‘Not working is class’

I wrote the above as a reminder to myself a few weeks into maternity leave, not long before Ruby showed up. I’d been writing notes throughout pregnancy so I could remember it when I wasn’t pregnant anymore. This note anticipated that one day some months ahead, somewhat ground down by motherhood, I might contemplate my decade in the professional services sector and think, ah – working was marvellous after all.

When Ruby arrived I was too busy being in complete awe of her existence to give work a second thought. Tom suggests I was ‘high on hormones’. Indeed, the first three months of her life are just a blur of baby cuddles in my rose-tinted memory, with only these blog entries and Tom’s less clouded recollection to remind me that’s far from the full story.

As the months ticked by, though, sustaining this state of awe became incompatible with the banalities of everyday existence. No matter how wonderful the object of my affection (and she is rather wonderful), I could rely on the nappy changes, winding, sterilising, cleaning and blending to bring me back down to earth. The role of parent seemed to offer unparalleled contentment with the propensity to be – bluntly speaking – a little bit boring. I wasn’t aware that wonder could go hand in hand with monotony. It was oxymoronic.  

Reduced adult interaction through the long lockdown of last year no doubt compounded a sense of mental under stimulation. And several months into my maternity leave, rather than setting my sights on a return to the corporate world as pregnant me thought I might, I found myself resurrecting a business idea I’d had a couple of years before. Curiously, I thought this might be the perfect time to kickstart something new. I reengaged with a world outside of motherhood, swotted up on research, sought out business start-up advice and became convinced this concept was what we all needed.

I was still playing out the start-up scenario until a few weeks ago. I’d gotten to a point where I was becoming frustrated that I couldn’t give more time to it. I felt guilty for hanging out with Tom and Ruby all weekend when there was a plan to finish. I loathed every pile of unwashed clothes for eating into time that could be spent moving things along. It was only through feeling conflicted (read: getting my knickers in a twist) that I started seeing things more clearly, albeit with the insight of a husband who had been calmly observing the whole situation. I realised how impatient I can be. That I often want several things at once. That I’m a bit much sometimes, even for myself.

So, in my experience, it wasn’t motherhood that ground me down, but my perception that just being a mum for a while wasn’t enough. If I was capable of doing more, then surely I should be doing more? But the truth is, I’m not capable of new-business-venture more. At least not right now. And I’ve realised that’s alright. Even if my idea goes no further, it led me to do two things I doubt I would have done otherwise: quit my job and assume full-time mum-ing for a bit.

It seems that while I was busy getting busy, motherhood was quietly dismantling my ideas about myself and life and where it’s all headed. Its wonderful, unwavering monotony has snapped me out of a ‘more’ mindset. And I get it now: our little human is right here, with personality exploding out of her as she delights in the world and the glorious banalities of everyday existence. I just had to slow down to see the spectacle.   

And the more I’m around Ruby, I realise – like her – we’re all learning and growing and changing. People play and piece their worlds together and tear them down and start all over again ad infinitum. Our lives are messy and miraculous. And within them exist moments that need only to be savoured, in which we can abandon our endless ideas of more and realise that enough can be everything.  

So I’m still in awe, and I’m certainly not high on hormones anymore. And I’m grateful to Rubes for serving up some humble pie. She has tethered me back to something I didn’t realise I’d drifted from. In return, the least I can do is be her human climbing frame and canine spotting companion a little longer, knowing some-time soon she’ll be far too cool to hang out with me all day.