Wedding Dress

Want to skip gym but "the wedding dress" mantra keeps me focused.

PMT

You know you got PMT, when the sound of children laughing , makes you want to  reach out grab their little lapels and give them and good telling off for being happy and having fun. How very dare they be happy to be alive.
If the kids are leaping about, squealing with glee and generally making hay while the sun shines ... they are probably stamping on my nerves.
As my son says "mummy , your job is to spoil people's fun. Your the fun spoiler."

Abs

I have been going to the gym at least once a week for nearly a year . Sure there have been times when I have not attended, just couldn’t get there during the summer holidays. However overall I have been good. I started with no stomach muscles. Oh , let me re phrase that because I do and did have them but they just served no purpose; they didn’t work, as they were never in use. When I tried a sit up, the mind progressed through the movement but the body was in a state of paralysis. Anyway using balls, great big ones and half spheres too, I have followed exercises shown to me by my personal trainer to activate my abs. A year later, I am now at the point whereby I can perform a sit up ta da! Thus I have been attending 15 min abs classes and by Jove I feel a change a coming.. Rocking my hard bod I got Gav to have a look and feel. I lifted my top , to expose my 8 pack albeit in the making Staring blankly at my trunk he eventually said “ ahhh I think there might be some slight improvement.” Not one to be defeated and truly feeling as though my tummy was almost at washboard standard I demanded he had a feel “underneath,” I said “the muscle is underneath, you see if you press you can feel it, it’s underneath, underneath. IT’S UNDERNEATH THE FAT . Ignore the fat and focus on the muscle, good damn you”

Hmmmm I don’t think the improvement is significant to the untrained eye but I can definitely feel it and feel great for it .

Escargot

Yesterday my son told me “I want to try French snails.” Interesting I thought , so I responded “ ahhh yes, they are a French delicacy. The French call them call them escargot. Why do you want to try them? ”
After a few seconds he said “Horrid Henry had them and he said they were like chewing gum.’

I love his innocent understanding ;what a shock he would have ,if he were to try one soon.

Actually it has made me think about , how much information my kids get from TV. I do remember a conversation about being gay. I heard Teia mention the word. He said it meant happy or when a man loves a man. I quizzed him "who told you that?" Without a second thought he said "Homer. "

Zen mummy turns psycho

I have a black eye and it is developing quickly. It changes colour and size every few hours, fascinating.
The fatal blow was delivered via the inverse headbutt. If you have spent anytime around children , you’ll know what I mean. For those who don’t know, it goes like this: Adult stands over child or holds a toddler , who is in tantrum mode. Then child child jumps up or jolts back , flipping head southwards to strike a killer blow. They know what they are doing, tis no accident. They want to inflict pain and maybe see some blood.

My black eye is the result of my eldest son leaping to his feet , crack KO!
The context ....
I have had a few epiphanies recently regarding parenting. Basically I am trying , very hard to : listen more, say maybe instead of NO, negotiate, compromise, be more understanding and use an elaborate language code .Nope I didn’t do this before, well not much . It was my way or the high way, rush –rush, shhh shhhh, not now later, stop that or else. I have always felt like I oil the cogs of this family. Would there be a bedtime time routine and swimming club id it weren’t for me? Well there’d be no one to take them but hey I couldn’t afford to pay, which is where daddy comes in. Anyway the new chilled tolerant and zen like mummy that I have become, was negotiating with Teia . I wanted him to start homework. First I let him watch the end of Scooby Doo, then I agreed to have a pre homework game of chess. Teia procrastinated , then finally he walked butler fashion to the HW table to set up the board. En route he dropped all the pieces and duly blamed me. He shouted ‘ why don’t you pick them up, I do everything.’ Staying calm, I took a deep breath and replied ‘I pick up after you all the time, if you drop something, you pick it up, that’s how it goes.’
Mantra ....Zen.... Zen..... zen .... Meditation... intuition... Calm.....fluffy white clouds... bunnies....don't hurt him, for he knows not what he is saying.
I stood over him while he picked them up . Then suddenly he leapt to his feet. At that point I was transported to a place called anger and pain. Automatically I began to attack an inanimate object. The door to the sitting room was the closest thing. I grabbed it then slammed it and whacked it against the sofa. I saw paint fly off as I karate chopped it. The weird thing is that I seemed to stop after 4 digs, then started again till I reached 6. The pause was comedic, it was like someone was walking me away saying ‘ don’t do it, the door ain’t worth it.’ instead of listing to my invisible friend I went back to finish the job ... Yeh baby I am a bad ass mo fo. No door is gonna get the better of me.

