On my just-tidied desk is a piece of wooden railway track. I am not allowed to remove it. If I do remove it, it magically reappears. It is, you see, a certain small someone’s toothbrush; or possibly her baby’s* toothbrush, I’m not clear. At any rate, it’s important, and apparently, it belongs on my desk.
In my diary are many scribbles. Some are my own, and legible. Others, less so.
My open diary sits to the left of my keyboard, showing (in theory) my plan for the week and active to-do lists. On top of my open diary (and overflowing around it), most of the time, are any and all of the following:
Pieces of scrap paper covered in scribbles.
Bits of lego.
Wooden train cars.
Assorted pencils and pens.
A picture book or three.
Random bits of paper that are being called into use as “shopping lists” or “tickets” or, y’know, something.
I really like having a clear desk. I think I’ve mentioned this before. I’m not very good at maintaining it (except at work, strangely; in an office, I can keep my space spick and span, but at home, not so much) – but I do like it, even need it, if I am to get anything done.
Elfling is really good at playing by herself. Or, quite often, playing alongside me… typically sitting on a stepstool next to me at my desk, keeping herself quietly busy, maybe sometimes leaning her head against my arm as I type. It’s utterly lovely. And I’m very lucky to be able to get a little work done, anything really, in this way.
* Elfling’s “baby” might be anything from a shampoo bottle to a tower of lego bricks. Occasionally even an actual doll… but not usually. There is always, however, a baby around somewhere.
2 thoughts on “Productivity impeded”
No doubt someone will tell you that you’ll miss this very thing when she’s all grown up, right? But you know, i disagree. I think what we’ll miss is that sweet spot where they’re old enough to not be in your space all the time, but haven’t yet ceased altogether to need you and think you’re fabulous. I think I’m just getting into that sweet spot now, and I’m really not sure how long it will last. A few months? A year? Maybe a bit more if I’m lucky.
I can actually believe quite easily that I will miss this. She’s so lovely, so cuddly, such nice quiet company, in these moments. It’s just… It would be nice to have a tiny bit more autonomy. More control over my space. It would really help me to Get Things Done. (Then again, maybe that’s just another excuse!)
We have flashes of that sweet spot. Patches of time where we realise we’re all doing our own things, getting on with whatever, and we can hear her happily pottering around by herself somewhere in the house… for a while. It’s lovely. And getting lovelier. (Still totally don’t understand those people who say how they wish they could freeze their babies in the baby stage. Baffling. Utterly baffling.)