Gardening Leave I

Seriously? A year? A WHOLE year? As my last post was the 21st April 2011, I guess it must be..
Well life has changed radically, again. Probably for the best...
Those who follow me on Twitter will know that in December my long-term corporate employer decided to cancel the IT Innovation initiative I was on - and along with 6 of my colleagues, I found myself without a job.
If you read my other posts you will know that I was at best ambivalent about my employer and it's culture, no matter how much I loved my job and the people around me.
So, a new start, and while it is not crystalline, I have been adjusting to another new paradigm, finding out things about myself and how I want to operate.
I have only just finished 'working' out my notice and reaching a final agreement with my now ex-employer, and until that was done, didn't feel motivated to blog, but now I need to restart my working life, and so thought I would blow the dust off, and give this another go...
So, I've been on 'gardening leave' - literally and metaphorically, and I thought I'd share with you what's been happening....




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The Sandwich Woman

I am a Sandwich Mum.



No, no, not (just) the school lunches.

I am in a generation, who, having had their children much, much later than their own mums, are in the unenviable position of caring for young children even as their husbands' and their own parents grow older and less able.

Care for a new generation is segueing gently through into care for a previous one.

I had resigned myself to that....

What I hadn't reckoned on was being in a career sandwich too.

As a feisty young neo-feminist, I believed that I was equal, I believed that through intellect, hard work, and ambition, I would 'make it' - become a leader in my chosen field, be a role model, and attain the financial rewards for the role I held.

Yep, I thought I could make it, and I have done well FOR A WOMAN but the truth is, and I know it, I have never reached my full potential.

What I hadn't reckoned on was that gender issues would still be ongoing even as I reach middle age. Paid less even than my direct reports, I had been fobbed off as not being experienced enough for new opportunities, only to see the best roles go to the less able.

Yes, male, in every single case....

I know you'll tell me I have contributed to this situation, by staying at the same conservative employer for 20 years, and by being probably a little too feisty for their taste - I have not exactly helped myself.

Ultimately that is why I have taken the step I have, to move away from my career ladder, to do something enjoyable, worthwhile, to be a better person, to be a little less Demented.

So why am I up in arms, again?

One word - Diversity!

Has there ever been a word more divisive?

Yesterday I sat through global presentation on Diversity, and you know what? it sucked. The penny suddenly dropped that now I am again in the 'wrong' generation, neither old enough to be a 'valued Senior' (yeah, right) nor young enough to be considered 'Talent'.

Fuming, even as the presentation unfolded, another statement caught me by surprise. What? Wait? What are they saying? Oh, apparently our Diversity action plan is North America only...

Ah, that's all right then - White Middle-aged Men everywhere else, you can relax...




So, what do you think? Are you in the sandwich generation? Are you in a career sandwich too? Do you find that Diversity Policy is really only lip-service? Do you think I am just being Demented, again?

Comment away...


Image 1

Image: m_bartosch / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image 2

Image: Ambro / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Transitions and Compromises..

Back in September when things were getting a bit too demented with school entry exams, a loss of a sense of control over my career, and an abiding sense of Working Mothers guilt, I made some promises, to myself, and I hinted at them in my Twitter Tribes blog

I didn't really dare voice them here, but this is what I decided to do:

Find time to spend with the girls so they get the best out of life and school.

Find a job that I would enjoy doing and would therefore make me a better (read nicer...) person, even if that meant leaving my long term employer.

Free myself up to do more writing and find some ways of making myself, well, a little less 'corporate'.

I had a sense that Social Media, new technology and even blogging might help in all three, and inspired by such fabulous people as Margie Clayman (@MargieClayman) Paula Thornton (@Rotkapchen) Kelly Craft (@KRCraft) and Daria (@Mominmanagement) have made some changes.....

Taking a deep breath, I applied for and got a new role in my company - in Technology Research, where I get to do what I have been doing in my own time for the last six months anyway - looking at Social Media, and mobility and its implications for the particular enterprise I work for. This is the chance to do a job I know I will really enjoy, and one that will free me up to spend more time at home.

The transition is in full swing, from old job to new job, from traditional office supervisory to home based virtual team member, I am getting to use every piece of technology you can imagine to make it happen - Mobility, telepresence, unified communications, corporate social media - Our team get to try them all out first, so I'm having a ball!

