back to school...

How did that go so fast? Summer is pretty much over, in school terms if not in weather terms, and already I'm getting palpitations as I pull together all the various bags of uniform and realise that none of it fits. I'm convinced my kids are part plant; the sun seems to make them grow. Christmas holiday, not at all. Summer holiday, inches all round.
And it's funny, in some ways I'm looking forward to them going back, having them out of the house, knowing they're fully occupied every day and not having to book various camps and activities. But in reality, it feels like I'm the one going back to school. We're going to be back to military regimes every morning, homework after school, checking and double checking school bags each day, working out how to collect three different children at different times/from different places, deciding how many clubs and after school activities they're allowed to do...
It's exhausting even thinking about it.
But more than any of that, it's that they're getting bigger. Birthdays are milestones, but for me September has always been the critical month. Back to school, new academic year, everything more serious somehow. It's exciting, watching them turn into little people. Or, rather, big people.
But sometimes I miss the pre school days, the little bundles running about, happy to spend the morning sorting washing.
Then again, those were the days of sleepless nights and tearing my hair out when, once again, I got little or no work done.
Okay, back to school it is. Now where are all those name tapes?

So how do you cope with the summer break?

We're, what, nearly mid way through? So how are you coping? Who is keeping your children entertained? I've done a straw poll of friends and acquaintances and it seems to be a mixture of grandparents, holiday camps, favours and meltdowns.
As one close friend put it: 'I want my children to enjoy the kind of summers I did - long lazy days spent outside, learning to ride their bikes or something. And instead I feel like I am handing them over to whoever will take them just so that I can get to work on time.'
The truth is that summer is probably one of the hardest times on working parents. Christmas you can take a few days off. Easter, it's usually raining anyway, and the short break can be managed with some annual leave and a few activities. But summer? Summer isn't just a holiday. It's a lifestyle event. It's lifestyle magazine photographs of families lazing around together, freckly children mucking about in the garden with go-karts and home-made lemonade. Summer is when the stay at home mother comes into her own, with picnics and days out, all so much easier when the sun is shining. The working parent, on the other hand, often watches miserably from within their air-conditioned office, wondering if they've made the right choices.
'I always start thinking about giving it all up in the summer,' confides another close friend. 'And it's not just about the children; pre-children I used to spend summers wistfully thinking about going freelance so I could control my own hours and hang out in the garden. But having a family has just intensified this longing. I know it's not realistic, but I have such a yearning to be at home, putting on the sprinkler and watching my children lark about instead of packing them off to yet another activity camp.'
And holidays is where having multiple children can often complicate things further. 'We have a full time nanny,' one friend explains, 'but she's pretty much looking after our 18 month old who needs naps and routine. Our six year old can just about tag along, but our nine year old needs way more stimulation. I end up shipping in each set of grandparents for two weeks each over the summer, as well as arranging activity camps, otherwise I come home to find everyone climbing up the walls. Then my partner and I take three weeks of annual leave, and that pretty much covers it. But I don't know what I'd do without my parents and his.'
And that's with the luxury of a full time nanny. 'I get into work late throughout the summer holiday,' a good friend tells me resignedly. 'I send my two boys to an activity camp but it doesn't open until 8.30am and it's further away from the station than their school. In term time I'm on the train by 8.15am after dropping the boys off at breakfast club; during the holidays I have to get the 9am train. And I have to leave earlier, too, to pick them up. Fortunately my manager is supportive and I make up the work in the evening or at weekends. But I hate it. And I also hate arriving to pick them up and finding that they're the last ones there.'
So what's the answer? An end to the long break? Michael Gove, Education Secretary, certainly wants this. But would it really make things easier or would it just create many more shorter holidays to contend with? And would our children be better off? I'm not convinced. The truth is, maybe a bit of extra hassle organizing activities is worth it. Have a look at your chidlren. Are they happy? Are they enjoying the summer? Are they relaxed and carefree and learning new skills? Good, so stop beating yourself up.
'I love the long holiday,' a friend (who works long hours in an investment bank) tells me, without a flicker of irritation or guilt. 'I feel like I can almost watch the kids grow; they really come alive. They go to a wonderful activity camp that they love, and there's no uniform to worry about, no homework... I wouldn't change it for anything.'
Happy holidays...:)

Holidays...

