Sometimes adulthood feels like a game invented to entertain us through our grown up years. I guess this is not an original thought - it's where terms like The Game of Life come from - but it has struck me lately that this is how people get through life happily, by choosing the game they like best and making that their life (provided they live in a society where the choice is possible).
So accountants like solving number puzzles, architects like drawing and working out spatial problems, writers like making up stories. All the stuff in between can be tedious, but in a way it is also like playing. Mowing the lawns using a noisy machine - you get results, a clean, cut section of grass to look at afterwards, a sense of achievement, plus your mind is momentarily busied by the task of pushing the mower around the square, of getting it done. I won't go so far as to say that doing dishes is anywhere near similar (I can't wait to live in a house with a dishwasher again) but cooking too is a creative outlet, if you have the time and energy to see it that way. And then you add relationships to enrich life socially and mentally, to have other minds to bounce ideas off and people to accompany you as you play.
Having a baby is the ultimate activity. I guess as we get older we need our pass-times to have some purpose, in order to feel as though something is being accomplished and changed by our being around on this Earth. That's perhaps why housewives don't feel a great deal of satisfaction, especially when the children are older and don't require so much care and attention. Bringing a baby into the world literally takes up your whole life, from what I have been told, and it has consequences. The child will change the world in some way, however small. What you do or don't do for him will have consequences in his life.
This baby has already taken over my body, but has yet to fill my hours. I am trying not to wait for him, but instead to use my time to cultivate grown-up thoughts and ideas, and do creative activities like making jewellery, writing stories and baking bread, as well as indulge in some hedonistic relaxation.
Problem is, he's so close now, he's taken over most of my thought processes...the idea that my body could send signals of his imminent arrival at any moment lends a slight risk factor to even the simple idea of going for a walk. I feel I should be mentally prepared and physically rested at all times, in case today is the day. And there are things that I should do, to negate any future regrets - things like get my manuscript sent away.
Okay, hang in there baby, your time will come.
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