I read a fascinating article this morning about one of the aspects of motherhood most women encounter. Interuptibility. The article basically sums up exactly how I feel 99% of the time, never finishing a ‘job’, because a small person needs you to manage their life for them. You know, “Im hungry, feed me now, no, not that, smoother, more, faster. Turn the TV on, put my shoes on, my nappy needs changing, but I’m not going to let you change me. Cuddle me. Let’s play horseys. I can’t fit the crayon in the box, Cloudbabies has finished, I want your sandwich…” Interuptibility.
The ‘job’ you are trying to finish is not necessarily anything more than scraping this mornings toast crumbs from off the table, or hanging the washing out (you know, the damp load that has sat in the machine over night, slightly festering) or having a shower without little person having a meltdown because your not accessible, bring on the urgent whacking of the bathroom door… But, being able to achieve/complete/finish one of these jobs, brings a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, no matter how small. This I can identify with immensely. Life/ free time/ me time at home sometimes is measured out in naps (the sacred hour of bliss), Weetabix (takes Baxter 6 mins to eat one – enough time to do a small batch of dishes!), episodes of Cloudbabies or whatever is the favourite program of the week and moments of harmony when Baxter decides he wants to sit and play with his crayons/ cars/ puzzles contentedly for 15 minutes or so. Being able to write this post and post it, makes me feel like I have achieved something*
I go to work 21 hours per week, and I do a job, that a large number of people say, “I couldn’t do your job”, yet I generally feel fulfilled and satisfied whilst I am doing this work. It’s the sense of completing something (although, my cases sadly never seem to finish), writing an action plan, a chronology, attending a meeting, resolving a problem. You don’t get this sense of accomplishment at home. I have actually booked precious time off work, not to take my boy to a farm or something fun, but to catch up on housework because he is nursery for the morning.
Whilst all this sounds rather negative, and doesn’t make mothering sound much fun, nothing can actually take away the fact, that most of the time, you don’t mind this source of interruption, because you love the little interrupter dearly, and would do anything for them. But, that’s not to say, you still dont crave some of your pre-baby freedom, the chance to keep on top of house stuff (if you choose too), read a book, paint your nails, have a phone call without having little person have to heavy breath down your phone to say hello to nanny and to generally live your life in one go and not measured in Weetabix increments!
You can read the article too here(if you get the time)
*this article stopped and started so many times, because my little interrupter wanted to play ‘row your boat’, horseys, wanted a cuddle, needed dressing, wanted a drink, wanted to sit in high chair…I then managed to finish this article when Mr Egg took the little interrupter out for a walk, I then felt rushed as I want to finish this, sew together some squares, run a mop round the bathroom, wipe some mould of the window frame and maybe have a shower….he’s only gone to the shops to get milk!