Boredom

Yes, I'll say it. Being a stay-at-home-Mum is BORING. And not just boring, but repetitive, mundane, monotonous, tedious, prosaic, stultifying, and so on and so on ad nauseum, et infinitum.

I am intelligent, well educated, articulate, and going mildly stir crazy. I asked a close friend the other day (to whom we shall refer as K - and no, he is not an agent with Men In Black, although I'm sure he'd like to be) if this was really it for me. If after beating cancer (twice) and overcoming serious injury whilst obtaining both undergraduate and postgraduate qualifications on the way this really was to be the sum of my life.

K, bless him, pointed out that the some of the most wonderful things in life are unplanned, and while I could say with honesty that I hadn't particularly wanted children, having one of my own was pretty extraordinary given the circumstances. K of course is right, and restrospectively asking him that question was really quite insensitive of me, as he longs for biological children but is unable to have them. So I removed both feet from my mouth, thanked him for his love and support, but still wondered.

I have no illusions about the fact that my life is now and always will be different. No more for me the selfish lifestlye of a DINK (double income no kids). And while that is ok to a certain extent, I would like to be able to retain just a little of my prior life's self involvement. For example, still walking around in maternity clothes when your child is eleven months old is NOT OK. I am happy to provide for my child everything he needs, but I do find it difficult not to begrudge the fact that a great deal of that comes at a cost to me.
And I'm not just talking the material things either. I can remember the last time my husband and I sat down to a meal out together, in a nice restaurant, just the two of us. Exactly eleven months and one day ago. That's right, the night before the blessed child was born.

Another friend, G, recently visited and marvelled at the fact that the repetitive and routine nature of my day had not already driven me completely up the wall. Rest easy G, I'm only halfway there, chewing on the doorframe.

The average day goes like this:

5:30am - Husband awakes to change and feed baby. Attempts to settle baby before leaving for work. Baby refuses to settle. I get up and play with baby.
8:30am - Change and feed baby. Attempt to settle after cereal. Fail. Play with baby.
9:30am - Offer baby watered down juice and a biscuit. Attempt to settle baby - Success!! Creep around for next forty minutes to an hour hoping not to disturb baby. Read book, watch rubbish on television.
10:30am - Change baby. Play with baby until lunchtime.
12:30pm - Change baby. Feed baby. Clean up food baby has smeared everywhere. Play with baby (perhaps with rubbish television on in background) for next hour or so.
1:30pm - Attempt to leave baby in playpen and have a shower. Shower in 90 seconds flat while baby screams house down.
2:30pm - Put baby in highchair. Play iTunes and sing and dance way through washing up to keep baby amused.
3:00pm - Leave baby in playpen and ignore screams whilst sneaking down to the laundry to put a load of washing on.
3:30pm - Change baby. Attempt to settle baby for afternoon nap. Fail. Endure overtired baby screaming and generally being unhappy for the next two hours, all the while attempting to placate him with every toy he owns, silly dances, cuddles, visits from neighboring children etc. Alternatively, if baby settles, hang out washing and put another load on.
5:30pm - Change baby, put in sleeping bag. Feed baby. Put baby down for the night after passing out with bottle still in his mouth. Creep back down hallway and spend next hour nervously listening for sounds of stirring.
6:00pm - Hang out second load of washing. Start dinner. Open beer/wine/cider/whiskey enjoy with Valium if necessary.

And, REPEAT. God help me if I need to squeeze in an errand, phonecall, or otherwise unscheduled event.

People wonder why grocery shopping every weekend is the highlight of my week. Perhaps after reading this, they won't. And despite the SMs out there shaking their heads at me in judgement, I do feel that there is more to me than this, I do aspire to more, and once the blessed child is in daycare at least three days a week, I will figure out what I can do that suits my new family schedule but still fulfills my intellect and sense of purpose, and pursue it with abandon. Will I miss being around my child all day, every day? Probably not, but if I do, that will only make the time we spend together that much more fun. Balance people, it's all about balance.