In reference to recent musings concerning the direction of my blog I have made a decision. I’ll be posting musing on education, my PhD and all manner of associated issues on Scots Whit?. 

I have written, and deleted, a post on division of labour: specifically in terms of housekeeping/childcare within families where both parents work. Why did I delete it? Well, it came across like a pity party for one. 

To give you a bit of background: I work full time in an emotionally draining environment, sometimes I have to bring work home but it’s not the norm; my husband works full time (and then some), in a job which not only requires him to work at home in the evening but calls for frequent trips to London; we have two children who attend primary school as well as breakfast and after school clubs. In our family I am the sole driver so I take the children to breakfast club in the morning, pick them up from aftercare in the evening (also due to the fact that I finish work considerably earlier than my husband) and ferry them around to the various clubs, lessons and parties that they attend. I also do the majority of the homework, housework (though by no means all of it) and shopping. 

A recent Twitter comment got me thinking: have we fallen into the trap of socialised gender roles? I’m not sure that this is a question I can answer.

Instead I pose another question—is it possible to find balance? Were my husband to play a greater role in homemaking, his share of the load would be far greater than mine. He doesn’t work longer hours because he is a man; he works longer hours because that is what his job demands. I don’t cook the dinner because it’s my wifely responsibility: I do it because I’m home in time to do it. Were we to share the homemaking evenly, would I be tucked up in bed while he’s still at the washing-up until the wee small hours?

It would seem that gender has little to do with it, and yet it still feels like the work/life balance is unequal. The children are not my responsibility; they are our responsibility. His job commands so much of his time that I am scared he is missing important events and experiences in our children’s lives. Thinking back to my own childhood, this was an accepted part of family life. The man was the breadwinner and often missed school and extra curricular events due to work commitments. This isn’t helped in our case by the fact that the vast majority of school events take place during normal working hours, rather than in the evening when we could both attend.

Have things really changed so little, or are my perceptions skewed by our respective choice of career (and a school which seems to assume parents are out of work)?

When life becomes a little overwhelming I run. In a break from my normal routine, I’ve stepped off the treadmill and out into the real world. Scotland isn’t exactly known for it’s stunning weather but I’m finding that this suits me. So far I have run in the cold, the wind and the (torrential) rain. Today I ran in the fog. It felt like the end of the world. I shrugged off all preoccupations and all expectations and ran (not very fast) until my legs felt like lead and my breath ripped out in rags. Tonight I feel better; sore, but better.

I used to write. When I was at school I had notebooks overflowing with teenage angst ridden poetry, sections from novels never completed and cliched short stories. My notebooks went everywhere with me and I would spend hours a day pouring both head and heart onto the paper. I would never claim to be an outstanding writer but I enjoyed it. University changed that for me. Studying literature meant that the hours I spent crafting were quickly taken over by pulling apart the work of others. I lost the motivation for creating anything of my own and so I ceased to write fiction. Academic writing took over and after I completed my undergraduate degree I undertook postgraduate research. My MPhil ended 7 years ago but the urge to write never returned. As the PhD rapidly approaches I’m becoming excited about the reading and the research but the writing terrifies me. 

Now I teach young people how to write. I expose them to a variety of literature; from bog standard school faire like Of Mice and Men and Romeo and Juliet, to less well travelled (in a secondary school context) work such as Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, Iain Banks’ The Wasp Factory and an array of graphic novels. I guide them through a maze of vocabulary, grammar and literary techniques while urging them to avoid pitfalls which, too frequently, pepper my own writing.

Today I am asking myself if I am really qualified to do this? 

Another week, another school holiday. I’m hoping that this time I’ll manage to avoid the lurgy and get to spend time doing fun things with the children. The past few weeks have sped by in a blur of work and little people. In between I am reading and watching trashy American TV. 

So, what of the PhD I hear you ask? I received an offer letter a few weeks ago and will begin in January. I’m still debating whether or not I should start a new blog to chart my progress in that endeavour, but until that happens…

In an return to purpose I have been baking again. Ginger loaf has become an obsession of mine and I have yet to find, what I think of, as a definitive recipe. This week’s attempt came from an article by Nigel Slater which I stumbled upon. It’s a very light cake which tastes great, I’m just not convinced it had the depth of flavour I was looking for. I’ll just need to sample another piece.

For the last 3 days (and judging by the way I’m feeling right now there’s more to come) I have been confined to my sick bed. This is strange because I’m never really, seriously ill. Unfortunately this has coincided with the September weekend. The kids and I had plans to do ‘stuff’ during this, the first of the school holidays. Instead they have been looking after themselves to some extent. I half expected it to go all Lord of the Flies but they have really surprised me. Instead they have entertained themselves through den building, imaginative play, board games, TV and movies. They have been kind and considerate and, for the most part, have played well together. I feel monumentally guilty about not spending quality time with them this weekend but I’m so proud of the way they have coped with me being ill. 

I’m still waiting to hear back from university regarding my PhD and I’m starting to get nervous. I’m in a state of limbo; finding it difficult to focus on anything in particular while I await a decision. Luckily I have something wonderful to occupy my time.

I always said I didn’t really want a Kindle but, living in a small flat, the pile of books beside my bed, in the living room, in the cupboard, was beginning to get a bit much. Since this rather wonderful gift from my husband I have been doing a lot of this:

I’m finding that my obsession with ‘trash’ literature is waining and I’m enjoying trawling through some classics. Having completed a literature degree, and being an English teacher, I’m embarrassed to say that I haven’t read widely in a great many genres. The Kindle is helping me to over come this. I have to get my trash fix somewhere though and have become addicted to BBC Three. 

You may have noticed a period of absence on my part.  This was deliberate. Rather than life getting in the way, which is so often the case chez moi, I’ve been planning and plotting *insert maniacal giggling* a change in direction. I’m still cooking and baking, now more than ever, but I no longer have the urge to blog about it in detail. However, there is something on the horizon; something exciting and life changing. The PhD application was submitted at the beginning of August and I’m awaiting a decision as to whether or not I’ll be embarking on this monumental undertaking in the near future. This is something I am passionate about. Something I want to blog about. Something I want to document. And so I have a decision to make: to continue with this blog or to start anew. I’m in two minds about it because I’ve become attached to the felinedream persona but I’m also ready to break away from that part of my life and face new challenges. 

I leave you with a picture of another new challenge. Yes, that’s right, my youngest child started school this year.