And the compromises?

Well, I have baulked at changing my Linkedin profile because the role seems so at odds with a lot of what I have been doing for the last few years - moving from Manager to Analyst is a change in brand... But that is to the outside world and I need to be comfortable in my own skin

Membership of a virtual team with a six hour time span means that we have all had to shift our days to get a better overlap.

But still this new job helps me keep my promises...

I can have breakfast with the girls and take them to school
If I am working from home I can pick them up too, or at least be right here when my workday ends. They have signed up for activities that they wanted to do but I was always too busy to take them to.

I have better organised myself to spend time with them on their school work, so things are (only slightly) less demented.

I am enjoying my work,which is making me a little less cranky, the benefit of which is not to be underestimated ;-)

The only thing is that I have been too busy in the midst of the transitions to work on that last promise.. But that is next, and @NaomiTimperley is guiding me there...

So, stay tuned, lets share this new experience and experiment in Technology and together we can learn about a new way of life for Demented Working Mums...

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Insomnia

It's 3 in the morning and I have been lying awake for an hour - worrying, as you do, at this forsaken hour of the day.

I cycle repeatedly through woes I can't change from my bed or even from here, my kitchen, at stupid o'clock.

There's no need to bore you with the details because with each word I blog they diminish, and now I feel foolish that I worried at all.

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Why the 'Wannabe Runner'?

Why the wannabe, what's stopping you, you ask yourselves. I do love running - the sense of freedom, the low entry cost, the simplicity of it, but sadly running no longer loves me...

Almost exactly two years ago, my body unilaterally decided that it didn't want to run anymore and, realising that my exercise junkie brain would never give in, it snuck up behind me and administered what can only be described as a huge kick in the ass - at least that's what it felt like.

One of my discs, weakened by 10 years of competitive rowing, and made considerably worse by regular poundings during 7 mile training runs had admitted defeat...Don't mind those dramatisations of someone clutching their lower back - a real slipped disc can be, quite literally, a pain in the butt.

That resulted in a series of MRI scans, cortisone injections and ultimately an operation. I finally felt better, after 9 months of pain and immobility. Better enough 6 months after the op to start walking 10,000 steps a day, 4 months of that and I felt great.

Now that I was fit, I could start running again - right?

Nah...

One short session later my body crept up on me again to teach me another lesson, a second disc 'went' and I was back where I started. So here I am, 5 more months of pain and immobility, more cortisone injections and scans, and the possibility of another op, and yet I would still really love to go for a run....



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Because I thought of the day...(Mar smaoinigh mé ar an lá)

Over the holidays I have had a couple of my own Subh Milis moments.

Bemoaning the quantities of Sylvanian Families bits and pieces, the Hama bead horrors, the fact that there are almost no decorations over five feet high on the tree, or that the modernist tree on the sideboard seems to have acquired some colouful, though poignant, additions to the black and gold theme. I suddenly realise that in a very few short years I will have it all to myself.

Suddenly I am overcome with nostalgia for these days, already slipping away, while we are still in the grip of Santa and joyous belief and enjoyment of the moment, and I stop and remind myself that one day the small hands will be..

Missing.



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Walking it off

A little walk along the canal in winter coloured weather....



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Tell them now...

Two years ago yesterday I took a day trip to Ireland, for a lunch date with my Aunt Liz. Only 12 years older than me, Liz was always like my oh-so glamorous older sister. Like all my aunts and Mammy, busy busy busy, with her business interests, her mad part-share of a race-horse and above all her family, she was one among many strong fabulous women in our huge family.

The date was tinged with sadness, we all knew that Liz would be leaving us, just a matter of when, but she was still in love with life enough to get dressed up and come out for a meal at her favourite restaurant, a not an inconsiderable quantity of wine, and an afternoon of chat and much discussion of food.

It was already twilight as we left the restaurant, and I finally got up the courage to hug her and tell her what I had come to tell her, that she was my role model, the one I aspired to be, that I loved her.

Liz fought on for nearly another full year, and I saw her twice more, but she was never again as well as she had been for that Christmas lunch date, and there was never another chance to talk to her again, and so it is that at this time of year I remember her, not as ill as she actually was but as her old self, sitting at the table talking about life and food and family.

