Dexter and I didn't get up until after ten o'clock this morning. We had a leisurely 'hotel-style' breakfast (fruit, cereal, yogurt, toast), and then...well, we didn't really do much at all.
We played, read some books and watched some television. The boy had one of his epic afternoon snoozes - doing not much really is pretty exhausting.
A dear friend and her baby paid us a visit for an hour in the afternoon. She is also a teacher, but currently on maternity leave. We had a very honest discussion about the realities of being at home with a little 'un. We both agreed that a whole day can whizz by in a flash, when all that's been 'achieved' is rounds of nappy changing, feeding and laundry.
When I'm fed up about working full-time, I really focus on the idyllic days of maternity leave, which I re-live in my head as endless rounds of coffee, picnics, soft-play, music groups and domesticity. I picture it as a sort of Cath Kidston- filled whirl of 1950s homemaking. In reality, I did have quite a few days like today, where it rained, the boy and I barely got out of pyjamas, I caught up with the washing, and we didn't actually do a great deal.
I guess, when it comes down to it, I'm actually pretty lazy. At work, I'm anything but idle, however, when it comes to leisure time, I take down-time very seriously. I'm perfectly at one with the fact that I may not have something to document about my day other than (almost) emptying the laundry basket. Modern life is hectic; I shouldn't feel bad that I don't fill every second with 'stuff'.
My friend today commented on how content Dexter was playing by himself while we chatted. He mainly played with his beloved beads and looked at his books. There was a slightly hairy moment when he climbed into his push-along walker, and wanted me to push him around the living room. Generally, on days like today, the two of us are happy just pottering - just being I guess - and that's fine with me.