Snowflakes and snizzles

Outside it is snizzling. That is my new word for the combination of snowing and drizzling, although my brother might point out that the correct word is 'sleeting'. Having spent Mon-Weds at work, today is like being on holiday with the luxory of doing exactly what I like (so long as I'm confined to the house and within hearing distance of a screeching baby). Sadly we are all struck by colds...which with James means that his face is stuck to the mattress with snot in the mornings when I go to get him up, poor love. Hugo can wake the entire street when he blows his nose and I spend most of my time sneezing, which I admit, is quite nice.

I like a good sneeze.

A snizzle and a sneeze.

Ahem.

So, work. I thought I'd write about my first three days back since they have filled me with the leaden knowledge that without a doubt I need to find another job. I squeezed myself back into my smart size 10 work trousers (this is impressive for a reason you'll hear about in my next post), dropped James off at nursery (this involves taking his coat off, sitting him on the floor, scooping him up, covering him with kisses, putting him down again, half walking out of the room, racing back, scooping him up, covering him with kisses and reassurance that I'll be back soon, turning away, walking towards the door, ad infinitum). By the time I've raced through the 17 traffic lights that exist between his nursery and the car park, I'm almost in work mode and remember to wipe off the babysick / dribble / snot off my shoulder. The very best thing about being at work, is the coffee. And the fact that I can actually drink an entire cup from start to finish whilst 'checking my emails' (I've been away so long and no-one knows / gives a shit I'm back so this doesn't really take long) and reading the BBC site. So, Ben was in the office on Monday (miracle), and at 2pm he invited me to a small meeting room for a chat.

"I thought you'd never ask" I said, with a wink and a smile

Everyone laughed apart from Ben.

"WHAT did you say?" He asked

(Oh dear god, this is going to be a long morning)

"I said, "brilliant Ben, that would be great"

So, we sat down and he opened his pad. He looked at me, I looked at him. (I was going to ask, but thought better of it, whether his shirt was actually a fake shirt attached to his V neck woolly sleeveless jumper as it sort of moved as one, whenever he waved an arm about).

"So" he said.

"Your portfolio..."

And then he went on to tell me about one thing I would be working on, which bears no relation to anything he's mentioned in the past (although to be fair, he hasn't really mentioned much). He couldn't give me any objectives for me working on this project, he couldn't tell me what it entailed, just that it existed and to get on with it. I had to become an 'expert' on this subject matter. Now, I'm all one for being an expert on a subject but really, I could have done with a bit more info to get me going on this.

"What about the other projects in my 'portfolio'?" I asked. He immediately looked annoyed.

"Alice" he said/coughed/yelled

"You have to learn to walk before you can run"

Out of interest, has anyone been told this before and did you feel an overwhelming urge to SCREAM when you were patronised in this way? As a mature, confident mother, poet and now, seamstress, I held my breath. I was wondering how one project constituted a 'portfolio',which you've got to admit sounds quite exciting.

Anyhow, Ben had to go to a Very Important Meeting, so he stalked off, his collar making his woolly sleeveless vest stick out in a very unnatural way, and I went back to my desk to become an expert on this very boring subject.

So, that was Monday, and Tuesday and Wednesday saw me becoming an expert indeed, and also known to half the MSPs in Scotland as I fired out emails to them. This set off another chain of events where people who think they are in charge of something get wound up by other people (i.e. me) getting involved and inviting MSPs to events, and sure enough we ended up in a pretty confrontational situation with a colleague (also a skinhead and ex prison guard, i.e. don't mess) sort of shouting in a whisper (if that is possible), about being undermined by me being involved in this project that I have no choice about working on. Luckily, another collague, a trained karate chopper and probably the most diplomatic person on the floor, enticed him out to the cafe where no doubt cross words were exchanged. To be quite honest, I could be doing without all of this, and if Ben had one iota of a clue about what was going on in his team, it may have been avoided.

So, at the end of the day, be it 4.45pm or 5pm, when everyone else is off to Queen Street station to catch the last train back to Edinburgh (it's not the last train, but it's the last train they want to be on), I peg it to the car park (10 mins), go through 18 traffic lights (it's a one way system so there are more on the way back) and screech to a halt outside nursery at between 5.15 and 6pm. James is invariably in the cusp of a happy moment, being cuddled by a wonderful staff member or playing with another baby. He always looks a bit surprised to see me, then he squeaks (not to cry, but as a sort of "where HAVE you been mummy??") and then I scoop him up for real and we race back to the car, double parked with hazard lights flashing, and on to our home where I have about 3 minutes to defrost and cook some supper for him, race downstairs to get Hinba in from the garden and take everyone's coats off.

Hinba races about chasing her tail and 'shouting' (she literally squeals), James is jumping about in my arms and all I want to do is collapse on the sofa with a cup of tea.

So, for all those reasons, today is a godsend and I'm loving sitting here tapping away at my laptop, the snizzles outside still puffing away onto people's cars, and James having a good morning nap for this first time this week. Motherhood and work combo - it's not going to be easy but on the plus side, at least you remember what's actually important, and when you have confrontations with scary people at work, or when your boss can't remember what he's said to you in the last conversation and contradicts himself with ease at the next, I can at least think of James and know that nothing else matters, and everyone else can snizzle off.