This time of year is when we miss them most, the ones who won't be here, and that is why we mustn't wait till it's too late to tell the ones who are still here what they mean to us.

Tell them now...




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Fashion for Geek Girls

I've always had problems dressing myself.

No, not in the sense of doing up buttons and laces, more in the sense of 'Oh this? I just threw it together Daaahling...' the last time I remember being truly happy with my outfit must have been when I sawed the legs off my flared jeans, put on a wind-cheater and ventured forth into the gloom of a July day in Dublin. I must have been all of what? Fourteen?

The thing is, I am a geek, a girl geek in a guy geek world, and finding the balance has always been challenge. I mean, I know I'm not a boy - I figured that out sometime before I sawed the legs of my jeans but in many other respects I find the concept of putting an outfit together just as baffling as a bloke

I spent 4 years as an engineering student at University College Dublin dressed in a green Duffle coat and boots. My classmates were astounded on the first occasion I appeared in a skirt - echoed by my work-mates years later when I appeared at the work Christmas 'Do' and one of them exclaimed 'Sh*t, you scrub up well!' thanks Lads ;-D

In the working world, I daily tried to figure out what the heck I should wear, and in true engineer 'fashion' came up with a formula - which boiled down to finding something I liked, going out, buying three of them, sometimes in different colours, and wearing them to, well, to death...

'Work Casual' was, quite simply a disaster for me. Up until then I could go out and buy a suit once in a while (sometimes, truthfully, second hand - cut down the choice), even if doing hands on IT support at the time meant I could be found, on occasion, underneath a desk, doing cabling in jacket, skirt, tights and (mid-height) heels. My verdict - 'if it needs to be ironed, it ain't casual'.

It started with 'dress down Friday', and then went full-time. What-a-nightmare - striking the right note between work and week-end, professional and slacker, having to express a little individuality :-O OK, so there were some rules - no jeans, no trainers (sneakers) and no T-shirts, but otherwise 'casual' Arrghhh - I reverted to type - finding something I liked, going out, buying three of...etc.

Don't get me wrong, I love nice clothes, I like to look nice, I adore Black Tie events, because then at least I know what I am aiming for. But on a day-to-day basis? Forget it. I look in awe at those who pull off looking 'together' i.e. Colour co-ordinated, accessorised, neat. Sometimes it 'happens' - by accident rather than design, and then I go out, buy three of..you get the picture...;-)




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I want the truth not something beautiful - lying is incompatible with childcare

Warning - language may offend..

It started with small things, implausible, minor things - denying any knowledge of something she had definitely done, strange things - 'catching her belly button piercing on railings', mimicking my back pain symptoms. Telling me stories that just didn't quite hold water.

Then it started to escalate, our new Au Pair Ruby* said she wanted to visit her aunt and I believed her, even said she could finish early for the week-end so she could get there at a reasonable hour. She got back late on the Sunday and told me they'd been to Chatsworth, weird, because it's closer to Manchester than her Aunt's.

The following week-end our lovely ex-Au Pair Ellen* was visiting from university and a Christmas Market outing and family dinner planned, including Ruby. Ellen and I were out having a coffee while the girls were at Stagecoach when we got a tearful phone call - Ruby's uncle had had a stroke and could she go? Alarm bells started to go off for me - too elaborate an explanation, for something that needed no permission. Poor Ellen swallowed it hook line and sinker.

Supposed to come back on Sunday, Ruby texted me to say all the trains were cancelled because of snow. I texted back telling her to go back to her aunt, she confirmed later that was there. Of course I checked - no, the trains weren't cancelled...Luckily I worked at home on Monday - she didn't get back until 4.30 so I had to pick the girls up. 'I was at the hospital all morning' she said. Stinking of cigarette smoke, she was wearing her hair extensions - strange, I thought, to remember your hair extensions when you're on a mercy mission...

I started to track her Facebook photos. Not my 'friend' she had befriended Ellen and that gave me access to her albums. I noticed she had recently posted a new profile photo, from Chatsworth and with it were comments from someone she had never mentioned, someone clearly not her Aunt, planning the trip at the week-end. And, Euwww, photos of her newly pierced belly button. Her twitter feed regularly said she was going back to bed - at 9am! 'because that's what I do..hehe'

Macca and I agreed we would ask her to leave at Christmas, when she went home to Canada. We said we would do it on Sunday. But then came Friday, Friday sealed her fate. She came bouncing into the kitchen as I cleaned up after dinner. 'That was my uncle, he's so much better, a bit groggy but better. You know, I think I'll go and visit him'. Fine, I said. While she 'packed' I texted Macca 'uncle made a miraculous recovery, going to Nottingham to visit him, she must think I'm a fucking moron'.

