The first time I noticed something had changed between me and my husband Nick was when he met us at Schiphol airport last year. Four weeks earlier, he’d started a new job in Amsterdam, while I’d stayed on in London with our two daughters to pack up the house, see out the school term and, not insignificantly, leave my own job as a magazine editor before moving to the Netherlands to join him.
Reunited in a flurry of hugs and tears, I couldn’t help noticing that Nick looked somehow different. Same hair, same smile, but nonetheless different – slightly better, in fact, like when a friend has had some really expensive work done.
Finally, the penny dropped. After a month in a hotel without kids and life admin to contend with, he was rested.
I, meanwhile, looked positively haggard after a frantic four weeks of clearing out cupboards, finding tenants for our house, and organising playdates so that the girls – Pearl and Honor, then seven and four – left the UK full of happy memories.
‘Turns out the stress of starting a big job in a strange city is no match for looking after two rambunctious children,’ I remember joking to Nick in the taxi.
Until we left London in April 2018, we’d been career equals, with similarly senior roles and salaries. But when we moved to the Netherlands – where Nick had a new job as Studio Director at a fashion house – we decided to temporarily tip the balance.
After more than 20 years of working, I was going to lean in to family life at the age of 41, and start working again only once everyone was settled.
‘It might be good for my ego to take a back seat for a while,’ I told friends.
Change of pace
Denne historien er fra September 16, 2019-utgaven av WOMAN - UK.
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Denne historien er fra September 16, 2019-utgaven av WOMAN - UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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