Busy busy

It’s been a long time since I posted, but I’ve not had a lot of time to sit down and type something. I’m actually not doing that right now; this post is a combination of sloppy notes and night-time ramblings. Anyway, so much has happened, and very little has happened. It’s weird how it works like that. Finn is 5 and a half months now. I applied for my passport and am waiting to see if I’ve done it properly. I’m applying for jobs and will hopefully be working in April. I applied to courses online. I am sorting my work insurance out. I made friends. I got day care information. I cut my hair. All. This. Stuff. And. More.

However: I’m mind-numbingly bored. Looking after Finn all day is not easy, and sometimes my mind is completely blank. I don’t think being a housewife is a worthless job, I just think that my own perception of it is skewed. Firstly, I just came out of work. Changing from a violently deadline-driven existence to a stay-at-home milk machine is like falling flat on your face from a tree branch. I’m not saying it’s a demotion, but it really fucking hurts. It’s a smack of ‘real life’. What’s more ‘real life’ than being given an actual life to care for and nurture? Dunno. Secondly, I realize that I value myself based on what other people have to say about me. Meetings, reviews, essay feedback, students’ cute thank you notes... that’s how I know I’m worthy. Fast forward to Beth with baby: no reviews, no guidance, no weekly meeting. My boss can’t even speak yet, let alone give me a job description! Just because I don’t have constant praise doesn’t mean I’m doing a bad job, but I have lost the ability to rate myself. Using my normal person words, this would typically be described as ‘common sense’. The workplace requires a mold that is not easily melt down once it’s been sculpted, and this is the problem I’m facing now. I am pretty critical, so it’s strange to say that I cannot critique myself well. The clue is in the word ‘well’. The other clue is in my personality: severely strict on myself with a dash of indecisiveness. Thirdly and finally: time. It’s evil. It’s not even real... yet it is. Time is abundant right now, and I’m kind of drowning in it. I used to work by a set work schedule, goals, and all that other crap. Now I’m filling time with my own goals, but I don’t even know how to live properly yet! Regardless, this Mum thing is a never ending job with so many uncertainties that it’s hard to escape the feeling of either excitement or futility. 

Waaaaaa

Being so sympathetic to women, maybe Einstein saw the difference in time relativity in working all day and having your first child (lol Einstein you dick)... (think I’m too tired to be writing a blog post). This post has come to you from a stressed mum who needed time to talk about herself. It can be difficult to do that. The housewife thing is new to me, and it’s not just a job, it’s a lifestyle. It has shown me how easy and utterly unimportant a job is in comparison to taking care of a child. It infuriates me that I can’t explain how taking on this responsibility takes your sanity to its limit, and I’m sure there are people who believe I’m having the time of my life because I’m not at work (haaaaa). I am definitely having a time... of my life... for sure. Still, I need money, and despite my whining, I do enjoy teaching. On a lighter note, Finn is flourishing. His personality is basically all cheek and sass. When I feed him at night time I like to sing to him to calm him down, but recently he puts his hand in my mouth as if to shut me up. Thanks, kid. I get it. I can’t sing... 

This was us in a feeding room in Parco. I was talking. He didn’t like it.

We had a couple of crazy times when I called clinics and ended up going in. On each occasion it was the weekend, so I had no idea where to get info/where to go. I found a couple of addresses for emergency clinics and set off to them buuuuut.... Never. Never. Never again. I have since received an information phone number, which I’ll be using (I would have used such a thing in Britain, so I’m happy I know what it is now). On each occasion, we were told to come to the clinic to check Finn out. At almost every hospital I took him to, the doctor was - and I’m translating here so use your imagination....’gone’. I was turned away. Or given advice such as: ‘Well, what do you think?’ On one occasion in particular, Finn had blood all over his ear, was very upset, and his temperature was rising. A weekend clinic told me to go in. I had to wait two hours, travel for an additional 45 minutes, fill out all the paperwork, and then be turned away and told there was no where else I could go. The doctor was ‘gone’. I managed to get to a different clinic, but it was at the other side of the city. Not ideal. I understand that the weekend is tough, but I don’t appreciate being messed around when clinics are already sparse and I’m in total panic mode. It’s a good job I speak Japanese. It’s a good job I have friends. It’s a good job Finn wasn’t as bad as I thought, too. Next time I can just call a different number and get advice. I am more than happy with that! Rant finish. Restart looking after baby. 

#baby #mum #newmum #5months #nagoya #japan #Mumlife #rant