I met her in the hallway, looked her in the eye and asked her if she was lying. She denied it so, so completely - But I told her that in case she didn't come back, I wanted her keys. She gave then to me unquestioningly. texting me from the train she said 'I feel so bad That you've had any doubts about me and horrible that you can't trust me when you can 100%. I'm going to work really hard to prove you can'. She really did think I was a fucking moron..

On Sunday I called her Aunt, No she hadn't been there the previous 3 week-ends, she never turned up for the one week-end she had arranged and never gave an explanation. No, there is no uncle, Aunt is divorced.

I told her that we were sacking Ruby but we wanted to make sure she had somewhere to stay until Christmas. Aunt agreed, and contacted Ruby's mother who also called me. Both were mortified but told me I was doing the right thing, that I couldn't have someone who so routinely and blatantly lied to me looking after my kids.

Her mother said she felt so sad and at the time I did too... But then, dear reader, Ruby came back, and did not bat an eyelid to find her stuff packed up and waiting for her in the hall.

Nor did she show any emotion when we confronted her with the terrible state her bedroom and bathroom were in - she clearly spent all her time lying in bed eating sweets and dropping the wrappers on the floor, she had never taken out the rubbish, changed her bed linen or even rinsed her sink after spitting toothpaste in it. Of 10 drawers only one was occupied, everything else was ON THE FLOOR.

We told her she had to leave because she could not be relied on to tell the truth. She told us she understood, she told us she 'wouldn't take it personally' WTF? She was the one who lied...

The final straw came when she left. We made her give back the our Blackberry. Always remember your employer's tech belongs TO YOUR EMPLOYER. There it was, the entire sorry history of her deception,her texts to her friend saying she'd 'They've gone for coffee, I'll give them a few minutes before I call' 'I'll pretend cry and tell them someone is sick', the forwarding of her 'sorry' text to her friend and my terse response 'fine, we'll talk when you're back. Have a good week-end' (subtext - cos it will be your last one, bee-atch). The 'OMG, what have I done? Ah well,I won't let it ruin my week-end' (why not? You may have ruined your life - jobless and homeless 1,000s of miles from home - go figure) and the clincher 'I so want to get high'.

We so did the right thing.

*names changed



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Blogger's Block

Oh dear I have been remiss on my blogging. Fact is, the more I have investigated this world and the more topics I note down as possible blogs, the more tongue tied I become. Some of those blogs out there are awesome :
@KRCraft blogs about Social Media and technology in the Enterprise as Thoughtelf, Mammywoo says it how it is as a mum with a small baby and being married to an 'Irish One' Misslexywoo@Queenofspain has kids at similar stages to mine and and a pretty irreverent take on life I still have a fear of being 'Dooced', so I guess I should put that good old disclaimer - the Views held in this blog are entirely my and do not reflect those of my employer - there!

And today I had a bit of an epiphany, waking early - completely freaked because I have quite a bit on my mind - and I opened up Twitter, as you do at 3am, and the alternative is wandering the house like a madwoman, or doing ironing, and started to engage as everyone says you should. Then suddenly it happened - first @KrCraft said hiya, because I've also been MIA on Twitter then @MargieClayman delivered a virtual slap in the face - she spelled it out - I'm not alone, she's been there, Everyone's been there.. I read and re-tweeted and unbelievably she responded, offering to help. Her encouraging words helped me see this:

I know a lot about three things - working in a huge organisation, high performance in sport and being a somewhat frazzled mum of two - and I am learning a bit about Social Media, it doesn't mean I am good at any of them but at least I can talk about them, in my own voice, and see if anyone listens....

The irony - bullying in anti-bullying week

Last night Bug was a real nightmare,refusing to do her Kumon even after I switched off the TV. She sat in the dark and refused to come out and get on with the 10 minutes work she needed to do. She cried, she wailed, she said she was clever enough, and she didn't need do it.

