Note to my younger self as my toddler toddles off to university

This week been a shocker. There is absolutely nothing funny about what's going on in the world at the moment. I won't even attempt to make light of it.

Instead let me tell you about my own personal trauma. I had to go to IKEA.

Have you been? It's vast. My daughter insisted on going "to get things for Uni."

"What things?" I asked. I was genuinely puzzled. I did the whole uni visits thing with her the Autumn before lockdown. I saw the size of the student rooms on offer. What on earth would you fit in there? Not much more than a toothbrush, I'd venture.

Turns out I was wrong. Not only did she have a long list of essential bedroom and bathroom items (happily created on the previous scouting trip, to which I was thankfully not invited), there was also a list of kitchen essentials. Colander, saucepan, drying rack, mixing bowl, measuring jug ... I could go on and on.

"But aren't you sharing a kitchen? Surely you don't need 8 colanders, 8 drying racks ...?"

Cue a huff, a scowl and the trolley being filled high with you know what.

Gender Shopping List Gap

I could be wrong. I hope I am. But I have a hunch that some of the male students arriving at the same time will not have quite the same volume of "essential" equipment. Parents of boys - tell me what's going on, I'm genuinely curious. Do your offspring plan to take comfy throws, multiple zip lock bags, a collapsable colander, a gold tray and a little shelf thing to put their laptops on when they're working from the bed?

(This is a picture of the essential collapsable colander. Came in a pack of 2. We have a spare for anyone who needs one).

It Should Have Been Me

It wasn't the actual visit to IKEA that I found so traumatic, it was more the sense that it should have been me. It only feels like about 3 or 4 years ago since I was at university. Where did all the time go?

Actually, scratch that. How come the first few years were on go slow whereas the last nine or ten have been at warp speed.

It felt as though I was the mother of toddlers for decades. Sleeping, feeding, playing ... it was never-ending: would I ever have time for myself? Primary school wasn't much better. I swear by the time the school run was over, I had about 90 minutes to spare. And don't get me started on the school holidays.

And then one day, my eldest went to secondary school. In the blink of an eye, she'd turned 18. The pandemic struck and we held onto her for another, unexpected year, but that's it. She's off. Going, going, and very soon to be gone.

I work with a lot of women who are younger than me and in the spirit of sisterhood, here's what I would say to my younger, "mother of toddlers" self.

Note to My Younger Self

1. This too will pass.?Not just the stress and the exhaustion, but also the purpose they provide. One day, before too long, they'll leave: they'll have to stand on their own two feet and so will you.
2. Being a parent is just one important role you will play.?Don't let it define you and don't ditch the rest, even if some roles take a back seat for a while. You're a friend, a daughter, sister, professional, colleague, member of the community. You enrich the lives of others and vice versa. Play those roles too.
3. Guilt serves no-one.?Move on.
4. Think AND not BUT. You've had a successful career to date AND now you're a mother as well. Make a plan. You might need to make changes, sacrifices, even. Your career choices might become limited. And that might be OK because if you play the long game and have a strategy, you'll be able to navigate a way though. Start to think "I had all sorts of ambitions BUT now I can't do any of that because ....." and you're stuffed. Remember And not But.
5. It might not take a village but it takes more than one.?My friends and I often moaned about being the "default parent" - the one who has to remember what kit is required on what days, who sorts out childcare, who worries about school holidays, remembers family birthdays, buys the cards. Oh how we laughed. It's not funny. If you have a partner, don't just share the joy, share the burden. You'll both benefit.
6. You can take a horse to water.?Early on,?I spent too long worrying about what maths set my kids were in. Later, I was too busy and guess what, they did fine. You can't make your kids study if they don't want to and you can't expect them to be just like you. I was a maths whizz. My daughter wasn't. She can throw and catch and got into the first team at hockey. I didn't. What you CAN do is provide the right environment, love and support to let them find their own space and thrive.
7. Soak it up, breath it in, enjoy it while you can.?I swear I'm not going to cry at this point. I lie.

A Parting Note to My Current Self

When I first started writing about women in the workforce, my mantra was "Play the Long Game." I talked about how lives are long and messy, how you might need to make small sacrifices along the way, how women's careers often don't follow nice straight lines. "Think like a chess master" I urged anyone who would listen.

All well and good if you're a parent of toddlers.

When your eldest is off to university, along with the contents of her wardrobe and a collapsable colander, you'd better forget the long game. It's all about Carpe Diem now. Seize the day my friends, live for now. The future depends on what you do today: don't waste it.

And as Coco Chanel once said

"You live but once: you might as well be amusing."

Normal Service May Resume Soon

If you've read this far and are disappointed that there is precisely zero comment on what's going on in the world, I'm sorry. It's just too awful. But then again, there is always something awful going on somewhere. So hopefully I'll get over myself and normal service will resume soon.