Stepping up to growing up

Towards the end of last year we had a nail-biting couple of weeks as Mr G applied for a new job. (Of course compared to recent events it was not nail biting in the slightest, but at the time, it was nerve-wracking). He is a doctor and the job he applied for, and very badly wanted, is the first on the road towards his specialty of choice. The stakes were compounded because these jobs are only offered once a year so missing out would have meant  waiting another full year for another shot. The applications, interviews and associated machinations were tough but they were nothing compared to the week or so that ensued as we waited for news. Admittedly I was only a bystander in the process but given the amount of skin I have in the game (our life!) that mattered little. Landing the job he wanted was a long shot but land it he did. We were both ecstatic; it is something he has worked towards for such a long time and, while it only puts him on the first rung of a very steep ladder, that first rung is pretty important to clear. So we were both quite beside ourselves.

It was at least a fortnight before I grew apprehensive but gradually my mind filled with doubts which felt drastically at odds with my initial excitement. I wanted this for Mr G as badly as he wanted it himself so why was I suddenly unsure? That expression ‘be careful what you wish for’ sprung to mind. When the goal was simply getting the job it was abstract enough for me to overlook the reality of what that job might actually entail for Mr G, for me and for our little family. When the job became his that reality became harder to ignore. It dawned on me pretty quickly that the reality is going to be tough. For all of us.

For a start, for the first half of the year, he will be commuting to a big hospital that is about 45 minutes from where we live. (There is no point moving because he will be changing hospitals regularly for the next few years plus remember the brilliant storage I have here??). He will be on call every second weekend and every second week. A weekend on call means ward rounds at 7am on Saturday and Sunday as well as responding to any calls throughout the day and night. A week on call means between Monday and Friday the phone might ring at anytime outside of standard hours and he will need to be there. So that’s pretty intense right? Plus I don’t imagine that having lots of real lives at stake is altogether stress-free. So, no matter which way you look at it, it’s not going to be easy breezy.  

Obviously it will present a few challenges. It means I will be doing a lot of single parenting which scares me because, as I have mentioned on other occasions, I believe I parent best as part of a team. Particularly one with Mr G who happens to be a fantastically capable and supportive team-mate. But last year when my fears first crept in about Mr G’s new job, it wasn’t the daily logistics of the new chapter that scared me. It was the big picture. It is a grown up job with grown up demands and there is something daunting about all of that. Not because he’s not up to it but because he is. Because we are actually grown ups and because, in my head, I sometimes forget that. Or deliberately overlook it. In either case, with the new job, there is no escaping the truth. We are adults with real responsibilities and this is our grown up life. And for some reason Mr G getting this job really rammed that home for me. Even more so than giving birth to our two little girls which seems strange but we’ve got a whole year to ponder that! For now though I am holding on tight. Because next week the grown up chapter begins. I suspect you might hear more about it as the weeks whiz by….

What makes you feel grown up? DO you like it, or do you like to overlook it?