28 Jun 2012

If I had a superpower

What would yours be? Something cool, no doubt. Like being able to fly or super strength.

The pre-mummy me probably would have chosen being able to fly. What an adrenaline rush and a great way to beat the traffic. Who needs to be more patient now, suckers. That would be my retort as I revved up my cape.

The post-mummy me would choose something a little more practical. Something to make the day go a little more smoothly and a lot easier.

My super power would be super speed, where the world stood still as I went at my own pace.

Just imagine this.

I'd start with a looong warm shower. The kind where your finger tips turn wrinkly even though you're not even in the bath. The kind where you're not in and out within 30 seconds, with soap suds still sticking to you and shouting "I'll just be a minute".

Then I'd enjoy my weetabix before the milk turns them into soggy mush. I'd savour the semi crunchy texture in my mouth.

Next, I'd make it out of the house with hair that isn't wet and not thrown back. Maybe I'd even indulge in more than concealer for the bags under my eyes and blusher so I look half alive. Heck, I might even have time to pluck my eyebrows and other places that hair seems to grow on my face.

Then I'd curl up on the sofa with my favourite book right before the mayhem that is dinner, bath and bed time.

To top off my super day, I'd get a couple of hours of shut eye before the night waking begins but without having to go to bed early.

Then at the end of my super day I'd probably miss all of the mayhem and wish my super power was to be super normal!.


Photo credit: http://www.leukemiasurvivor.co/2012/04/do-not-like-new-test-results-if-i-had.html

26 Jun 2012

My friend, the whirlwind.











I have a friend
Who you can't see
She's invisible
But not to me


She stands up tall
And spins around
Her arms and legs
Don't touch the ground.

Her name? Whirlwind
She follows me
All around my
House so you see

In the kitchen
We open drawers
Pull out knives, spoons
And all the forks

Pile up pots, pans
Plates and saucers
And splash around
In the water.

Washing machine
It isn't free
From the clothes we
Pile up with glee.

Moving onto
The bathroom too
Paint with toothpaste
Don't flush the loo.

The bedroom looks
A little scared
When it sees us
Approaching there.

Hide and seek we
Play with the clothes
Until they pile up
All over our toes.

The living room
Says bring it on
And the carpet
Joins in the fun.

Crumbs from cookies
We've eaten there
And all our toys
That we did share.

When my mummy
Sees all this mess
I feel I should
And do confess.

It was not me
Mum, that did it
It was the whirl-
Wind that did hit.

And so completes
Another round
Another climb
The housework mound.


Photo credit: http://blog.charitynavigator.org/2011_08_01_archive.html

25 Jun 2012

The daily workout

As I encounter the plethora of buggy fit adverts and advocates, i'm left feeling lazy about my lack of exercise.

An incentive came in the form of a wardrobe clear out. I discovered some lovely pre-pregnancy clothes that I wish I could fit into again, without the risk of ripping them at the seams. Then there was Lady F's hint. She discovered my belly button. When she tried to pincer grasp it, it wobbled. She laughed hysterically. Thank you for your support!

Don't get me wrong, i'm not afraid of exercise, i used to be quite fit in my pre-pregnancy days. I sometimes wish I had the inclination to join all of these, as I imagine them to be, Claudia Schiffer style mothers, star jumping in a muddy field. In fact, when people ask me what sports i'm involved in, running feels like a fair answer. "Yes, i've run competitively a few times" is my response. Even though it was s 5k 2 years ago and it was the last time my feet and running trainers met, but I don't need to elaborate.

Exercising on top of the complete lack of sleep, breastfeeding and being an all round professional stay at home mother, is too much of a disincentive.

One evening the boy and I had a 'let's see how fit we are challenge'. We took it in turns to pant like 80 year old women, red faced and sweaty through star jumps, sit ups and stomach crunches. The next day (and week) the boy complained about how sore his muscles were. I, on the other hand, had forgotten all about our workout session. Then it hit me. I already have a daily personal fitness plan. My instructor is Lady F and my gym is our home. This is how if looks:

Weight lifting: 10 times an hour, for varying durations, from 6:30am until 6:30pm. Weights range from minimal (toys) to 19lbs ( my instructor, who is experiencing separation anxiety). This exercise can be increased in intensity by weightlifting multiple weights or adding other activities such as cooking, brushing teeth, dancing, getting dressed, getting in and out of the car etc, etc at the same time, respectively.

