Beating Boredom

When I was considering the prospect of maternity leave I was always worried that I would be very bored at home. Even now, friends ask if I am finding it a bit dreary (most of those friends don’t have kids!) Those with little ones told me that I was crazy and I finding time would be the problem, rather than deciding how to spend it.

The reality is that I do have a lot more spare time than I used to. As I have written before, that’s an unusual situation to find one-self in and I would feel bad about squandering it or complaining about it. So I am filling my days with visiting friends and family and getting a little bit creative.

Baking is a great way to fill the time (although it’s not a great way to get back into pre-baby shape). I have made little rabbits for Easter and a set of origami collages for our bedroom. I love to sew and it’s wonderful to be able to get into that again (although the overlocker really is too loud for Isaac). Via my trusty Blackberry I still can catch up with what’s happening at work, which makes me feel still connected to that life. It is relaxing to be at home – to be able to visit my mum or grandmother whenever they or I like. In a way, it’s a window into a simpler time. I love my career and I couldn’t be a full time housewife but I am enjoying this little break!

Driving

I have just recently acquired my driver’s license. For a long time I was one of those people who begged lifts and had the kind of intimate knowledge of bus time tables normally reserved for pensioners and school kids. I am an expert at public transport, including mastering the somewhat tricky balance of remembering to press the bell for your stop as well as keeping your go card in hand to swipe off. Unfortunately, bubs and busses are not an ideal combination. Prams are unwieldy when you are by yourself and carrying your baby in a moving vehicle seems a little dangerous. So now I have to master being a driver. If you see someone on the road in Brisbane going 40ks or stopping for an inordinate amount of time at a roundabout – it may be me. You see, having a brand new car, driving with a baby and having just received your license are a recipe for overtly cautious driving. Ah, the number of times I back-seat drove with my mother admonishing her for not going when there was a clear gap in traffic – it’s all turned back on me now.

I love my new car but I am still a bit afraid of her. Whenever I return from a trip out unscathed and in one piece I am just a tiny little bit surprised. You’re meant to get your license at 17 or 18 because you have no fear and you are going to live forever – I am sure no teenager feels like a nervous wreck behind the wheel! The other day I was coming back from Carindale after doing some shopping. I drove along congratulating myself on a splendid bit of parking and a smooth trip. Then the beeping started. It would disappear and then suddenly get louder. I snuck a look in my rear view mirror to see a 4WD bearing down on me. My sister’s, somewhat colourful , term for this kind of driving is “If that car drives any further up my arse, it had better take me out for dinner.” My mind was racing - could rear parking senses be set off by a tail-gater? I pulled into the next side street and called Nathan and asked for his opinion. He somewhat dryly commented that rear sensors only work when the car is in reverse and if we did have sensors they would have gone off when I attempted to collect the mailbox reversing out of our driveway the other day. Point taken, I got out of the car and checked that all doors were closed. They were. I pulled out and as soon as the car reached 20Ks, the beeping started and got louder. There were no lights on the dashboard to indicate what could be the problem. I pulled over again and called the Mazda service line. After hearing me describe the problem he asked “Now love, I don’t mean to sound sexist, but is your handbag on the seat next to you?” “I have a bag of groceries sitting there” I replied. “Okay, just put that on the floor.” He advised. I began to ask why when it clicked – the bag must have moved in transit and was heavy enough to set off the passenger seatbelt alert. I had a good laugh and he assured me that I wasn’t the first to ring with this issue. The rest of the trip passed without incident apart from Isaac probably wondering what his insane mother kept giggling about.

Magazine Envy

I am a complete magazine addict. Interior decorating, Fashion, Food, Art, Literature, Technology, Business, trashy gossip magazines – none are safe. I love the feel of a thick glossy magazine, the promises on the cover page fill me with anticipation and excitement. Rarely does a magazine live up to its glamorous cover, but I still go back for more. So when I was pregnant I of course devoured pregnancy magazines. I could tell you the “week by week look at your baby!” off by heart, as it seems this MUST be included in any pregnancy mag worth it’s Elevit. I loved reading the “real life” birth stories and cooing over the cute clothes (for bump and for baby). When Isaac was born I graduated to parenting magazines. And it is here that I have become quite disappointed. The tone of most of these magazines is incredibly judgemental. Articles admonish working mothers for even considering child care, much less leaving your child in a centre. And despite the fact that mothers that work are frowned upon, they are still encouraged to buy the $65 romper suit on page 45. They invariably feature a number of mums who have set up their own internet business and have been wildly successful. Even though those mums admit to working 14 hour days, they are seen as quite acceptable as they have nannies in their employ to look after their kids. As a new mum who counts a day when I manage to keep a clean house, blog and keep a baby happy as a quite an achievement, I don’t really want to read about the business a new mum grew from nothing because she saw a “niche in the market” and was handy with the Singer. Maybe one day there will be a parenting magazine which shows a house covered with toys, kids covered in goo and a mother looking less than glamorous but happy and at ease with the chaos around her.

