Yesterday, I finally met up with my 2 ex-working mom colleagues for an extended lunch. Whenever I meet up with these 2 pals for lunch, they are are always extended, as we always have so much to talk about and all 3 of us subscribe to an 'outcome-based' working culture where we don't begrudge people having extended lunches once in a while as long as they deliver their work. We met up at this deserted restaurant called Holey Moley which has a mini golf course with adults and little kids making a bit of a din, and we ordered their lunch set which was burgers and fries and a soft drink (for me, beer for the other ladies).
First, when they arrived they ogled at my swelling tummy in a very obvious but good-natured way, and I felt obliged to stand up slightly to let them have a good look. Then they settled down and we started chatting nineteen to a dozen and ordering. And it is a testament to our long-lasting friendship and comraderie that our conversation never flagged, there was never a dull moment, never a pause when one lady wasn't following up on another's train of thought or casual comment or had an interesting quip or scenario or personal experience to share and pick our brains.
One lady's name starts with S and another's starts with L. One of the interesting insights that surfaced from our discussion was that quite a few working moms take secret vacations, to my immense surprise, as I had harboured that as an indecent thought that would cross my mind at times but I would dismiss it as being too ludicrious. Imagine me booking a staycation all for myself, and taking leave at work but telling my family I was working! I could really do that, and I would finally have that undisturbed stretch of time in a day when I can type to my heart's content. S said that on her leadership course, quite a few moms confessed to doing that and that was how these women stayed sane, and L proudly claimed that she is a big believer in her retreats (and I exclaimed that she was someone I knew who was very disciplined about that!) and she always comes back all the fresher for it. And we discussed how women always felt a lot of guilt when they took time off for themselves, or did anything for themselves, and I felt to my horror, my eyes burning and tearing up. I do feel that most of the time, I can be busy with my work, and I am happy to give of myself when I'm home to my kids, who are all so delightful and bright and chirrupy in their own way. I also find that I enjoy my conversations with them before they go to bed (resulting in them going to bed later and later), but once in a while, I feel this urge to sit down undisturbed, in front of a nice wide screen, typing away in a nice setting, and creating pieces which are wonderful downloads of my experiences.
It is also a product of me reading this very absorbing but slightly irritating book called "Travels" by Michael Crichton, where he really writes a good tale of all his different experiences during medical school, in Hollywood and finally, travelling around the world in exotic locations (it's almost like he has a death wish to see everything and do everything that is lauded in this world). That is something I cannot identify with, but what impressed me was his inner life, and his inner mental world, which he only realised how negative, critical and full of anger he was every day when he got down to journalling every day and rating each day on a scale of 1 to 10.
For me, firstly I was immensely surprised that for a distinguished and World-renown author who wrote such great thrillers, he was really very unaware of himself. And how I agreed with him that sometimes the best way to know yourself is to journal.
So, here I am, journalling again! To more entries in the near future, I hope.
