There was a time when I was busy. Pretty much every moment of every day I was on the go. Suprisingly it calmed me, moving was my happy place, doing was my meditation and achieving was my goal. I always felt lost when there wasn’t anything to work towards. Productions, concerts, exams, assessments, events, dinners, parties, holidays – this was my how I lived my life, this was how I loved my life.

Then maternity leave begun.
(Right here I am going to say big ups to maternity leave and paid parental leave. The opportunity to get paid to love your little ones – that is a pretty sweet deal).
My maternity leave began last year when school finished in December. I was 32 weeks bumping, (that is pre-walrus mode) and reeling from the loss of my utterly amazing dad only weeks prior. I was not ready to sit still. Sitting still made my brain work, which in turn made my heart hurt. So I did what any normal 32 week pregnant lady did- nested like a schizophrenic duck.

Yes nesting is normal, I know that, I read about a million pregnancy books while up the spud. But the way I nest, you would think I am an industrial cleaner. Nesting, combined with probably a slight touch of OCD, a pinch of neat freak, and a woman refusing to deal with her feelings resulted in the most sparkling house you ever did see.

But what do you do when you can not clean your house anymore because:
a) every surface in the house has already been clean (some twice)
b) the chemicals were beginning to over power even the strongest of nostrils
and c) your husband refused to finish of the jobs that you start but physically can not complete

Answer: nothing.
Real woman would have had sewing projects to undertake, knitting to continue with, or books to read. Me, I am ashamed to say, found day time T.V.

It was my undoing. I wasn’t ready to slow down, but the long, drawn out speed of old re-runs and ever draining snail pace of Days of Our Lives sucked me in and before I was ready, life as I knew it had halted.

I became increasingly walrus like in my final weeks of pregnancy (a little bit round, a little bit sleepy and an increased enjoyment of sunning myself on rocks), so this new life style worked. Until I met the little bundle that would change my life forever.

India was born in the most uncomfortable heat wave Perth has ever had (DO NOT challenge me on this, I was 40 wks pregnant at the time and if anyone else was to say otherwise I would punch them in the side boob). Afraid that she might melt if we even attempted to leave the house, I was forced to spend more time in doors, more specifically in the only room in the house that has air conditioning. Those first 6 weeks were crazy busy. Not with anything exciting or anything that would take me too far from home, but busy none the less. Doctors appointments, growth spurts (now that was a learning curve), endless diaper changes, sleepless nights, hospital visits and family and friends as far as the eye could see.

It was about 7 wks when it felt like time had slowed back down. Routines had started to work out, the house was resembling some normality and my old friend sleep had come to stay again.

Since then I have done crap all. I have cooked a few fancy foods, kept the house somewhat livable and I have a social life that is shared between mothers group, the fabulous ladies I call friends and sneaky visits back to school to feel important again.

Despite the fact that I can tell you whats happening on Days of Our Lives and that I sometimes comment on The Circle’s facebook page, I love my new speed. I love spending time with the most adorable little dollface, and watching her grow. I know am incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to do so.

I don’t think we can choose what speed we set our lives to, but I’m pretty sure that when the speedometer maxes out we have to realize that we might miss what we are driving pass.

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