I thought motherhood would be boring. I just assumed. Maybe it was based on babysitting experiences as a teen-ager when I’d have no idea how to talk to the little buggers and would just be counting down the hours till they went to bed and I could watch The Love Boat.
And so I developed really negative stereotypes in my head of Mums. If babies were boring, then how vacuous did Mums have to be in order to love it?
I realized that I still felt that way when I met with my mother’s group for the third time and the conversation finally got round to what we all did before these wiggly things were plonked in our lives. There were writers and lawyers and business owners… smart people. And funny. And at one point, we were talking about motivations to lose weight and one woman said she wanted to fit back into her business suits by the time she went back to work, one said she wanted to by the time her partner returned from active duty and a third one said she wanted to in time for the upcoming fetish ball.
There went my last mum stereotype, right out the window.
But the thing that’s the most surprising is how unboring it all is. I look at what I do most days and see huge chunks of time when I’m just hanging out with Gus. And it’s relaxing, and fun, and even interesting. Just staring at him is grand.
My friend Lou commented that boredom is actually the inability to pay attention. Nicely put. Gus is a whole lot of fun to pay attention to most of the time. Even when nothing happens. Maybe due to my zen? Or perhaps just the breastfeeding hormones.
In any case, here is a minute of our time today in the park. And just to warn you, nothing happens. It was lovely.