Unobtainable Perfect

Things are really busy just now - the animal rescue I founded five years ago is very busy indeed with the run up to Easter, you can read more about what's been going on (and see cute pics of bunnies!) here. I enjoy being busy, but dislike the stress of trying to reach that unobtainable perfect work-life balance.

We muddle through as best we can. I answer emails while she sleeps, I take her with me to the shelter and she plays with the bunnies while I work, Ian takes her to play group while I work on the accounts. It's tough. Sometimes (often) I don't feel that I'm being as fully present and in-the-moment for her as I would wish to be. I'm improving, though, constantly looking for inspiration, for new ways to juggle things, new compromises, new ways to fill up and enrich the time we have just me and her.

I try to make it special. For every morning I spend glued to the computer or the telephone, running through a million and one mindless and stressful admin tasks for work, there's a blissful afternoon where we spontaneously take off to the museum or the library, the national gallery or the park, and make wonderful memories (the pics in this post are from a spontaeous afternoon adventure to the museum - a really wonderful place, and as you can see Audrey absolutely loves the children's room). For every day that we don't see a single soul other than each other because I'm so swamped with work, there's a day when almost every minute is taken up going to new play groups, meeting up with new friends.

And on the days where I absolutely have to work and there's no getting round it, I content myself with taking proper breaks where all my attention is hers - we read stories, we sing songs, we dance. Oh how I love it when we dance.

And all the work that I'm doing is so very valuable, so very worth it, much as it might not seem that way when I'm knee deep in bank statements while outside the sun is shining and the trees are just starting to bud, and my daughter stares out of the window at it all with our cat and I know she wants to be out there as much as I do. But this is who I am, this is the legacy I leave to her and the world - the work of my life. Every little bit of boring admin corresponds to a moment when an animal that we as a society have failed in the worst possible ways gets given a new chance, a new home, a new life.

That's how I want her to think of me. Years from now when she's telling someone about her mother, that's what I want her to say. I made a difference. I worked hard and sacrificed and paid it more than lip service. I want her to be proud of me.