My kid high-key hates my new job

it's been "ouch-y" in this house

👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 Hi! If you’re new to these parts, the short version is this: I’ve worked for myself almost forever, mostly writing novels, largely done from the sofa. It’s sent me a bit doolally, being alone that much and also working within an industry that hasn’t always treated me kindly. That’s why I started writing How to Build a Life, now delivered to thousands of readers in over 80 countries (!). I’ve been desperate to unpick why I seemingly had a dream career but life in general felt so underwhelming. To help with this life ennui, at the start of this year - in addition to still writing my books - I took a job in a high school as a substitute teacher. In one million ways this makes no sense at all, apart from the fact that working out of the house is making me really very happy. I’m almost 40, a solo parent by choice, and knowing all this means you’re all caught up. WELCOME.

(pssst! I just revealed all the details about my summer 2025 book. Please do consider pre-ordering: it’s the single best way to help authors you love!)

So, imagine that one day, just before half term, when we got to breakfast club drop-off at 8am, that I did not then leave the school until… 9.15.

Urgh.

It was awful.

We’d had a totally normal morning. My kid had watched Taylor Swift music videos and danced around as he got dressed in my room, me doing my make-up, making the beds, opening the curtains. Lunches were made, bags packed, water bottles filled. The car de-iced (his favourite job, although I have to budget heavily for the abundantly-used spray). Seats were warmed, school was in sight, a good parking space was free.

And then… he just refused to get out of the car. Out of nowhere.

Said he wasn’t going to school, I couldn’t make him, I had to take him home.

Just like that.

Switch flipped.

I tried being nice, because the day had been so lovely thus far that surely I could turn his mood around with promises of a nice pudding after tea, cuddles as soon as we were reunited, a reminder that good co-operation for mummy’s new job would mean a trip to the toy shop when we broke up.

It didn’t work. I had one eye on the clock with rising panic: there’s a ten-minute window for breakfast club drop-off, not to mention I would be late for work myself.

But the thing with my kid is - and I know he’s not unusual in this - is that sometimes the wave has to crest before it breaks. If he goes past a certain point, is dysregulated enough that reason doesn’t reach him, we basically have to wait out a meltdown.

Fun!!

I sat in the car and tried to talk him through it. Got out of the car and hoped he would follow. Had another mum wave through the window to say how her kids we were waiting for him inside. Walked up the path to encourage movement. Went back and said I was going to have to call my boss, that mummy could get in big trouble for being late.

‘Good!’ he said. ‘Then you wouldn’t have a job!’

Ah, I thought. Now we’re getting somewhere.