Treadmill: Pacing to light jog whilst carrying 19lbs at various speeds for approx 15 minute intervals at 9am and 1pm i.e nap times. Personal sound track includes tired whinging noises. Increase the intensity by performing it ad hoc in the middle of the night.

Rowing (arms only): As necessary. Wiping work surfaces, hoovering, brushing up, dishes, dusting, making beds etc etc. Increase the intensity by inviting friends and family round.

Zumba: As and when required to keep the entertainment level high for the little one. Increase the intensity by performing it in different positions and levels in different voices whilst pulling faces.

Squats: 10 times an hour, hourly from 6:30am until 10pm. Increase the intensity by picking things up on your way down i.e socks, cups, bits of food, toys etc etc.

So, there's no need to feel bad about not attending a scheduled exercise class. My daily work out is still happening. I just didn't realize it until now.


Photo credit: http://chrisga262.blogspot.co.uk/2011/03/in-defense-of-exercise.html

19 Jun 2012

"Life in all its simplicity is indeed complicated"




Before I had Lady F,  I would never have believed that her basic little needs could be so, well, complicated. She'll just lie there waiting to be changed and fed until she blissfully drifts off into a peaceful slumber for the night. Right? Wrong. Meeting Lady F's basic needs is not as easy as it seems. So, i have a system to simplify the daily challenges. It is as follows:

Firstly, there are the needs that i've figured out how to happily meet. The stuff only I could write the manual on because i've taken the phrase, trial and error, to a new level. The stuff i've spent hours talking to virtual and real mummy friends about. The stuff I've spent every day (and night) watching and learning, desperate to make my life a little less chaotic.

For example, during nappy changing time Lady F likes to perfect her Great Escape manouvere. However, I pride myself on knowing how to stop her wriggly limbs from flipping over into a get away crawl. My technique? Lie her under her favourite lampshade. That's right, my daughter has a favourite lampshade. To be fair to her the bulb containers are fish. Thank you, Ikea.

If that fails, my next move is to make a crazy sound. Her arms and legs will stop mid flip and she'll turn back to practice her "mum, I think you're crazy, please don't embarass me in front of my future boyfriends" face. (I'll try with the embarassment but you wish on the having a boyfriend front!)

The second category consists of needs I've never figured out how to fully meet. This is irrespective of how hard I've tried. I haven't given up on this stuff yet though.

Lady F has never been a great sleeper. She's nearly 10 months old and has still not slept through the night. "I don't mind though" is a lie I often tell friends that boast of their nightly triumphs, through zombie eyes coated with multiple layers of concealer.

Take the car as another example as one sleepy area I've never figured out. When Lady F is tired she sometimes falls asleep in the car and other times cries and cries and cries. Why can she do it sometimes and not others?

That's when the experiments begin. Maybe it's because she was listening to music the last time she slept in the car? Cue music. Nope. Maybe it's because she's not relaxed enough before she's in the car. Cue relaxing time before we hit the road. Nope. Last time she fell asleep she had her sippy cup. Cue sippy cup. Nope, and now she has wet trousers.

I just can't figure it out. That is the point, for sanity's sake, that I convince myself it's not important and she'll learn one day...

Finally, there's the grey area. Needs I've previously figured out how to meet but there's a temporary blip.

Lately, Lady F has been teething terribly. Her poor little gums are so sore that she's refusing to eat. All my old tricks of aeroplane noises, finger foods, pretending to eat it first are just that, old tricks. Even my over the top yummy noises have failed so I've tried everything else. I've tried to tempt her with all of her favourite foods. I've offered her new foods that looked exciting. At one point I got so desperate for her to eat something I tried to tempt her with a sugar filled iced lolly that she had always tried previously to chow down on. Nothing worked.

Until today.

