“The Devil makes work for idle thumbs”
It is now approximately 11 weeks since I finished work and I now have a 6 week old bablet. Although the endless nappy changes and rigorous feeding schedule keeps me somewhat busy I find myself at a bit of a loss. After the initial shock of waking up for the day, usually only an hour after getting back to sleep from a nighttime feed, I find myself with the task of having to keep myself occupied until Jack comes home and allows me to pester him with my incessant chatter.
In my head when I thought of myself on maternity leave I thought I would be kept busy going on lunch dates with friends, other mums and shopping with my new fancy pram with my beautiful baby, in a chic looking ‘mum’ outfit, stopping for tea and cake in a lovely little bakery.
Of course I could be doing this, there’s actually plenty I could be doing. I could be fixing up my home with some of the DIY things I’ve pinned on Pinterest, I could be baking some of the recipes from one of the hundred and one cook books I have in my collection, I could actually make use of my art degree and paint a master piece, who knows? I could be the next Van Gogh. I could do some yoga and begin attempting to rid myself of my post pregnancy stomach that currently resembles a sack of sand mauled to death by tigers. I could do any number of things but to be totally honest… I just can’t be arsed.
The pathetic truth is I consider it a good day if I manage to have a shower and drag myself away from watching Netflix in bed. Anyone else watched all the Gilmore Girls seasons several times on repeat??
I’m just so bloody tired that by the time I’ve geared up the dog, the baby and myself to do something, I feel like I’ve earned a nap. I try to keep myself busy by inviting friends round to visit (at least then I don’t have to leave the house) but Echo has made even this into a hassle after his recent decision to begin trying to hump all of my guests, one of his recent conquests being my friends 3 year old girl. I’ll forever hear her little voice squeaking “Mummy he’s scaring me” whenever I think of inviting friends over and it subsequently puts me off (I wonder how much more that dog can do to try and p*ss me off)
Sitting up at 1am feeding the child, I reflect on the highlight of my weekend so far, a quick trip to town Saturday morning (the term quick being used very loosely there) while Jack got his hair cut, not majorly exciting but somewhat satisfying. After he shaved his head for charity last month (go Jack), his hair had began to grow back in a slightly unceremonious style and although I love him no matter what, it’s nice to no longer have a boyfriend who resembles one of the Chuckle brothers.
I do have this impending fear that if I don’t start being more productive with my time off, the above statement will become my truth and the Devil will indeed find use for my idle hands. I may start doing mischievous things such as playing practical jokes on Jack or the dog or hell, even the baby. Which as I write it actually sounds quite entertaining, ok maybe not the baby just yet, let’s give her a few years to develop a sense of humour, but the other two are fair game…Remind me to have a look on Amazon later for a guide to practical jokes.
In all honesty though I am torn between the guilt of sitting on my derrière as the day fades away while I drink endless mugs of tea in front of the TV and then the guilt of not just simply allowing myself to enjoy the short time off I have with my baby while she’s little, before I’m back at work and longing for the days where I could just stay in bed and cuddle her.
I wonder if all mothers feel this way?
That’s all for now.
Violet, Echo and Me…and Barry Chuckle (to me, to you)