Rainbows

I am writing this whilst chuckling (well, the chuckling turns into a cough and then a sneeze) re-reading my ‘10 reasons I am grateful for my body post’ at number 5 in particular. 

‘It has an excellent immune system and I am rarely ill’ 

Maybe rarely, but when I am, I do it properly. Oh my goodness, I have felt it this week. It started with a sore throat, to which I laughed in the face of, and protested that I wasn’t sick and that people who say they are sick, will fulfil that belief. OK. Maybe my inner voice was saying it as the sore throat worked its way around my body. At the cinema with my husband that night, it was only the sheer block buster edge of your seat viewing of ‘2012’ that kept me from curling into a little ball on my flip up chair. The bike ride home in the rain (“I don’t need a taxi, I am NOT sick”) pretty much finished me off . 

The rest of the week passed in a bit of a blur with me half battling with the idea of being ill and half pretending I was fine as two energetic children do not leave you a lot of time to sit and count your Strepsils. I gave in to the doctor visit (“why would I bother going to sit in a waiting room risking getting other peoples’ bugs to be told it’s just viral and to sit it out’) and was told that it was just viral and I should sit it out.

 

By the end of the week I felt much better, I could talk, eat a little (a major highlight of my week was my thoughtful husband bringing home cookie dough ice cream – in sickness and in health he was definitely onto a winner there.) and was proud of myself for taking everything slowly, resting where possible, early nights, drying my hair and wearing a scarf around my neck (very important apparently so says my, not only thoughtful but also very patient and sensible, husband as he watches me fly out of the house with my coat open and my hair damp)

 

I picked my son up from pre -school on Friday to be met with him proudly staggering out of school with the pet carrier every parent silently dreads on a Friday. We had the pleasure of Buster, the class dog for the weekend. Each child takes it in turns to take him home and then documents what Buster does over the weekend. Each parent prays that they are not the family to lose him or break him.

 

We were due to head into London to visit Santa in Selfridges so with a quick stop at home to drop off Buster’s overnight gear and a quick belt, elastic band and dressing up scarf designed into a coat, Buster was securely fastened to my son in the hope that Buster would make it home in one piece and back to school on Monday. At this point, to avoid any RSPCA visits, I should clarify that Buster is a beanie toy.

 

Now, on Sunday night, we have spent a wonderful weekend with Buster and I have found myself very attached to him. He has been a welcome addition to our little party and I even found myself popping him in a sock today to keep him warm and making sure that he was brought outside to appreciate the incredible the rainbow we saw this afternoon. My son and daughter have demonstrated excellent paternal/maternal tendencies and I have loved watching them include him into their lives so beautifully. 

 

I was almost too wrapped up in my temporary third dependant to notice that my virus is failing to shift and I am now ploughing my way through the third set of throat sweets which promise to be the best and the strongest and the ones that will change my life. I am frustrated with having to slow down but I am trying to put into practice some of the relaxation I have been learning on my course. I have not been able to maintain any cardio since last Saturday however I have been OK for both Pilates sessions so far which I am already a ‘sing it from the rooftops’ fan of. 

 

Personally, my moment of joy and the sliver lining to this tonsillitis covered cloud comes as I open up that cookies dough tub and eat it without a shadow of guilt. 

64th Time Lucky

Confession time.

I have no core stability. Worse. I have no core stability and despite many attempts, I cannot find the inner strength to improve it. But, my mantra of never giving up holds strong here. First, a bit of back-story to my core stability and me. Or lack of it.

 

I hardly managed much more than a sit up before the age of 28.

 

I had three complementary personal training sessions when I joined my gym. I used one for stretches, one for running advice and one for core stability. The first two I used the advice every day thereafter, the third left me in pain for a week and I never put to use the advice except for the sit-ups, which I grudgingly do after my cardio.

 

A few months later, I was offered a further complementary personal training session and so, with the hope of improving on last time, I asked for the session to be dedicated to core stability again. I kept up the exercises for two weeks then, retaining only a few Swiss ball exercises to add to my sit-ups, I fell back into my cardio habits.