Ah, summer. A proper summer for once, not two hours of warm weather followed by a gust of wind, a cloud, then torrential rain. This is what I remember of summer when I was young - endless weeks of sun, hanging out in the garden, by the local outdoor pool. The summer holiday defined each year as I grew up; it was during the summer holiday that I fell in and out of love, hung out with my friends, and, away from the relentless routine of term time, figured out who I was and what I wanted to do with my life.
But the long summer break is also, let's be honest, a pain in the butt for working parents. Week upon week to fill, to find cover for, to occupy and, hopefully, educate a bit.
And now change may be on the horizon; Michael Gove is encouraging schools to break free of the shackles of the traditional three term and long summer holiday. He envisions a future where schools work to their own timetable, perhaps with four terms and shorter holidays, or possibly just much longer terms.
Which should be great news for working parents. So why am I not convinced? I think, if I'm honest, because when it comes to childhood I'm a romantic at heart. I want for my children what I had; I want them to enjoy these precious years. I want them to get bored and be forced to be creative, inventing games, turning cardboard boxes into spaceships or hospitals. As they get older I want the long summer holiday to be the time they turn to books, discovering whole worlds and characters. I want summer holidays to be turning points, like they were for me: learning to ride my bike one year; conquering a particularly high tree in the park the next; being allowed to walk around to my friend's house ON MY OWN the year after that... And I know that the reality isn't going to be like that; mostly they'll be doing various activity camps to keep them amused. My parents were teachers; child care wasn't a major issue whereas most working parents have to rope in grandparents, neighbours and others to help them through. But still I feel that a long summer break is important.
The truth is that education has ratcheted up in the past few years. There are exams virtually every year; the pressure starts much younger. And with university fees increasing, students are going to want to get bang for their buck on their degree courses; already, universities are looking to condense degree courses to one or two years, and why not? If you're paying for your degree and getting into serious debt, the sooner you can get out and get working, the better.
But where is the time for growing up? Where is the time for contemplating your navel, exploring new ways of doing things, challenging your parents' value system, discovering the world? I did all of those things and some. I took a year out, and then studied philosophy at university. How many children of the future will be able to do that? To study a subject for three whole years that has no direct relevance in the workplace? Very few I suspect. Instead they will go straight from exams at school to an 18 month degree course in something that will make them super-employable, and then they'll be into the world of work. Which is great. Obviously. God knows our economy could do with highly skilled, motivated young people joining the (hopefully soon to be growing) work place.
But before they get to that point, I hope they can at least hold on to their endless summers stretching ahead, full of promise and potential, shedding the skin of the previous academic year, ready to start anew in September, refreshed, replenished.
And it also means that the bitter pill of summer ending is sweetened slightly by the prospect of your child/children finally going back to school...

