The Work/Life Balance

I lost my rag with the garage man yesterday. He had failed to phone to tell me that the compressor for my Range Rover hadn't turned up.

"Don't you realise that I have only twenty hours a week in which to earn enough to support my family?" I shouted. "I have bust a gut to get here an hour earlier than I need have, and all for nothing!"

To fill that hour, I should have gone to Costa's for a Skinny Cappuccino, to contemplate what I had said. Instead I went searching for half-price offers in the Co-op, even though I'd had a Tesco delivery earlier in the day, and as a result, was still late to pick Beloved Daughter up from school.

But I've thought about it since. The reason why I am permanently stressed and in a hurry, is because I visit the health club twice a week, ride my horses twice a week and muck them out most days, watch a child playing in a sports match once a week, and restrict myself to one 'Lady Who Lunches' a week. And by 'support the family' I mean 'earn enough to pay my half of the children's private school fees'.

I suspect I ought to feel ashamed of myself for being so horrid. If the nice man knew the real reasons as to why every hour means so much to me, I don't suppose he would be very sympathetic. Perhaps I need to visit a Life Coach. But of course I don't have the time.

Managing Expectations
 
My ten year old daughter  had 'the worst day of my life' yesterday.

So bad that she hid in the linen cupboard, and then ran away, for the first time ever, onto the open snow-clad moor, despite her fear of sheep.

Her day went thus:

Lie-in until 9.30am, then a warmed pain au chocolat and glass of apple juice brought to her in bed.

Out to slide on the ice at the bridge outside our gate, with her little girl friend  from next door.

Met by Mummy, armed with coca-cola, hula-hoops and jaffa cake bars for lunch.

The Dartmoor Hill Pony Display team meeting, organised and attended by oldschool friends aged 10 - 15 preparing a performance for Devon County Show.

A practice run-through, followed by tobogganing, as the sun set over the snowy Dartmoor hills, and the ponies nuzzled the laughing girls in the sledging field.

A drive to Exeter Services to meet my son's lift-share back to school, where Daughter chose chicken nuggets and chips from Burger King for supper.

A long soak in an oilatum-filled bath, followed by bed.

The problem was that her friend from next door had only played for ten minutes before deciding to go home, and I had almost immediately made the error of discussing the possibility that Daughter might board for a few nights at school, if the snow continued. So she decided to refuse to go to the pony-meeting she had been looking forward to so much - and disappeared.

So often, it seems to me that one's happiness is reliant on one's expectations. Maybe it's better to be a glass half empty person and then you must be almost permanently pleasantly surprised!

PS Sometimes my children's diets are a little more healthy than that described above!