As I was cooking, I passed Lady F a tomato. I explained to her that it was red, round and what it tasted like. Without worrying that she'd eat it, because of her food aversion at the moment, I turned my attention back to the dinner. A few moments later, I turned back to Lady F to find a suspiciously gooey red mouthed grin and bits of tomato hanging from the gaps between her teeth.

Just when you think you have it all figured out life throws you a lemon, or in this case a tomato.

Needless to say she didn't eat her dinner. Tomatoes for breakfast, anyone?


Photo credit: http://mywonderfulworldofcooking.blogspot.co.uk/

14 Jun 2012

The Sleep Monster















The sleep monster
Is his name
And stealing sleep
Is his game.

He likes to play
At mid-night
But also comes
Out in light.

A Chame-le-on
He can be
A lit-tle tooth
Brea-king free.

A sore tum-my
You can't see
But he's in there
Tick-ling me.

He tells the sun
To burn bright
So it's hard to
Sleep at night.

On mums' eye-lids
He pulls down
Until she's wear-ing
Quite the frown.

Then he piles up
All the sleep
He's coll-ec-ted
In a heap.

Count-ing how many
Hours he's won
While he has had
So much fun.

But for my mum
He comes back
With a life-line
Pow-er nap!

The sleep monster
Is his game
And stealing sleep
Is his game.


Photo credit: http://saraweingartner.wordpress.com/

13 Jun 2012

Living in the now


Last weekend was the last day of the bank holiday weekend in celebration of the Queen serving for 60 years on the throne. I'm not particularly patriotic but will admit to being a little swept up in red, white and blue fever.


I love a bit of community spirit and as each community came together to party it did make me feel good to be British. Especially so, as we drove past decorated villages with villagers huddling under marquees, determined not to let the torrential rain dampen their spirits. Good for them we said as we drove by in our clean dry car, peering out at another muddy and wet sack race.


We celebrated in another traditionally English way, come rain or shine. With a BBQ. The men huddled around the billowing smoke looking proudly on at the fire they had created to cook the meat they had hunted and gathered from the shelves of Costco. We women chit chatted inside. The day was completed with a union jack decorated cake. We had done our bit for Queen and country. We had sacrificed ourselves to potential food poisoning and pneumonia until another 10 years passes and we're called up again to have the day off work to stand in the rain eating pink sausages.


We had talked of the Queen fondly and what a great king Prince Willy would make. The only qualifying factor seemed to be his hamdsome horse face though.


It got me thinking. About how i spend a lot of time remembering a rosier past and a greener future. Wasn't it a mere 15 years ago that Queenie was out of favour with the country? How she was still going strong but we were already replacing her.


If you've had a conversation with me in the last 10 months about living in London you'll recognize this response:
"The shopping is unparaleled. The entertainment is some of the best in the world. We could see West End shows at the drop of a hat. There are world class art galleries and museums, all for free. Why, oh why did we leave!?" I wail.


What I've forgotten is the sweaty, crammed tube rides to get anywhere. Especially, holding on for dear life, nose squashed up against a sweaty armpit and not being offered a seat at 8 months pregnant. The fact that shopping now is pretty non existant on one income. The same goes for shows and no babysitters. The tiny box flats you live in, the intimidating kids on the streets, the inconsiderate neighbours, the pollution, the traffic etc.


Don't get me wrong, I had a great time but it was definitely time to leave.


Then there was the conversation I had with a friend(s) about how we'd love to live in another country. Somewhere warm and, no, that was it. Just warm. I wished for California. Where the sun shines and beaches are warm and sandy. Friends would drop into our big house. Heck, we might even get to know our neighbours. Crazy! Life would be one big party!


I haven't given up on living abroad for a couple of years at some point but i'm forgetting that life is pretty perfect right here and now.


I love our little home and how the boy has put so much effort into making it a modern masterpiece. I love my adorable Lady F and the way she cracks me up with her constant rasperry blowing and infectious giggles. I love the open green spaces on our doorstep, a perfect place for little ones to get muddy, run around and squeal at the top of their voices. I love the little community i live in and all the lovely mummy friends I've made.


So, go on. I challenge you too. Count your blessings. One, two, three.


And in the words of the mighty Red Hot Chilli Peppers...'I hope you have the time of your life'.