Sales shopping

So fortuitously, the sales are on just as the weather has hotted up, meaning that I can buy all my summer clothes at a bargain price. Or, you know, more summer clothes. I might, just might, have got a bit carried away back in February when I somehow felt that if I bought some sandals and breezy linen trousers, then Spring would surely follow.
Still, a mere five months later, the sandals and trousers are just perfect:)
The truth is, I'm never averse to a spot of shopping. I like to think it's my gathering instinct, honed over many thousands of years. My trouble is working out what to buy and what not to, because I have a multiple personality when it comes to clothes. Dungarees and clogs? Love 'em. Skinny jeans and leather jacket? Totally. DVF wrap dress with power heels? Fabulous!
I mean, sure, everyone has a slight split personality when it comes to clothes - usually divided down the lines of work clothes, home clothes and going out clothes. But I seriously envy people who have a look and stick to it. And I also know that when it comes to the workplace, these things matter.
Corporate brands don't waver between different looks and feels. Successful brands are utterly clear in the minds of everyone who comes into contact with them: what they look like, feel like, what they represent. It makes decisions easy, because new directions/opportunities are only considered if they fit the brand values.
And, stretching a rather tenuous analogy, the same is kind of true when it comes to getting dressed. If all your clothes fit the same 'brand' (I'm not talking clothing designers/shops here. I'm talking look and feel), then they will probably all work together and provide zillions of outfits. Whereas if items are all bought individually, according to a whim, then, well, they probably won't.
More to the point, if you have a look, people know who you are. Your manager, clients, the teams you manage. And that's a good thing at work. Too much wavering in the wardrobe department suggests a lack of confidence. Too much chopping and changing suggests a mind that is not entirely focused on work.
Which is why I have decided to take action. To decide who I am, or, perhaps more realistically, what I would like to project. Do I want to feel like Fiona Bruce (classic) when I'm walking down the street? Audrey Hepburn (ingenue)? Tilda Swinton (avant garde)? Emmanuelle Alt (editor of French Vogue, and rocks a skinny jean better than anyone on the planet. With blazers and heels so very work-friendly. I think she'll have to go in as rock chick)?
Big, important questions which I shall obviously spend hours deliberating on:)
In the short term, however, I'm getting my colours done. No, not my hair. I'm being analysed by a colour specialist to determine which colours suit me and which I should avoid like the plague. WHich will at least, hopefully, explain partly why some clothes purchases sit in my wardrobe and never get worn because they never feel quite right.
I shall report back...

End of term

Is it me or does it feel like this school term has flown by in a matter of minutes? The weather doesn't help; I don't feel like we've actually turned the corner yet, am still waiting for the day that I feel that yes, now I can finally pack away all the coats for a few months. But actually I think it's the relentless routine, the frantic mornings, the urgent deadlines, work crammed into the hours available, then home, sleep, and it all starts again.
But that wasn't the point of this blog post. No, my subject du jour is End of Term, and what I mean by that is all the lovely events that herald this date. Sports day. School production. Things you don't want to miss, things that you want to record, and play for your squirming child when they have reached the grand old age of eighteen.
But can you make it? What if you do manage to book a day off, then it rains and it's rearranged for a day when you're presenting something important and can't get away? Will your child grow up angry and withdrawn if you fail to make it to anything, or are we actually heaping way too much pressure on ourselves to make every single thing? How many of you are brave enough to give your child a kiss, tell them that they'll be brilliant but that mummy has a meeting she can't miss, and wave them off? And is that child going to be more or less resilient, more or less attention seeking than the child who's parents attend every single thing they're in?
I mean, hey, don't listen to me, because I'm the one who moves heaven and earth and goes to EVERYTHING. But, actually, last year I didn't make sports day. Not because of work, but because my youngest saw fit to throw himself back on his new high chair (since binned), which wasn't massively stable and propelled him backwards so he smacked down on the tiled floor. Not a great thing to happen at 7.30am. Fortunately he was fine, but I had to take him to A&E just in case, which meant no one to cheer on my eldest as he competed in... well, whatever he competed in. I wasn't there, remember?
And did he care? Does he even remember now? No, he doesn't.
There's a moral in there somewhere.
But in the meantime, I've got a calendar to organise...

Feminism? Has it become a dirty word?

