Take a Letter, Mummy

This week I’m feeling very much like my daughter’s PA.   This is a feeling I only really noticed today in a kind of energy-saving lightbulb moment.

In my day job, I am an Executive Assistant, which means I’m pretty au fait with managing people’s administration and generally looking after them.  It’s what I do and I’m very good at it.   But, I always assume that when I turn the key in the door at home to begin my evening, I can take that coat off.   Wrong.   Big wrong.  Now that my daughter is at school, I’m learning that with school comes a new role of School Parent Assistant, or something equally catchy.    Now this isn’t all bad and this is where I show my true colours and my love for ‘all the admin’.  I actually look forward to the Friday night school newsletter.  It’s true, I do.   I enjoy reading it.   I enjoy the anticipation of looking in my daughter’s book bag to see what paperwork treats lie inside and then sticking them on the fridge.  I enjoy it, but I also find it a little bit stressful trying to remember all the things I need to put into the new drawer in my brain marked ‘Important School Admin’.

I realise you may be thinking that now would be an appropriate time to pull out my ‘L is for Loser’ t-shirt but I bet I’m not alone in my love of adminny, papery things.  I know there are more of us out there.  Go on, admit it.  It’s you isn’t it.   And your favourite shop is Paperchase.

I digress.  All of this paper-loving doesn’t explain why I feel like I actually work for my daughter.   This feeling comes from her new-found confidence, which brings her to say funny things in a funny manner, which come across very much like a miniature boss/matron. Example, when her dad asks her anything about her day, her friends, what she has done etc., she starts to answer him and then, when she is bored of talking, she turns to me and says, without a click of her fingers but one wouldn’t look out of place, “Tell him, Mummy.”  Wow.  Just wow.   My husband thinks it’s hilarious.   It’s happened twice in two days.   I suspect it will happen more.   She also says things like, “You do it”, if I ask her to do something that will benefit her much more than me.   I may as well look at the floor, shoulders hunched and slope away.  I know my place now.

So, in this world where I work from my daughter, I think I should receive the same benefits as any employee.  It’s only fair, right?   I should have my own office, which I accept will double up as the kitchen and may also be the staging area for the teddy bear pantomimes.    That’s okay.    I will also need remunerating for my efforts.  I accept all forms of plastic cash and leftover Easter chocolate.  And I would like membership to a private gym, which will probably be in the form of the weird outdoor gym at the local park.   I should have an annual appraisal.   This could be conducted in the circus tent in the lounge; I’m not fussy.   We can have chocolate brownies instead of digestives and I’ll settle for a cold drink.   School Parent Assistant.  It’s the future so I’d better get in some CIPD too.

Sigh.

On a serious note though, it is great that my daughter’s school very much encourages parental involvement and it’s even more great to see my daughter grow in her confidence so I guess I can take a bit of matronly behaviour for a while whilst she grows into her new self.

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