Self Censorship

My best friend is a voracious reader with a broad range of tastes so I asked to borrow some books. Isaac and I often spend the afternoon reading and I will read aloud to him whatever novel I am currently engrossed in. I have re-read most of my own books and I am notoriously late at returning library books, so I am pillaging friends’ book cases. My friend is a forensic psychologist so she is interested in the fragility of the mind and human experience. As such, she has a number of books recounting tales of childhood abuse or about people that just aren’t quite right. Another side effect of motherhood I had not expected is the overwhelming emotion that accompanies seeing or hearing about children being hurt. As I flicked through her library my friend would take a book off me – “Not that one – that’s about a kid who was abused by his Dad and can’t break the cycle of abuse as an adult.” “Hmmm, a child is murdered in that one ... sorry”. “Nope, that one is just disturbing.” In the end I borrowed some inoffensive Pauline Simmonds as well as a few mysteries.

It is strange how we start self –censoring as mothers. Normally Angelina Jolie in a starring role would be enough to entice me to a movie, but I have no interest in seeing Changeling – a story about a child who goes missing and then is replaced at a later date by a different child but no one believes the mother that this isn’t her baby. On the flip side, adverts for Huggies or even toilet paper with that cute little puppy have my heart bursting with affection.

Learning Patience

One of the greatest things that Isaac is teaching me is patience. By nature I am not a patient person, added to that I have a compulsion to always keep busy. Why do one thing at time when you can do three? The other day my mum and I were talking about the different parenting advice that has been offered through the years. Apparently she was told that when breast feeding you need to concentrate on that only – not read a book or watch TV at the same time. I somewhat sheepishly admitted to feeding, watching TV and reading a book all at the same time. At work I tended to do a few things at once (which I don’t advocate as I think you do a better job doing one thing at a time) but it’s hard to leave that habit behind.

I love to make lists of things that need to be done. There is nothing quite like crossing a task off a list. If fact, I have been known to write down a completed job simply for the joy of striking it off. My husband finds this hilarious. Isaac doesn’t always comply with my list. My intention is to work through a number of chores in quick succession but he will need a cuddle or I will simply get caught up gazing at him. Somehow I’d feel it was cheating to add “stare at Isaac” to my list. Even once he is settled and happy and I have every intention of using that time to get things done I find myself looking down at him wondering at this little angel. There are plenty of times when I want to have a shower or make something to eat and Isaac will decide he needs me more. I find myself needing to take a deep breath but as soon as I look into his face my immediate needs seem to melt away. His impatience making me patient.

Night time waking – whose job is it?

I guess every new parent knows this feeling – you have just fed the baby, settled him and put him in the cot. You listening to those little snuffling settling sounds until you are confident bub is sleeping. You then drift off yourself and just as sleep seems within your grasp a whimper clutches you back from the edge of dreaming. You listen for another moment hoping that it’s just one little cry but then it escalates to a full on scream and you know that you are up again ... and this is the fourth time in a row this has occurred. It’s at this point that you notice your partner happily snoring beside you. You feel a surge of anger at the quality sleep that is eluding you. You consider waking him for “his” turn but decide against it because:

1. You’re awake anyways so you may as well go


2. He has to go to work in the morning and you feel guilty waking him (despite knowing that it’s perfectly reasonable to share the night time duties)


3. You know that if he can’t settle bub within a few minutes he will be in the bedroom suggesting that the problem is that baby is hungry (even when you know he’s fed and full)

However, I must give some credos to my husband who has a magic way of settling Isaac when I can’t. He will go into the lounge at 1am and cuddle Isaac to sleep whilst he watches whatever sport inhabits that hour, and more impressively , won’t fall asleep himself and will put Isaac back into his cot before rejoining me in bed.