I returned to Zen mummy after a 5 min psychotic episode. Thank the lord, I was able to fight the desire to bang on for a further 3 hours. Looking back , I was prepared for bad behaviour, moaning and a contrary attitude. However ABH had been omitted from the list. Now it most definitely at the top.

H is for Hayes

Today I met a fellow dog walker who has lived in Hayes for 56 years. Betty said ‘ people don’t leave Hayes, they move around but they stay in the area,everyone's happy in Hayes.’ Ironic as although I was enjoying the scenic spoils of Hayes , I was not happy but that’s another story. Funny I thought that lots of places beginning with H are salubrious and possibly where lots of the inhabitants are happy . Like where? I here you ask, well you’ve got Henly, Harrogate, Herfordshire, Hampstead,Hamptons, Hollywood need I list more. My dad has an opposing opinion,he reckons he couldn’t live here. He needs hustle bustle, dirt grime, ethnic markets and cultural diversity. He reckons that he’s not ready to die, which is interesting because an Estate Agent told me that ‘the only way you leave Hayes is in a coffin.’ The latter views should be disturbing but they are not to me , because at present I want good schools, low crime (non if possible), clean streets and lovely parks and commons for Rugby and Cricket. Yes, cultural diversity would be nice . For now I am happy to fly the Eurasian flag and maybe sometime in the future a little Asian shop will open on the high street and there'll be people living her to buy from it.

Indoctrinated into my own family

A waning desire to go out coincides with a lack or little to no ability to hold my drink or cope with a hang over. So nights out are few and far between. I want and need to be with it for the kids. Need to be good mum and on the ball. I think such aspirations are normal and I’m happy to have them. Days and stages roll by so quickly , I remember when I first heard the pharse ‘bedtime routine.’Such Questions would roll off every monthers’ tongue ‘breast or bottle? how many bottles is he having? What time is bedtime? does he have a bedtime routine?’ The BTR has become an essential part of my day , as is the same for many other mothers. Preparing children for and putting them to sleep , is a serious business, tempers fray, tears are shed , bottoms smacked, stories told and finally if your lucky your little one sleeps .It is funny that something that was so new is now so normal and integral part of my day. Children and family life is simultaneously draining and rewarding. Toddler years are filled with 1 o’clock groups and nursery. The big jump to school is great because by 5 a child is ready , arguably to begin learning , albeit through play. For us mums , running the gauntlet that is the schoolrun, is interesting to say the least , sometimes it’s fun and at other times it is dreaded. I tell you more about that, another time.
I am lucky enough to have my folks near by to help. Many a time I have dozed off and Papa and Nanny have taken over as stand in parents. Over the years I have grown out of such dozing because the restrictions of BTR, school run, homework and clubs dictates that I am virtually always on the go .Just last week I was horizontal on the spare bed at Papa’s house. It would have been cool to just doze of and sleep BUT worringly I began to think of the ironing, the BTR and even consequences for the following morning . So instead taking a break when I could , I leapt to my feet carried on with the duties for the rest of the day. That’s it I thought , I’ve been indoctrinated into my own family.I didn't even own an iron until 2 years ago.24 months later and I'm rushing home to iron tea clothes. Between the 3 of them Teia, Luca and Gav have got me worrying about the inanely boring ironing instead of having a well deserved rest.

PS Ironing isn't so boring , as I recently had a brain wave, watch 4od or Iplayer whilst doing it. Ironing isn't half as bad when your watching "have I got news for you."