Finally I lost my temper, really lost it and turned into the shouty Mummy I hate to be. When I finished my rant, she, cowed, got on with the work. As she was doing it I  thought about something she'd said - that when I go to the parent teacher meeting today her teachers will tell me how sad she is at school,and it was all my fault for making her do this extra work.

I couldn't figure out the connection, so when she'd finished and we'd both calmed down I asked her what was going on, how come she is 'sad' at school. Finally she told me - the boys are teasing her, again, and sometimes the girls are joining in.

They are calling her 'Brainbox' they are telling her she is ugly, they are shunning her in the lunch queue and she has decided she doesn't want to speak up in class any more. Some of her stuff has disappeared and she has startted to complain of not being well in the mornings, and was sent home last week because she said she was sick.

Now it's all starting to make sense....

This is probably the fourth time this has happened. Yes, she is different, she is reasonably bright, she speaks with an accent tinged with Irish, and infant years spent in a different part of the country, she is full-on and vocal and draws too much attention to herself. She is not ugly - she is actually, and I know I may be biased, quite beautiful.

When I told her teachers before they smiled enigmatically and said, 'Well, she's not the easiest...' yes, I effing know she's not the easiest - I've had her for 10 years, and you've only had her for 5. She is 110%, she is enthusiastic, she is vocal, she is stubborn and she is opinionated, she can be exhausting. And the fact that she has been even moreso at home over the last few weeks should have been a clue. And I realise with a horrible hollow feeling that by getting angry with her, I have been making things worse...

And I contrast this with Bubble - she too is bright and pretty and, being our child, probably just as 'different' but the key is she has figured out that she needs to 'disappear'. She wears glasses, she has a full on local accent, she is quiet and sweet and doesn't seek attention, either at school or at home and so her life is far far easier than her sister's. She may get picked on as a Geek, but that is in the future, she is happy right now.

And while sometimes I wish Bug was more low-key,  I also get angry that she can't be the person she is - I can't change her, and the bullies shouldn't try.

When I went to find out more about bullying at http://www.bullying.co.uk/ I found that it is actually National Anti-bullying week, and it makes me sad to realise the school is probably running a campaign, and either the bullies are unaware that what they are doing is bullying or they know it is wrong and are doing it anyway.

And I read this lovely blog too http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/parents/2010/11/anti-bullying-week-1.shtml and will show it to Bug and to take a copy to the school. Visit the links and learn the signs that indicate your own child or another child may be getting the same treatment.

Bug and every other child has a right to be different, as long as they are kind and considerate - they need help to understand that differences are good and not bad, that one day they will all have a chance to shine.

Back to work

No, I did not lose my job, and monumental though my hissy fit seemed to me, I am not that sure anyone else particularly noticed. Last Tuesday I crept back into the office feeling extremely sheepish, and was so touched by the warmth of the greeting I received that I felt silly for getting so out of control in the first place.

I only realise now that I almost reached a point of no return, to what felt like the edge of madness, and a combination of physical pain, stressful work and the looming exam results had taken me there.

I thought I would never stop crying, and didn't know why.

Now that I am back to 'normal' I can thank the people who brought me back - a lovely GP who listened to my incoherent list of woes and advised that I work at home until I felt better, a surgeon who injected me with a massive dose of cortisone, that allowed me to sleep and move with ease again, and above all kind kind friends who listened and supported and helped me see in perspective.

I am stronger because of them.

Kill Bill or Wi-Fi Wars vol 1

The Girly Nerds did a great post about Passive-aggressive Wifi names And I am reaching the point where I am going to reconfigure my Router and the name I have chosen is...
 
Kill Bill

About 3 weeks ago we started to lose WiFi pretty regularly - around 7 each evening our WiFi goes down and the only WiFi we can see is....

Bill

We don't have any neighbours called Bill, at least no-one that we talk to - There are a couple of NIMBYs that do back on to us and who did take exception to our house being built, but no-one who looks like a Bill.
 
No idea who it is.

So, each time, off I toddle, down to the 'computer room' under the stairs (see it's not just me who's a Geek Engineer - Alpha Geek Macca is worse) and re-boot the router.
 
This does the job until Bill restarts his sodding router too.

Now I know that the reason is probably that we are on the same channel, and I know I should just change it, but Macca has the manuals and he is in denial that this is the cause.