 

You see, I love cardio. My brain loves it to. And my mind. And my body most of all. I love the anticipation before, the competition to beat my last session during and the sweaty, endorphin high at the end. You can’t fake cardio so I can’t fool myself. The digits say it all – the time, the distance, the calories burned. I can see for how long and how far and much I am putting into this and getting out of it. It offers real results and it appeals to my orderly nature as, if I’m struggling, I can concentrate on the time panel reaching the next set of 10 minutes, or the calories rounding up to a nice number or reaching another kilometre. If I need a boost, I can scan the radio channels and find an inspiring tune. If I am having a long distance run, I can watch an episode of something to take my mind off the length of time I am running. I can switch off for a few kilometres if I want and just let my mind wander into nowhere, just enjoying the freedom.

 

I have tried Pilates DVD’s, I have tried to follow the exercises I have been given when I am working alone in the gym but I cannot seem to find the resolve to hold the stretches or lifts for the full time unless I have someone watching me, counting and encouraging me. If I count myself, I count to 60 really, really fast pretending that it’s the right speed – I can’t do that on the treadmill as it counts for me. If I try to do a plank alone, I convince myself that 20 seconds is good as I am building up to the suggested 60 seconds when I know full well that under the eye of the trainer, I would never do less than a full minute.

 

I have nearly gone to classes but I shy away from them as a rule especially anything requiring coordination. I have done aqua fit but only because 60% of me is under water and cannot confuse fellow splashers when I get the moves mixed up. I am always a bit concerned that everyone knows what they’re doing apart from me and there are only a few beginners’ classes, which haven’t fitted in with my availability. Or that is my excuse.

 

So, enough excuses now. A few weeks ago I decided to try again. I signed up to a beginner Pilates course at my gym, which is apparently designed for people just like me. There was a big, long waiting list but I finally got the call and it starts at 9am on Saturday morning. It fits in to my life and it lasts 5 weeks so I am sure to have developed a Pilate habit by the end of it. I have a good feeling about this one. Watch out inadequate core stability, I’m gonna get you this time!

Jumping Beans

Yesterday, on a trip to the Science museum with the kids, I had the opportunity to put many of my ‘keeping calm under pressure’ exercises into practice.

 

This is what happened -

 

1. My daughter was in the buggy and my son was walking. I had planned to meet my friends at 1.30pm and I allowed an hour and a half for what was meant to be a one hour journey. Well done me.
2. My Route was Kingston to Wimbledon on the over ground and then District Line to South Kensington
3. My District line train stopped 2 stops early of South Kensington at Earls Court
4. I got off to wait for the next train that did go to South Kensington but couldn’t get on as it was totally jam packed and Earls Court was swarming with people so I waited and then jumped on the next empty one
5. Which was not going to South Kensington after all but High Street Kensington which is why it was empty
6. I got off at High St Kensington and travelled up one lot of steps and down the other to get on the Circle line to South Kensington
7. The Circle line train miraculously turned into a District line train and so it went back to Earls Court
8. I travelled up one set of steps and down the other to get back to the District line platform. I am now exactly where I had been at Stage 2. Except now it was 40 minutes later and I was officially late
9. I waited for a District line train to take me to South Kensington where we hit more stairs to go up
10. I got to the Science museum (up more stairs) at 2pm.
11. We had a gorgeous day with the kids – they behaved impeccably, had a great time with their friends and I with mine; we explored space, played in the basement, built towers and splashed in the water. I love the Science Museum.
12. On exiting the museum, the buggy broke. Collapsed. The front bit popped out and the frame lost a VIB (very important bolt), which made the two bits that hold it up, not hold it up any more.
13. I fixed it DIY style using the belt from my leather jacket.
14. I arrived at South Kensington station, all the time singing a silent prayer to the leather strap to stay strapped
15. The District line no longer went to Wimbledon due to something I couldn’t catch over the noise of the rush hour thundering closer, being on the line at Putney Bridge
16. But one did go to Richmond which is close enough and that’s where we headed
17. From where we got a bus home

 

 

So what did I learn?

