I used to think that maternity leave, whilst hard work in terms of baby wrangling, would provide me with an opportunity to do many things. I was quite looking forward to the chance of actually becoming what I’m sure my old careers advisor at school would term as ‘more rounded’. Fear not, there’s no need for me to work on that in relation to my figure – from the neck down I’m practically 90% coffee cake.
And then we had twins.
Did you know you can’t mow the lawn with a baby attached to you?
Other things you think you will do but you don’t because you’re too busy burping, or changing, or walking, or drinking coffee with other people in the same situation as you who understand why you can’t remember the second half of every other sentence:
Cut the hedges – they desperately need it. Otherwise folk will have to hack their way to the front door in a fairytale-type scenario. It would be hard for me to hang out of the bathroom window with my hair swaying in the wind, but give me enough wine (and a chance to do it asleep) and I’ll give it a go.
Learn a language – if I had a fiver for every thought I’ve had that I would finally get around to learning Italian whilst on maternity leave, I’d have at least enough for a holiday there. Ha. That’s all I can say.
Take up photography – the only photos I have time for are the ones on the iphone. The artistic shots of tiny feet in my hands remain in my head not on my walls.
Write that elusive novel that everyone says I should do – I would, but I can’t remember the plots I keep coming up with on night feeds. And then I can usually only type one handed as the other one is holding a twin (if you could see me now!). It would take a loooooooong time. I may manage a short story by the time they are 18.
Cook a delicious dinner every night and try out new recipes for your blog – see above comment of Ha.
See, what all this is bringing home to me is that childcare really is a full time job. Housework and Other Stuff is a bonus. I’m exceptionally lucky to have a husband who is throwing himself into caring for Bubble and Squeak, but even so, I’m not achieving half of what I wanted to.
Just goes to show that you should indeed throw your preconceived notions of parenthood out with the buggy wrappings.
I would write more, but I can’t remember what I wanted to say.