So, if I change the name of our Router - will Bill get the message, and change his channel instead? Or will he turn out to be the leader of a lethal assassination squad and send them around to blow us all away? 

Vol 2 to follow.... 
 

Lessons from a 10-year-old

Well, Bug missed her (and our) first choice school by a measly 6 points out of 334, but passed both the others by hoooge margins. I am soo proud of her - she made up a huge gap in such a short time and yet doesn't hold the hard work against us (see Good Mummy or Pushy Mummy), but has demonstrated so many qualities that will stand her in good stead as she goes out into the world...qualities I never fully realised she had...

Consideration - We had a good weep, Bug and me... Me weeping for her, and her disappointment, until I realised Bug was weeping for me and not for herself....

Kindness - I spotted her hugging one of her friends who hadn't made any of the schools they'd applied for, and when she realised she was one of very few in her class who had made it to any of them, she stopped talking about it at all.

Optimism - Bug wanted that school place from the moment she walked through the door on Open Day, and to not get it was a terrible disappointment - the first genuine, life-changing disappointment of her life, and yet she is talking with such joy about the school she will be attending, I cannot fail to believe she will be a huge success wherever she goes....

Resilience - I suppose this is innate in 10 year-olds, but Bug is already back to herself in a way  I am not sure I could ever achieve so seamlessly after such a blow - and I resolve to try to look at life through the eyes of a ten-year-old, at least some of the time. I so wish I could bottle her energies to brighten all of our days....

Job Abandoned?

Today I lived up to my demented tag when I took a self prescribed 'Mental Health Day'. Problem was, I was already in the office and I didn't exactly slip away... I am not sure how my colleagues or HR are going to take it and I might find myself with a status update on the HR system of 'Abandoned job'. I know I have had a lot going on and it has all been taking it's toll, but wish I could maintain a little more self control and a lot more discretion. Final straw was probably fairly minor but resulted in a fair amount of bad language, a hasty shutting down of my PC and a determined exit from the office. We Irish are sometimes tagged the Latins of North West Europe, and I think there may be a some truth in the apocryphal family tales of us being descended from a survivor of a shipwrecked Armada - while I don't have Irish red hair either, I certainly could be described as 'having a Temper on me'. Anyway, I'm home now and considering my options. Wondering if I will have a job tomorrow, and at the moment, not particularly worried. Twenty years is a long time, especially if a fair amount of time has truthfully not been that enjoyable, so If anyone knows of openings for geek engineer Mums with a temper on them, then let this one know...

Walking and thinking - or not

I haven't been very attentive to my blog and finally made the tie to the fact that I haven't been walking much lately either. For three months over the summer I was on a challege at work - to walk 10,000 steps per day, and being a bit of an alpha type I managed to average over 15,000. I absolutely loved it, and it provided me with some much-needed thinking time, almost satisfied my addiction to exercise, and I lost over a stone too! The key to it for me was the chance to clarify my thoughts - Coming up with words in rhythm to my steps, blogging in my head as I paced - the hardest thing was trying to remember it all and get it down when I got home. The challenge ended in the middle of September and I have to admit I miss it, and the chance to free my mind - Time to get my pedometer out, a new pair of shoes on and get off my aching butt and walk and think and blog.....

Good Mummy or Pushy Mummy?

A few weeks ago I mentioned that I had some stuff going on that I didn't feel like posting about at the time, well finally as things resolve I'm feeling better about it, so here it goes. The Primary (hah!) reason for my worries were the looming eleven plus exams. We are lucky (or maybe not so lucky - read on) to live in an area where a lot of the Grammar schools have stayed in the State system, so it is theoretically possible to get a top class state education for your bright child, if they achieve the grades in the competitive entry exam for the school of your choice.

Things went horribly wrong for us when we realised that despite the tutoring, the reading the Kumon, Bug was not ready for the 11+ Maths test for the most selective school in the area - she was ready for the Entrance exam to the school that her Primary feeds into, but not for the mega-selective (4:1 applicant:place ratio) one that we thought was the best match for her. This was not a question of ability, but of her having been exposed to the types of questions being asked.

