider it. I put it on. I took it straight off. But I have got an appointment with a dietician at the local hospital lined up. Boom. 

Be good and bake well, 

Lady Bakewell-Park 

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