I'm on maternity leave? aka Shit Gets Real

Thursday was my last day at work and now, after a long weekend, (cue the trumpets and celebratory fireworks) I am officially on maternity leave.

I guess this makes me a lady of leisure for the time being. I'm sure I look like one to the outsider. I've been prancing around in fleec-ey sweats, soft t-shirts and a fuzzy, owl-hooded bathrobe all weekend. Really, though, this is the only "outfit" that I am truly comfortable in at the moment - soft, loose layers that are easy to remove when my temperature suddenly decides to plummet or climb.

Yes, on paper maternity leave looks and sounds so good, but somehow I think the reality is going to be a little more complicated.

My last week at work was weirdly both relaxed and manic.

Relaxed in that I was essentially office-bound, as repeatedly walking up and down the stairs was becoming physically impossible, so any and everything that required attention had to mainly come to me. 

Manic in that there was so much to catch up on and complete and to prepare for the brilliant and beautiful soul who has very kindly consented to adopt my Year 9s just as they seem to be transitioning into full-on puberty and panic mode (you can do this L!).

The days flew by so quickly, that I hardly had time to consider what it would mean not to return to the place. So, this weekend when I finally did have a moment to unwind and look ahead to the immediate future, it almost came as a surprise that I would suddenly be having all of this freedom. 

Now don't get me wrong, I am a great believer in the value of taking time to oneself. In fact, when I am overwhelmed it is usually my preferred coping method. I am also a big fan of extended vacations and am eternally grateful for the generous maternity leave that parents are entitled to in this country, at least compared to what is available in the states (read it and weep), but if I had wanted to be a stay-at-home housewife (and there is nothing at all wrong with this choice), well, let's just say that I might have dated a little differently way back when.

I do know how to relax. I'm not a workaholic, but really, there's nothing wrong with enjoying what you do (really?) and seeing the wonderful people that you work with every day (yeah, that's more like it) and preferring to be challenged on a daily basis by something other than home and family. 

I'm not quite as hardcore as my boss. She described herself as "not maternal" last week and told me how she returned to work early after her children were born because she just couldn't bear staying home any longer (and actually, I really really admire her self-awareness and willingness to pursue her own truth). No, I do think that I will be grateful for the leave once the little one has made an appearance, but I also have that tiny, niggling feeling that there is going to be a limit for me.

I'm not complaining. I'm not bored.....yet... I'm just sayiiiing that a week-and-a-half to two weeks would be an ideal amount of time for this baby to finish baking. Just enough time for me to finish my Christmas preparations, and to have a little time to myself to read and write and relax. 

Any longer though and I can see myself starting to struggle on my own. Hear that baby! Hear what I said? Two weeks to vacate the premises or....or else! 

*sigh* 

The reality is, though, that if she's anything as stubborn as I am, as all of the women in my family are, she'll do what she wants.

- A -