The Royal Wedding, and homesickness...

Yesterday, my husband, son and I gathered round our TV and were glued to the Royal Wedding. It felt oddly like Christmas in our house. Waving a Union flag, we indulged in a bottle of bubbly before lunch, ate celebratory choccies and felt part of something; something very historic and moving.

Afterwards, we went for a walk together (another Christmas Day tradition.) It felt so odd emerging from our front door into bright sunlight and a temperature heading upwards of 35c. There are other British families on our street, but in the main they're not, and instead of a raucous street party, we were greeted with the sound of the call to prayer, the street sweeper working his way down the road, and the bark of the dogs in one of our neighbour's houses.

Both my husband and I felt a little down last night, and we realise it's homesickness. For a few hours we were mentally on the Mall, glimpsing William and Catherine's first kisses over the crowds and anticipating the first glimpse of the bride as she journeyed to Westminster Abbey. It was an event that caused a huge swell of national pride, and it felt extremely odd not to be there. Still, I've put the Union flag on display outside our house. It now lives in our plant pot - there's nothing wrong with a bit of patriotism!

I watched a few highlights of the day online this morning and the memories are extremely rich. It was a beautiful wedding. I hope that William and Catherine (or the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, as they're now known!) have a brilliantly happy marriage. Lord knows, the Royal family could do with a success story....

Happy Easter, everyone

I just wanted to wish all my lovely readers a very happy Easter. Out here in the sandpit it's 40c and a normal working day, and my husband's away on a trip. Still, my son and I have said our prayers and enjoyed our day anyhow.

A year ago, my husband and I were enjoying our last day childless - tomorrow is our son's first birthday. It's been an incredible year, full of ups and downs, but mostly ups. We love him more than we could possibly say. It's hard to believe there was ever a time when he wasn't part of our family. So, Happy Birthday, little fella!

And some humour for you... Found this on another blog, Fletch in Flight, and it made me chuckle....

Some things about being a pilot's wife never get old

My son and I have just flown back from the UK on Daddy's flight. Although it was a difficult flight (what 7 hour flight with a year old baby wouldn't be?!) it had its highlights.

When we were waiting for the flight to board at LHR, who should appear but pilot Daddy! Looking gorgeous in his uniform, he came over and grinned at us, playing with our little boy and generally glowing. Afterwards, one of the ground staff came over and told me how much she liked my husband, and how gentlemanly he always was to her whenever they met. She said we made a lovely family. I was very proud.

Then later, my husband came to visit us both during the flight. He listened to my moans sympathetically and offered words of encouragement to the lady sitting behind me, who was on her first flight without her husband, who'd died the previous year.

As I said in the title of this post, there are things about his job I'll never tire of, and it's moments like these. You couldn't put a price on them.

Etihad bomb hoax

Caught this on the BBC news website today. A British man's been sent to jail for 3 years for pretending there was a bomber on an Etihad flight from Abu Dhabi to London.

I really can't fathom why anyone would do something like this. He must have been very drunk (they do say he'd had quite a lot to drink...) but surely he must have had time to say he was lying before they diverted the plane and scrambled fighter jets to accompany it to Stansted?

3 years in jail, though, seems a little harsh to me. I guess they're making an example of him.

Working Mum vs stay at home working Mum - the eternal dilemma

I've been thinking more about the whole returning to work after a baby issue, trying to figure out why I'm so deeply affected by it all - feeling absolutely that I NEED to get back to work, but also feeling horribly guilty and sad that soon, a large part of my son's care will be done by someone other than me.

The other day, when I was having a bit of a crisis about whether I could find decent childcare to fit around my new job, my husband said, as he has done several times before "Well, we could always swap. You work full time, and I'll look after our boy." He and I both know this is not an option. Firstly, he earns a lot more than me, and secondly, if he took time off work, he'd run out of currency and struggle to ever get a flying job again. When he says this sort of thing I always feel somehow belittled, because it's like he's saying to me  - there's no option, there really isn't a choice. This is how it is. You're a woman, I'm a man. You look after the boy, I provide.

I know this isn't what he means. I think he's just trying to point out how keen he would be to trade places with me. I know I'm lucky to be able to spend so much time with our son. He's tremendously precious.

Still, though, I can't imagine a future where the only job I have in life is as a Mum. Before having my son last year, I worked in an admittedly rather stressful job that I'd spent years working towards. My career was very important to me, in fact to some extent it defined me. Coming out to the Middle East and leaving my previous job behind was a bit of a wrench, but then having my son made my realise my ability to pursue my career was severely compromised, and I believe now that played a large part in my post-natal depression.

So, back to my working dilemma. For now, I've decided to pursue more part-time jobs that I can fit around my husband's schedule until our son goes to nursery in September. After all, this time of his life is precious, and I know I'll regret it if I don't spend as much time as I can with him now. Part-time will at least mean I'm contributing to the family finances, something I really want to do. As much as I know we share money as a family, I still can't quite get used to spending money on, say, some shoes, when I didn't earn it myself. It's a pride thing. And I know a bit more money in the family pot would take the pressure off my husband, too.

Oh, Mummy guilt. I'm told it never ends...