 

1. The District line and Circle line are two of the most confusing, frustrating and slow lines on the London underground
2. In the year since I left London, I have become completely inept at using the London underground and I have become the suburban stereotype
3. After travelling miles to avoid them in the past, I have faced my nemesis, stairs, head on and on and on. They are OK, if a little bumpy.
4. By making ‘getting lost’ into an adventure, it is possible to keep a three year and two year old amused for much longer than you might think.
5. As does saying ‘Silly Billy Mummy’ and allowing them to chant the same thing
6. The belt from my leather jacket is more than just a pretty thing
7. Always carry string or similar tying - up type stuff
8. Good friends will understand as long as you give an apology, big smile and hug upon late arrival
9. People respond much better to you if you are laughing or relaxed than if you look like a stressed out mum – they don’t know what has happened in the last half hour and you can’t expect them to
10. Be flexible. If there is an alternative route, be open to it.
11. My kids are exceptionally patient and understanding under pressure
12. Jumping beans from the Science Museum are still as much fun as they were when I was little

 

 

 

So, what exercises did I do during this experience to reduce the stress and pressure of it?

 

1)    Will this matter in 1 hour? 1 day? 1 week?  No. Ok, so don’t stress about it now

2)    Is there a funny side to this? What would your husband/best friend/mum say when you tell them the story? Imagine their faces now and imagine you telling the story.

3)    Imagine you are with a friend who is experiencing the same thing. How would you want her to react? How do you think she would handle this? Try and be that person.

4)    What will stressing achieve here? Will you be able to change the situation? If not, don’t waste the energy being stressed. Also, a stressed mind is not a clear one so calm down before moving on.

5)    Accept that this is a stressful situation but you are capable of handling it. How proud will you be of yourself to rise above it?

6)    Smile. Pretend that you are OK and you will be a lot closer than if you scowl.

7)    Sing a song that makes you or the kids happy.

8)    Ask the kids what they think of what is happening. Their perspective is bound to make you smile.

9)    Is there anyway to achieve damage limitation? Send a text explaining what has happened to take the pressure off and buy a bit of time. If you are late, letting someone know as soon as possible is always preferable to just leaving them hanging and giving them time to get wound up.

10) Perspective is all - important. You are having trouble getting from A-B and will be a bit late to meet a friend. How much a big deal is that really? In the great scheme of life, love and war, does this even register on the radar? Come on, people deal with way more than this on a daily basis. 

Take Ten

This is another life coaching exercise within the happiness and perspective range. 

10 reasons why I am grateful for my body

 

1)    It provided a safe pod in which my babies could live and grow for 9 months

2)    It knew how to deliver these babies safely into the world without any problem

3)    It provided nutrition to my babies for 9 and 10 months respectively

4)    It ran the London marathon without too much complaint

5)    It has an excellent immune system and I am rarely ill

6)    It has a brain that may not be mensa standard but makes a consistent effort and is always capable of improving and growing

7)    It has curves that make me feel like a woman

8)    It has strong bones that have never been broken

9)    It has never had any problem seeing, hearing, smelling, touching or tasting

10)  It has never let me down

Just listing these makes me feel incredibly grateful. It makes me smile and walk with my head held a little higher.

Why do you appreciate your body?

Sofa v Treadmill

Motivational tip no. 233

 

Visualise yourself having done whatever it is that you require motivation for.

 

Example

I use this quite often for evening workouts.

 

The scenario

My husband is back from work, the kids are in bed, the house is warm and the wine is open. Why on earth would I want to leave this idyllic environment to face the freezing evening night to go and sweat it out for an hour?

 

The visualisation

I imagine how I will feel in an hour when I come back having completed the work out. My husband will still be there, the wine will still be there, the kids will still be asleep and I will feel amazing. I put on hold all my treats by just one hour and it will be worth every second. I will be much more relaxed with my husband and I will feel so much better about myself. The alternative, if I chose not to go to the gym and instead stayed in, is to feel guilty, sluggish, not enjoy my food, drink, husband or the warmth of my house so much. The choice is a no brainer…get out there and sweat it out!

 

By projecting myself into the future and imagining how good I will feel, it is normally enough to get me out of the door and once I am there I know I made the right decision. It is just the getting out of the house in the first place that provides a challenge.

 

Each time you make the choice, it becomes easier as you have more feel good feelings to reference. Remember, each time you do it, you are closer to creating a habit and habits are hard to break! 

Bumpy times

 

I have been thinking about my first pregnancy a lot recently as my friends are starting to have babies. I was one of the first amongst my peers as I became pregnant with my son at the relatively young age of 25. At the time, I did not feel young as, being so in-love, I was ready for whatever commitment our relationship grew into, whenever it happened. Becoming pregnant felt like the most natural thing to do and I didn’t plan or worry too much. I lived my pregnancy in a happy naivety, took just one pregnancy test (as opposed to the 5 tests I took when I was pregnant with my daughter), and just loved every moment.

