I would like to dedicate this blog post to our friend Andrew, who point blank refuses to attend any kids’ parties organised in a play centre. The following article will mostly be relevant to parents based in Derbyshire and Yorkshire area.
I have been meaning to write this post for ages, but things always got in the way, so I have taken a week off work to catch up on life, but I think I need to get it out of my system first, before all the things on my to-do list get in the way. I am a mother of a single baby, and this is where it ends. How do I feel about it?
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I don’t know who first asked me this question but I remember I never had a fixed idea as to what I would like to do professionally. I wanted to write, so somehow ended up studying English language and reading more classics than a sane teenager would commit to having the option of going out instead.
It’s been a while since I posted anything. I was meant to be away in Wales now, relaxing on the beach, posting casual, chilled selfies of the perfect family life on Facebook. Instead I am home, eating kebab, sitting on the sofa, wearing pink, fluffy slippers, wondering where did it all go wrong.
I finally landed in the UK. Back from a short break in the beautiful, Polish countryside, I had to endure a flight back home, and God only knows how I hate flying. You are putting the trust in someone else’s hands completely, hoping the pilot’s 40th birthday party wasn’t yesterday or that no one made him feel suicidal today. I am not a happy flier I tell ya.
I see many photographers change the way they respond to their clients to a first person, because it’s “only them” doing all the shooting, editing, organising. “I’ll get back to you”, “I’ll send those files today”.. I haven’t got an assistant. I’d love one, but working with me would be one of those jobs people mention in their suicide notes as a trigger that made them end their life. I am not a people’s person, I love working alone, but I run a “WE” kinda business. Here’s why.
How many times have you heard men say “I don’t understand women!” They seem to think all we want is to buy new shoes and drink frappuccinos, they believe we are all always taking forever to get ready and think this cliché joke is still funny. They think all we want to do is spend days rummaging through antique markets in search of trinkets we could fill our cupboards with. Although this may be true, these are only small things and the big stuff seemingly goes unnoticed.
As I was putting my 2.5 year old daughter to bed tonight, this paradox of parenting was going through my head, and quite possibly it will be nagging me for ages unless I let it all out and set it free, so here it is: I really don’t like parenting.
Two years have passed since I started charging for this hobby of mine, and there is a lot of things I have learnt over this period of time that I wish I had known before I started, so here’s a few of them for your reading pleasures guys.