First things first

This is the blog of a working mother of three (Atticus, age 5, Allegra, age 4, and Diggory, age 22 months), the things I've learnt along the way, the things I struggle with day-to-day, the things I think I've cracked and the things I truly haven't. Like feeling guilty. Like feeling that there's never enough of me. Like knowing that I need some downtime but failing to do much about it because there's always so much to do...
I don't have the answers (I'm hoping you might supply those), but I do know that all my working mother friends are crying out for somewhere to talk, to download, to exchange ideas. Because it's really tough, but it's also really worth it, and whilst the idea of 'having it all' is meaningless because none of us would agree on what 'all' is, we can, surely, learn from each other to get some balance. At least I hope I can.
A bit about me... I'm a writer. Which is great; it means I work from home most of the time and I get to see my children much more than I would if I was in an office an hour's commute away. But it also means I have serious boundary issues (there are none differentiating 'work' from 'home'). It means I get to go to book festivals, have to travel up and down the country to give author talks to fantastic teenagers, but it also means being away from home for days at a time. It means that some days I can drop everything and play in the garden, but around deadline time I work around the clock and because I'm self-employed there's no such thing as annual leave (or maternity leave, for that matter). I'm not complaining - if I was, you'd be justified in shooting me. I love what I do. LOVE IT. Just like most of my working friends love what they do, too. But that doesn't make it any easier when I'm walking out the door to the sound of crying because one of my children is ill and I can't stay home to be with them because I have a commitment elsewhere.
Why the title? Two phones and a packet of wet wipes? Well, that's one of the things I've learnt. See, I used to get into a whole lot of trouble with my phone. Like, always having it on, always checking it. I'd be with my children, trying to give them my full attention but instead I'd be scrolling through emails and checking my editor hadn't called with her feedback on my latest manuscript. Or I'd be with my agent having a discussion about Brazilian publishers and we'd be continually interrupted by pictures of my children being texted to me by my nanny (which, naturally, I'd be desperate to share immediately and have to literally sit on my hands to stop myself from interrupting the conversation to do so).
I love my iphone; it's a portable work station and it's got everything on it from photographs to contact details to my calendar. At least it used to. The problem is, one minute the phone was freeing me up, and the next it was weighing me down because it NEVER STOPPED.
Which is why these days I have two mobiles. I know. Streamlining is all, and here I am adding a second phone into the equation. Ridiculous, huh? Not to mention expensive. But it's worth it. Totally worth it. I have a work phone, and I have a home phone. Key people have both numbers (my husband and my nanny), but mostly I just give out one: the home mobile number goes to other mothers, family, friends. The work number goes to everyone I work with. Agents, librarians, editors, publicists, television and radio researchers. It helps keep me sane, and, perhaps more importantly, it helps me slip into the correct identity. Work me, Home me. It sounds simple, but it really isn't easy making the switch, whether I'm going from adrenaline-fuelled work me to *in my dreams* patient, fully-engaged mother, or going from chilled out mother *wearing-sweats-and-ugg-boots-that-are-covered-in-various-unidentifiable-goo-stains* to totally-focused author talking with very clever people on the radio. Ever had to have a conversation with your boss or client on the telephone with an 18 month old hanging from your shoulder whilst another child (or more) is/are screaming in the background? You'll know what I mean, then. The two don't mix. At all.
As for the wet wipes, well, do I really have to explain? I never carried them before I had children. Now I don't leave the house without them, mostly because I can always guarantee that however much I try, I will always fail to spot that blob of snot/gunge that has been deposited on me just as I walk out of the door. And it's a personal thing, but I find Huggies wipes to be the best. Nicest texture, and they don't split.
So there we have it. Hope you enjoy. And please get in touch...
Gemma