 

Pregnancy, as long as you and your baby are healthy, can be a blissful time. I don’t think you really realise that a baby comes at the end of the 9 months until you are holding it. You plan, you imagine and you talk endlessly about it but nothing can truly prepare you for the experience of becoming a mother except becoming a mother.

 

As a pregnant lady, you are granted relief from all heavy tasks, you are the centre of attention, you are given seats and glasses water. You feel special and, when you have a bump, you feel visibly special. Yes, you may also feel fat, unattractive, uncomfortable and like everyone around you seems to be enjoying a few too many glasses of wine, but when your baby gives you a little kick, that can melt away in an instant.

 

You have instant conversation starters and lots to chat about with everyone. People can’t wait to give you advice and they want to hear all the details of what you are experiencing. You are instantly more approachable and seem softer as a human. I worked front of house on reception during my pregnancy and everyone from deliverymen to the most hard nosed manager were lovely to me. I’d also get first pick of the Friday cakes or left over donuts which was a bonus!

 

At the front of your mind throughout those precious months is your baby. Whatever you eat or touch you relate back to your baby. Whenever you move, lift or manoeuvre, you are thinking about your baby. Life goes on and you work and go out and sleep and eat but when you do each and every one of these things, you are thinking for two.

 

We found out I was pregnant less than 6 weeks before we got married so I was 9 weeks pregnant when I walked up the aisle. I did feel slightly sorry to miss out on the goats cheese starter I had selected, the Pimms on arrival and the wine and champagne but in hindsight, I am so glad I was pregnant as I clearly remember ever second of my wonderful day. I was a calm bride, there were few stresses before the big day as I would not do anything to risk upsetting my baby. I didn’t do a crazy pre - wedding diet so I looked healthy and glowing and with growing maturity, I am happier and more grateful for this.

 

I avoided the potential post - wedding blues as two days into being Mr and Mrs we had our first scan and saw the little guy and his pumping heart. Nothing could be any shade of blue after that.

 

So, as my friends glow with pride, stroke their bumps and talk about the future that awaits them, I smile and although part of me wishes that I too could be experiencing the miracle of growing the life of a baby again, I know that the best is yet to come for them. 

Multi-tasking

10 reasons why I love running my 10k on the treadmill at the gym:

 

1)    One hour work out  

2)    Listening to the radio

3)    Reading the subtitles of BBC News 24

4)    Looking after my heart and lungs

5)    700 calories

6)    Feeling of freedom

7)    Fabulous stress buster

8)    Endorphin high

9)    Feeling of success

10) Eating the left over Halloween chocolates after guilt free

Koala cuddles

So, my babies have been playing sickness tag. They have arranged to take it in turns I think and have been passing the baton since Monday night. I don’t know why they don’t want to be ill together or whether they have some energy source that must be shared and when one has it, the other wanes, or maybe they feed of each other’s vulnerability. I don’t know but I have had one or the other attached to me like a little koala for three days, day and night. Maybe they are sharing the illness so that neither has the full force of it – that’s a nice thought.

 

The benefit of slightly poorly babies is the extra cuddles, the snuggles and the excuse to drop everything and just give them 100% of myself knowing that everything else can wait yet I spend the whole time they are sick just wishing them better. Minor illness offers a slightly quieter time, yet I long for my boisterous and energetic babies running around and jumping on me.

When I put my daughter to bed and she just snuggled up cuddling Peppa, I wanted her to be jumping up and down demanding ‘Star Star’ (as in Twinkle) to be sung out of tune one more time. When my son sat quietly under a blanket for the entire Monster Inc DVD and didn’t move once, I was torn between loving the hour and a half snuggle but worrying that he was feeling poorly.

 

I find that my babies only want Calpol when they are well. This means that during sick tag, the wrong baby always wants the drugs. I know who is really sick as they don’t hurtle across the room desperate for the pink stuff. It is my own personal litmus test for the wellness or otherwise of my children. I don’t need a thermometer, I have purple sachets.

 

I realised this week that it’s been a while since they have been ill as I had to check the dosage allowed for each child. Always when you smugly mention ‘goodness, mine have avoided all bugs this year….’ then you remember ‘oops, I didn’t touch the wood’

 

Sleep and Love and Cuddles. 

