It’s been one of those days.
You know the one:
Where your exhaust falls off your car; You make a pillock of yourself trying to book it into the garage (because you don’t actually know what car you have, you just know it’s green and has four wheels); Your baby decides to start straining loudly when the man comes to fix said broken car; And then you find a large turd in the middle of the living room. (Made by the baby, not the man who came to fix the car).
I have achieved nothing and everything today.
OK, so I didn’t do the washing. Or the ironing. Or the hoovering. Or ANY of the article I’m currently writing.
But I did play peek-a-boo with my baby until she giggled so hard she made herself “trump”. And I did work out that when I pretend to cry it distracts her so she stops screaming, for about a second. And I did find out that she can half crawl towards something she wants to play with (in this case, the huge turd she left in the middle of the living room).
So all in all, I think that’s a pretty productive day.
The thing about having a baby is that all former ideas of productivity go out of the window. It’s harder to measure what you have achieved at the end of every day. Especially if the day begins like it started (dirty nappy, food everywhere – and that’s just Frog’s Dad). You learn to be more realistic about what you can fit into the small chunks of un-baby time. And to appreciate that playing with your baby is doing something productive.
It also helps to totally give up on your appearance. And not to have a rubbish car.