AUTHOR: Kat and Kev TITLE: Things no one tells you... DATE: 9/11/2007 06:11:00 AM ----- BODY:

or better titled, "Things no one told me." want to preface this post with 2 pertinent points: 1. I LOVE my baby. He is the cutest, most wonderful, funniest, smartest being on the planet. Hands down. I love spending time with him. I love everything about him. 2. I am not depressed or in need of some sort of consolation that often follows on from my rants. Don't phone to check that I am OK. I am. Anyway, back on topic. No one told me how mind numbingly boring it would be to look after an infant all day. I was warned about the lack of sleep, the vomitting, the pooping, the crying, the never being alone again (especially to pee), the expense, the competition with other mums, the lack of sex, and the mess. However, no one told me about the monotony and isolation that comes with being a stay at home mummy. My days are roughly the same everyday. Wake up, food, diaper, play, food, baby nap, wake up, food, diaper, play, food, baby nap and so on and so forth. We have already firmly established that I don't really clean, so my down time is generally spent on the PC researching obscure diseases my child is likely to get while my ass gets progressively bigger. Its not as if this drudgery s confined to the house. There are essentially two types of interaction with baby in tow. The first (and main one) is the baby talk. How is the baby? Its all anyone wants to know. Gone are the days of discussing the UKs environmental policies against the backdrop of peak oil. People, intelligent people, are reduced to who is walking, crawling, eating and pooing. These interactions are almost always with other mums in baby groups or with pensioner grandparents on the street, as of course these people are the only ones around during the day. The other interaction is the type where you meet new people. There is always the question, "What do you do?". Somehow the response of "take care of a small baby and eat carbs" isn't the conversation starter one would hope it would be. "Well," you say, "you could always go back to work." And I pause, consider it, and then pick up the cause of all of this boredom (Mr HG) and think, "What and miss all this? Never."

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