So I was reading The Times at the weekend and read an interview with Annabel Karmel, she of the hugely successful baby food empire, and she said that she wasn't a feminist. Not a feminist? How? Why?
It got me thinking. Because if she, head of a huge business, is 'not a feminist' (in spite of the fact that, if it wasn't for feminism, she would never have been allowed to trouble herself with complicated things like supply chains and growth strategies), then either she believes feminism isn't needed anymore, or it's become such a dirty word she doesn't want to be associated with it.
Which is tragic because feminism is so totally needed and it shouldn't be a dirty word, but somehow it's become associated with anti-men lobbies, with strident militarism, with anger and vitriol. When really, surely, feminism is about equal opportunities. I have two boys and one girl, and I have the same hopes and aspirations for them all: happiness, love a fulfilling career. Only fifty years ago, women were forced to give up their jobs when they got married. For years afterwards a woman couldn't get a mortgage without a man to guarantee it. Sure, there are women in boardrooms now, and women politicians. But old habits die hard and few workplaces have yet completely thrown off their all-male legacies; late night working is still lauded, and nights out at strip joints are still acceptable so long as clients are there.
The trouble is, we disagree on what the problems are and we also disagree on the solutions. On the one hand, I welcome extended maternity leave and flexible working for mothers. On the other hand, I can see the huge burden this puts on businesses (particularly small to medium size businesses) and how employers might start to favour male workers. In the States, where maternity leave tends to be around 3 months, there are more women in senior positions; in European countries where up to 2 years maternity leave is available, hardly any women work in the private sector, and the vast majority work part time. Is this progress? I'm really not sure.
Equal opportunities are, of course, now enshrined in law, but it's society that really dictates what is acceptable. Women who work full pelt are lauded in the media but pitied at the same time; they must miss their children, their children must be missing out too. Nannies are discussed with raised eyebrows and high profile celebrities talk with pride about how they look after their own children, not mentioning the grandmother, housekeeper and tutors working full time behind the scenes to raise their children when they are on a film set 12 hours a day.
The reality is, there's no silver bullet. But that's because we are all different and want different things. Some women are desperate to get back to work a few months after giving birth; some fear the end of their maternity leave and start working out how quickly they need to get pregnant in order to minimise the time back in the office. But, and here's the real point of what I'm trying to say here, SO DO MEN, and this is where the revolution really has a chance of taking hold.
It's happening very, very gradually, but bit by bit, fathers can be seen pushing buggies around on a weekday; one by one they are appearing on the school run, slowing their careers right down so they can look after the children whilst their wives work full time. Usually it's down to economics; the highest earner continues earning whilst the lower earner does more child care. But sometimes it's just down to choice. Because not every woman enjoys domesticity, and not all men want to work full pelt and see their children only at weekends.
And the more men who make the choice to stay at home, the more it will become acceptable (and more fun for them, probably), the more future generations will have a genuine choice over who, if anyone, stays at home and what their childcare arrangements will look like. That is true equality of opportunity. That is surely the win win that we all want?
Once we can start seeing people as people instead of stereotypes, then true equality has a chance; once the government understands that it isn't always women who want to stay at home with the baby, once men start feeling they have a genuine choice in the matter, then I will relax.
Until then, I am very proud to say that I am a feminist.

One child policy?

So according to the journalist and author Lauren Sandler, writers should stick to one child if they don't want to limit their careers.
Actually, that's a bit disingenuous. She didn't write exactly that in The Atlantic, but the headline ('The secret to being both a successful writer and a mother: have just one kid') made out that she did and she certainly spoke in reverential terms about writers who all had just one child.
Really? I mean... really?
Sure, the fewer distractions you have, perhaps the more energy you have to throw into your work - whether that's writing books or running your country. And when you're struggling to get three young children into a car/along the road/anywhere, frankly, mothers walking serenely down the road with one perfectly behaved child can look, well, appealing.
But one child can require way more input than two. They need playdates, they need input, they need activities. Two or three children just need a blanket to make a den and they're off. We have just installed a trampoline in our garden. Our three children bounce themselves stupid for hours at a time, throwing balls to one another, taking it turns to lie flat whilst the others bounce them up and down (please don't tell the health and safety police). If we had just one, I guarantee I'd be out there a whole lot more bouncing with them, playing the games that my three make up as they go along.
My head sometimes spins from the 'To Do' list that three young children entails. And I know as they get older, and life becomes more serious for them, I will be needed more and more to help with big decisions, to listen to their worries, to steer, and guide and sometimes lay down the law (no, you are not going to a house party you read about on facebook...). But that doesn't preclude having space in my head for work, too. Nor does it reduce my ambition. Not remotely.
Actually, it does the opposite. Shopping for three children is eye-wateringly expensive. Talking of which, I'd better get on with some work right now...