Do they do Grown-up ones?

Today we got stuck in to the new normal. It was my first day home with little man by himself and we embraced it. We went swimming, at his request, and discovered the local pool has a parent and toddler session in the morning, complete with toys and singing (and in the warmer training pool too, hurrah!)

Then we went to the supermarket for lunch and shopping, and discovered the existence of super-cool car trollies that made shopping with a three year old boy much more fun. Mummy discovered how much mess a dropped 6 pint bottle of milk makes too! “Clean up at till five please!”

Mummy also found out that little boys who have done ninety minutes of swimming, followed by ninety minutes of shopping, fall asleep on the way home so that Wheels on the Bus can be turned off and Mummy can sit in the driveway reading her book.

It’s kind of weird having to rediscover parenting, having stuck to the tried and tested places to go for the last year or two. I find I’ve lost my nerve for new. Two years ago I took two children swimming by myself when one was just a baby – now I find it hard to take one preschooler who is more than happy in the water! It’s amazing how quickly we can get stuck in a rut and lose our confidence.

But, with an eager and energetic three-year-old to wear out and entertain, I can feel some exploration and adventure coming my way! I’m terrified and excited in equal measure.

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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Claire typed some words into the search box and hit return. The library felt cool, despite the sunshine outside, and she wished she’d brought a jacket. Scanning down the list of results, Claire tutted and changed her search parameters. Still nothing.

What did I expect? That the internet would magically produce a report on tourism in the south west? If it was that easy, Conor would have done it himself rather than hiring me.

She sat back in her chair and listened to a mother reading stories to her two children. She admired the way the woman poured her heart and soul into her reading, bringing the characters to life and speaking in different voices.

Dragging her mind away, Claire turned back to the computer, cursing the lack of funds that stopped her replacing her tablet.

At least Conor’s bringing me a laptop.

The thought didn’t make her smile. Conor was also bringing himself; his expectations that she was capable of delivering a report on tourism in less than three months’ time.

What do I know about tourism? I’m amazed I even made it through the interview.

She tried to think back over the weeks to when she’d sat facing the men in suits, and had sold herself and her talents. What had she said that had captured Conor’s enthusiasm and made him move heaven and earth to hire her? The intervening weeks in New Zealand appeared to have leeched all business thoughts from her brain.

At last her random searching came across a website promising to help the tourism industry develop the visitor experience. Flicking through the pages, Claire realised she didn’t even understand the terminology. Phrases like “Primary visitor research” and “In-depth stakeholder interviews” left her none the wiser. In her experience stakeholders were the company directors and clients paying her wages. Who were the stakeholders for tourism?

People like Conor, I guess. Or business owners, people running B&Bs. I don’t know. And how do you interview them all? And what the hell is primary visitor research? Is that what I’m meant to be doing?

Claire rubbed at her temples and let out a sigh. Fighting back tears she, loaded the library catalogue and looked instead for books on the subject. Choosing the most basic looking ones she went off to discover whether they were on the shelves or not.

Damn, it’s like being back at school.

As she wandered around the gallery looking for the books, Claire glanced over at the fiction section below, and thought how nice it was to be back in a library. There had been little reason to visit one, once she had graduated, and she’d forgotten what restful places they were.

The sound of children laughing rose up from the lower floor and Claire smiled. In her student days the noise would have irritated her but it seemed fitting.

It’s nice the kids still come to a library, instead of spending all day on their phones and computers.

Finally locating the section she needed, Claire grabbed a handful of books and went to find a desk. Then she realised she didn’t have so much as a pen or notepad with her, and went back to reception to see if she could borrow something.

Honestly, Claire, you need to get your act together and start taking it all a bit more seriously, or Conor is going to see straight through you.

For some reason making Conor unhappy worried her a lot more than it ever had with Carl. In fact, annoying Carl had become something of a game.

I knew what I was doing then. I don’t want Conor to think I’m an idiot, that’s all.

Trying not to dwell on it, Claire returned to her books and set about learning something about Tourism.

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