I could go into all the reasons why - but suffice it to say that the feelings of guilt were primarily mine. I questioned all aspects of my life - was being a Working Mum the issue - was it because I chose the tutor that lived nearest so the Au Pair could take her, was it because I was too busy to supervise homework, because I hadn't been around to run her to a better tutor further away, was it because of my insane travel schedule which left me largely excluded from the School Gate conversations, where I might have discovered that he wasn't very good, was it because despite all this I still don't earn enough to send her to a private Prep school?

We were 'lucky' enough to find out in time, and find a different tutor - one who could actually prepare her for the exam, and then followed what have been the most testing, guilt ridden few weeks of my life.

Running Bug backwards and forwards to almost daily Tutor sessions, having her do 11+ tests between times, worrying, worrying worrying, gave the last two weeks before the test a nightmare quality that I never want to repeat.

And this was my problem - is this really the right way to approach education? Bug is bright, Bug is confident, she is a strong soul who knows her own mind, she is literate and verbal and could probably give a Literature undergraduate a run for their money in the length and breadth of her reading list. Most of all she is loved, and hopefully she has successful role models in us to aspire to, she has all the traits to be highly successful wherever she goes to school. But she is barely 10 years old and we have been treating her like an exam machine...

Here is the rub - State Grammars were intended to give all academically bright children an equal chance at a top class education, but the have largely become the preserve of the wealthier middle classes, who actually send their children to Private Prep schools which guarantee entry to the more selective State schools - in the end I was flummoxed by the parents at the gates of the school on the day of the test last week - We could have been queuing at the gates of Benenden from the accents and the clothes and the cars.

I never ever wanted to be a Pushy Mummy - but found I became one in the end - was it the right choice? I don't know - I'll tell you in a couple of weeks when the results come out, or in 7 years when the University question comes up, or in reality in 20 years when she is making her own way in the world. But I know this - I desperately want the best for my child, and for her to have every opportunity, even if I can't afford to fast-track her now.

So what are my conclusions? If you are bright but impecunious family, and you want to go this way, you need to start early, you need to practice for the exams, or get them tutored - the schools tell you not to, but this perpetuates the problem - the wealthy are doing it for sure - because they can afford to, and as long as that is happening your equally bright (if not brighter) child has an even higher hurdle to jump.

So I hope I have been Good Mummy in trying to secure Bug's future for her, for giving her role model of a woman relatively successful in a Man's World, for working hard to give her and her sister a good quality of life, but above all I hope that she doesn't remember me as Pushy Mummy who made her last year in Primary school a misery.....

Uncomfortable Reading

Tomorrow I will go to Mass for probably only the second time since Christmas, and the reason is the same - because my daughters attend a Catholic primary and tomorrow Bug is doing the Introductory and I want to be there for her.

The Catholic Church has been in the press a lot lately, and this week interest is at its peak with the Papal visit, yet I find I can raise no enthusiasm and in fact shudder inwardly at every mention or appearance of Pope Benedict.

Now I actually grew up in the church. I enthusiastically attended two of Pope John Paul II's masses in Ireland as a teenager, and like many a Catholic child considered the Religious life, but as I have fully realised the extent, not just of the abuse in the church, but the extent of the institutionalised cover-up, it has turned me away from a life which once had huge importance for me.

I attended a convent school where a committed teaching staff - where nuns and layteachers alike were dedicated to ensuring that every girl reached her potential, and who gave me an education and confidence in my ability that still surprises me. There was never any hint of abuse - institutionalised or otherwise, and I will always be grateful for the start they gave me in life.

Likewise my parents - I grew up much-loved in a family where we were told we were clever and funny and beautiful and all of us have gone on to lead successful lives. We were street-smart in the way only the children of a serving police officer in a big city can be, which certainly saved us on occasions where we did encounter predators, in the streets and parks of our neighbourhood. Bad things did not happen to us or anyone we knew, in our home, school or church, not until we moved to the country and a Priest call Fr. Thomas Naughton was assigned to our parish.

I was not aware of what he was, but as a teenager got a great sense of unease in his presence. He was a young priest who revitalised the parish and many were very fond of him. My dislike of him stemmed from his 'fussing' over the boys of the parish, and his apparent disdain for girls. In my naiveté and nascent feminism I put this down to patriarchy and the way women were treated in the church, and while I felt disenchanted and started to turn away from the organised part of the Religion, I still respected his authority.

