Ive been on maternity leave for four yearsnot exactly by design, but you know how it is when theres only a year between the little ones. So, my job these days is keeping up with the kids and making sure no one eats a crayon. My husband works two jobs, weve managed to buy our own flat, so we get byno Harrods, but were not starving.
What had you accomplished by 25? My daughter already has a proper career, mind you, my mother-in-law piped up, casting a critical eye over my leggings and unmatched socks.
My sister-in-law is the glamorous one. Marriage? Far too pedestrian for her. Shes all about ambition these days: youth, beauty, cocktails on Southbank, and definitely not singing lullabies at two in the morning. Thats her path, good for her. I made my choice five years ago and traded spa days for soft play. Not that her career is much to write home about, mindshe spends more time griping about others luck than in any boardroom.
Shes not one to waste time, thoughalways off to city breaks, music festivals, and living the high life. Then, a month ago, she barrels into my kitchen with a request so urgent youd think Buckingham Palace had called her. Her boss is taking maternity leave, and they need a temp. Whoever submits the best proposal gets to run the show. Shame, really, since spreadsheets terrify her and her idea of an attachment is stale pizza.
Andof coursemother-in-law chimes in, lobbying for me to step in. Apparently, Im expected to draft a pitch while juggling two children under five, a dog with personality issues, and a husband with open disdain for Excel. Yet, mother-in-laws bribe is tempting: shell handle the cleaning, just so my sister-in-law can shine. So, against my better instincts, I agree.
Cant take the kids this weekend, love. Im off to the countryside, need to pickle some gherkins. Youll have to sort yourselves, my mother-in-law calls the very next morning.
Sister-in-law likewise vanishes, citing networking (read: bottomless brunch). Im left to survive on tea and adrenaline, tapping away at a proposal while the children systematically redecorate the living room with yoghurt. Im shattered, and barely get past bullet point three.
Why isnt it finished yet? You promised! sister-in-law yells down the phone.
You and your mum promised to mind the kids. Its not like I can toddle off to the City with a toddler in tow! Fancy a swap? I reply.
She bursts into huffy indignation, insisting shell do it all herselfwhich of course she doesnt, because laziness always trumps ambition in her world. Needless to say, the job goes elsewhere.
Unbelievable! You sabotaged my daughter! mother-in-law storms. Youre just jealous of her success!
Turns out, I didnt need to justify a thing. My husband took one look at the chaos, declared a ban on sisterly favours, and told me to enjoy a well-earned cuppa. If she wants independence, she can have itwith all the glitter and none of the help.
