On having no regrets.

"No regrets" sang Robbie Williams. 

"Funny," I thought, singing along to the CD, "I have plenty of them."

Unwise impulsive choices and actions, ideas reconsidered with the benefit of hindsight, purchases that didn't deliver what they promised, dubious friendships...

But there are a couple of areas where I (surprisingly) don't have any second-guessing.

There's a young couple in my homegroup, married for two years and with a just-turned-one year old. And the lady has recently gone through a relatable dilemma about returning to work (when, how much for, if it's the right thing, etc).

What to do about work after we had Son 1 wasn't straightforward. I had a job I enjoyed but it was an hour's commute away, and when we went to look around a nursery it was staffed by what looked like sixth form students, and on the way out I cried and said I couldn't leave our baby there all day. Therefore my very supportive husband agreed I should contact HR to ask what would happen if I didn't return to my school after maternity leave (spoiler: we had to repay maternity money).

I was in the incredibly fortunate position in that we could just about afford for me to not work, and that Mike was really keen for our baby to have a parent at home caring for him, rather than be in a nursery. It felt like the right thing for us at that point.

But it was a tricky. NOT working? All the other mums in our antenatal class and all the mum friends I'd made at baby groups were going back to work.What did that make me? And what about when I DID want to go back - education keeps changing; would it be hard to be out of the loop?

So I sent out CVs to local schools saying I was looking for part-time work and quickly heard back from a brilliant school half a mile from my house - they had an English teacher off on long term sick and would employ me for whatever hours I could give. Thus began a happy decade of dabbling in local part-time work. 

The thing about working part-time and especially with the interruption of regular maternity leaves, is that you are frequently invited to renegotiate hours/contract. So there were frequent opportunities for chats with endlessly patient and supportive Mike about finances and medical appointments and what was viable, and soul-searching and self-doubt. Was the income of my little salary minus the outgoing of childcare for two littles even worth it? Was I working too little, showing my weakness, inability to cope, lack of commitment to education, being unrealistic about how much value I could bring to work? Or by continuing to work as our family grew to three, four, then five, did I show a lack of commitment to the home, whereas some of the other mums at church were joyfully fully embracing stay-at-home-mum life? Comparison is the thief of joy, and everyone is just doing their best with their own family set-up, but I'd look at inspiring full time working mums (like my own was) and think, "How are you doing this?!" Or at the stay-at-home-mums with their meal plans and crafting and intentional parenting and feel inadequate too.

More on mum comparison here: https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-wise-words-from-a-welsh-woman (it's actually pretty interesting to me how far I've moved on since writing this!)

It did feel like a constant juggle. Even though we were really very blessed to have a wonderful local and flexible childminder who basically became another member of the family, I still felt like I wasn't with the babies enough. And when the boys were ill and I didn't make it into work, and when I didn't run trips, didn't attend extra meetings, didn't apply for promotions, I felt like a second-class, less-committed teacher. One day I went to work on barely any sleep and complained to a friend I felt like I had the worst of both worlds: not being present enough or good enough in either role. 

How wrong I was! 

I was living my absolute best life! What an amazing privilege to still have time at home and be the boys' primary carer, AND to be able to keep my hand in at work. I saw controlled assessments go, new exam specs being written, and none of it was my responsibility to sort, but I had no gaps in employment history, no gaps in understanding the latest thing in secondary teaching. Meanwhile, I had enough time to give to eg co-running a toddler group, endless terrible crafts, visits to libraries and swimming pools. Absolute joy!

Maybe (probably?) I'm looking back with rose-tinted classes, because it was tough. Like, it was really exhausting. And it was hard to swallow my pride and see other younger teachers taking on promotions. But it WAS good. I truly believe now I had the best of both worlds, and I wouldn't change anything about how much or little I worked, and I am grateful to have had that time and flexibility, and so very grateful to Mike for working so hard and for supporting me and not resenting me with my part-time roles.

So when my homegroup friend was asking for prayer for wisdom and guidance about returning to her teaching job, and was considering two days a week, I was cheerleading her on: "Do it! Two days a week is perfect! The rest of the world has it the wrong way round! Five days to give to your family and two days to keep your hand in at teaching is absolutely optimal. Best of both worlds."

I think she's happy with her choices, they way I'm happy with mine, looking back.

And I kind of wish I could go back twelve years to tell my conflicted self how lucky I was, and that I would have no regrets.

More on the working mum struggle here: https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-parasites-and-rebuttals