Fr Naughton left the parish suddenly in 1984 while I was away at university, and while my parents seemed very agitated, I was pretty uninterested. It was only over several years that the truth about the abuse of a whole generation of boys - family and friends - began to emerge. What also became clear was that he had been moved away because of complaints made, but only on to another parish and more children. http://www.independent.ie/national-news/a-cop-a-priest-and-a-campaign-of-vilification-1849326.html

In my own world, I got busy and kind of never quite got round to getting to church for many years, but always had an abiding sense of guilt that I should be involved and I missed the rhythms and the rituals that had formed such a part of my psyche.

Then the girls came into our lives, and we wanted to bring our children up with the same moral codes as we grew up with, with the same care and respect for each other and their peers, and the same chances in life that I and Macca had been given and that drew us back to the church, and to a community where we felt we belonged.

But in the last year as first the Ryan Report and then the Murphy report have brought back some of the discomforts of my Teenage years, and as the deep-rooted conservatism of Pope Benedict starts to bite, along with the possibility that he was involved in much of the cover-up, or at least in the denial, I have found it harder and harder to continue to go through the motions, even for the sake of the girls.

This is no reflection on the lovely school the girls attend, or the community of which we are a part, and I will attend tomorrows mass, and many more over the coming months as Bubble prepares for her First Holy Communion - a Spiritual journey I can't deprive her of, but then I think I may stop. I have given my girls a choice - they will be able to make up their own minds, but I can't help feeling the weight of guilt that Leaders we trusted first allowed and then covered up such terrible abuse.

I also feel for a generation of 'Lost Boys' who I knew as children - for the majority who 'survived' but also for those who have died , some by their own hand, and others in experiments in risky living, and it makes me feel cold and sick.

Tomorrow the theme is 'Hope' and I want want to Hope, to believe that the church will find it's way, that there will be a place for a more liberal and open hierarchy, that Women will be granted a place at the table (and the altar), and that clergy will be allowed to marry and to raise families - the best priests I have ever known were actually family men - one in secret (Father Michael Cleary) and one a Vicar who converted - but in my current mood, with the current leadership, it may have to do it without me......

Twitter Tribes

Events over the last few weeks - and I will blog about them when I can put some perspective, and therefore some humour on them - have started me thinking about the life I want for my family and myself, and how I might end up just a little less "Demented".

In the course of seeking some inspiration and in my journey in discovering the great interconnectedness of everything, I have started exploring the world of Social Media.

Triggered by a single evening - at an end of term night out I was sitting among a group of Mums who took an alternate approach, and had a different set of priorities and incentives, who opted out of mainstream corporate life and took their future into their own hands. I was fascinated to hear of their various enterprises, their Networking events and their use of social media. Connecting with them through Linkedin I began to receive their Twitter feeds, was knocked out by the mix of the social, informational, business, marketing and humorous things they had to say, and how connected and interconnected they all are....,

As these horizons began to expand, I pondered some dichotomies - the use of New technology by a traditionally untech group (and I reckon I could get a post or even a blog together on what I think of as the 'Feminisation of Tech'), my own subversive use of the technology in a company where all forms of social media are governed out, yet where there is a groundswell of employees using their own Smartphones, iPads and even some sneaky tricks on the Intranet (ref LinkedIn) to bring some colour into the Corporate and external world, and the existence of the domestic and geek worlds in a single 'space' - Twitter, I started to explore further.... .

Spotting a tweet around some of my thoughts, I started following several people in the Social Media and Tech worlds, as well as the Mumpreneurs, and their replies and began to uncover many of the themes that are troubling me - how to get social media into my corporate world, how to leverage the fact that so many employees are currently doing it anyway, how to better utilise the models that the technically savvy small businesses are putting in place.

What a revelation!

Then today was a real eyeopener - I began to pick up a Tweets stream from my favourite Tweeter - @Rotkapchen - about HEROs - from Empowered by Josh Bernoff @jbernoff - and you know, I suddenly felt like I could be one - well maybe a little like one of @rotkapchen's 'walking wounded', but so delighted there are others out there who feel this movement, and are trying to verbalise it, utilise it and share it!

So @BLD, @Clutterfairy, @Euan, and in particular @Rotkapchen - thanks for your streams, for brightening my Grey Corporate days, and for showing me there is another existence that I can aspire to where I can be a little more myself :-D