I used to be very, very ambitious and considered women who didn't work to be losers - harsh and naive, but true when I was in my twenties. The fact is though that living a nomadic lifestyle, which I love, and raising three children, whom I adore, do not a conventional career make.
I love writing - some people tell me I'm good at it - and it's a job I can pack in my suitcase (without worrying that'll take up valuable shoe space). However, I often - on a daily basis - toy with the idea of trying to get a 'proper' job, either in communications or bioengineering, once my son gets a kindergarden place and before we leave Norway for wherever. I don't think there are many opportunities in Oslo for a woman over 35 with my experience and poor language skills but I do yearn for status, identity and to be a role model for my daughters (a decent income wouldn't go astray either). On mornings like this morning, I yearn for these things more than usual.
I explained to my five-year old why her Daddy isn't travelling to Ireland with us next week - because he hasn't got holidays. ' Oh, yeah,' she says, 'me and Caoilin have holidays from school, and Aidan always has holidays and you mommy have holidays from the gym.'
No wonder she wants to be just like me when she grows up! The thing is that I used to find such comments amusing but now they're downright depressing.
And for the record, I've been to the gym twice - TWICE! - since mid-December.