Green Fingers

"Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth 
seeking the successive autumns." 


George Eliot

I am not really a natural gardener. Well I’m not really a tried or tested gardener so I don’t know. I can appreciate flowers and their contribution to making the world a much prettier and better place but I have never been driven to plant any myself.

I have grown mustard and cress in eggshells with the kids and enjoyed seeing it grow but struggle to remember to water a plant or move the herbs to reach the light…it doesn’t come naturally.

 

So, the garden was a mess. The front is the kid’s garden and the grass was embarrassingly long with the path invisible below the sheet of leaves. The back is the grown-up garden and the tables and concrete slabs were a bed of huge fig leaves and another type of leaf that comes from the big tree with yellow flowers in the middle.

 

When we first moved to this house, we had gardeners come and spend the morning sorting it out as the house had been empty for some time and the garden neglected. Having lived in apartments without gardens for some years, we knew we needed some help as we really didn’t know where to start and they did a fabulous job of clearing it all up and making it look presentable. My husband has worked on it over the summer, my in laws and my parents always insist on doing something to it when they come but now with my husband up to his eyes in work, weekends vanishing in a blink and my increasing feelings of guilt about our neighbour’s view from their window, I decided action must be taken!

 

After digging around in the surprisingly clean and spider free shed, I found a rake and a big garden looking brush, asked my three year old son how Papa uses the lawnmower (he was amazingly knowledgeable and on his advice alone, I worked out everything!) and three hours later, I am surveying our handiwork with pride!

 

My son loved the afternoon – getting his hands dirty, collecting up bundles of leaves and grass, finding bugs and being the ‘one who knew’ what to do! My daughter enjoyed around half an hour and then got bored and this fortunately coincided with her afternoon sleep. Still, if she takes after her mother, this behaviour will continue for approximately 27 more years.

 

I should have known that autumn would be the season that coaxed my inner gardener from wherever it has lain dormant for all these years. I have always had a soft spot for this season that is so reliable year in, year out. Autumn keeps it promise – the leaves turn yellow, gold, red and orange without fail and when the sun shines, it highlights the sensational colours nature produces in the otherwise traumatic death of summer beauty. I can’t kill anything, as it is already dead. Summer may be a wash out, spring may be rainy, winter may not bring the hope of snow but autumn, autumn makes the loss of summer a transition we can all accept as she does it so graciously and without fuss.

 

The mowing reminded me of doing a buzz cut on an enormous head and I had a great time of making patterns and playing in the grass (‘Papa doesn’t do it like that, he goes in straight lines’ Shhh, whatever!). I loved doing the final sweep up and took immense satisfaction in the enormous change my efforts had produced. I felt like He-man carrying the slide, the loungers and moving the wendy house as my son directed me to where they would be best left whilst I mowed and raked that part of the garden.

 

My son. The best bit had to be my son’s face as he realised that he had contributed so absolutely to the finished result and I was so proud of the three-hour concentration he had managed so effortlessly.

 

The next best bit is still to come…my husband’s face when he realises that he no longer needs to worry as I have done the job lingering over our heads for so long and he can relax without that nagging feeling of getting it done!

 

I celebrated my new found green fingers with some beautiful flowers from the shop chosen by my son. On my journey, I couldn’t help but notice all the leaves on the river path and I was itching to run home, grab my brush and clear every last one of those pesky leaves up…another cleaning OCD to add to my ever growing list….at least this one is seasonal!

Night night

And so the stories have been read and the songs have been sung and my babies are sleeping in their cosy beds. Their breathing has become regular and steady, their perfect faces are relaxed as they dream the dreams of the innocent and they are at total peace with the world. I look at their little faces and imagine what is being processed in their minds, what they have made of the events of the day, which faces they will remember, which voices will they be hearing. I give their impossibly soft cheeks a gentle kiss, careful to resist the urge to pick them up for one last snuggle, and wish them a safe and beautiful night sleep. Thank you babies for another gorgeous day. Night night. x

Be True

Be true to those who trust thee,
Be pure for those who care.
Be strong, for there is much to suffer,
Be brave, for there is much to dare.
Be a friend to all – the foe, the friendless.
Be giving and forget the gift.
Be humble, for thou knowest thy weakness.
And then, look up and laugh and love and live.

Anon

I love this poem especially for the last line. 

'And then, look up and laugh and love and live'

Well said. x