The Zumba bug

Haven’t blogged for ages but I am going to try and start again, truth is life has been really busy and it’s “me time” that has got pushed out. However, this week I caught the Zumba bug. First challenge was squeezing into my old gym gear, had to give up and buy a new top, but I was not deterred. Then I had to get Rohan to sleep in time to make it to the start of the class, this was quite difficult. How do children know when you need them to go to sleep quickly, and why, instead of cooperating do they insist on employing super human tactics to resist? I’ve never left Rohan at night and have to say it was extremely hard to do so, I felt awful driving off knowing he might wake up and scream at Darren until I got home, but I need to get back in shape and find a way to keep sane through all the changes going on at the moment. Anyway, I got to class and was surprised at how nervous I felt, I was really pleased to see a couple of familiar faces, until I started panicking about people I know seeing me make a complete arse of myself!

There was a real mix of people so I was hopeful I’d cope as well as could be expected for a first timer. Then half way through I thought I was going to pass out! It’s seriously hard work; it was one of those hot, sweaty moments when you think, “I hope I don’t hit my head when I fall”. The sensible thing to do at these moments is to stop, however, I couldn’t. I couldn’t because a very pregnant lady next to me is still going and hardly sweating, how can I stop for a breather when next to me someone is not only doing Zumba without a step out of place, but growing a baby at the same time. However, this was great motivation and I survived my first work out in two years without passing out, but only just! Now I have the Zumba bug, it’s like when you’re young, drunk and dancing without a care in the world, and without the first though about what you look like. I loved it, everyone’s in it together and no one cares if you’re so confused at the directions your legs are supposed to be going in that you forget to wave your arms. As soon I stop aching I’ll be going again, I’m aiming for two or three times a week. The best news was Rohan didn’t wake up while I was gone which means I won’t feel so bad about leaving him with Darren next time I go.  I can't wait!

Blended and steamed.

Blended and steamed.

I sometimes think I am a danger to myself. This weekend I have managed to blend and steam various body parts. Okay, slight exaggeration but I scalded my thumb taking the lid off the steamer-I’ve done this so many times before that I’m sure hamsters learn faster than I do. Just moments later,  I distractedly grope in the blender box for various sharp objects, “oh that’s super sharp” I think as a graze my finger on something-then I grab it regardless and see layers of my epidermis are now nicely sliced on its blade-what an idiot. If I can lack common sense so drastically I fail to see why I’m so surprised that Marley seemingly functions in a universe all of his own. Yesterday I asked him to fetch me Rohan’s coat and blue t-shirt off the kitchen table to find he returns with a hat???? I ask him what he went to fetch, he looks at his hand, slaps his head and says silly me and returns with a vest! I love him. Parts of his distraction is due to excitement as we are going to an indoor soft play area       (unless you can find a little known one, horrendous places crammed with screaming children who have too much energy for their parents to know what to do with on a rainy day), I send him to change his jeans so he looks a little more presentable and less like he belongs to a Mum who can’t even cook without inflecting various degrees of damage to multiple digits. Despite being so excited, when he doesn’t reappear after ten minutes, I find him sat reading a book and have to chivvy him along with short bursts of instructions, “jeans off-no not boxer shorts put them back on-now clean jeans out of draw-no wearing shorts won’t be a good idea-now jeans on-wrong way-turn them round-no you have to take them off to turn them round, you can’t just twizzle them around your legs-why not? Ermmm, because that’s just the way jeans are made, yes I know you can do that with your jumper but these are jeans and we are late and will never get there, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.

We seem to be hurrying everything now Marley is at school. We have adopted a pet ear lobe monster who comes and painfully devours his ear lobes if he doesn’t get dressed in ten minutes, Darren does a great Monster voice and throwing it from the bathroom has thus far proved effective. Then when he comes home he has to hurriedly get changed ready for tea, then we eat tea quickly so there is time to play. Can you see why we spent the best part of the Christmas holidays in our pyjamas? I must admit I am quite slack at fitting homework and reading in. I’m not one of the parents who insist their child’s book is changed every day (besides, I know how important comprehension is). He’s exhausted when he comes home and sometimes just getting out the car is too much effort.

As I seem to be enjoying blogging I feel it is important that I highlight a few things. For someone who is supposedly intelligent, I find this hard to believe after events such as the steaming and blending, I have awful punctuation, spelling and grammar (ironic as I went to a Grammar school and have an A level, in fact at grade B, in English Language). The Head Teacher at the school I was employed at used to joke that he’d employed the world’s only dyslexic teacher. He wasn’t too far off. At primary school I was given lots of tests as I was classed as “highly intelligent but unable to write for toffee”. This was unusual in someone with a high reading ability so I went to a lovely lady who we called the “fuzzbuzz lady” for various tests. I never knew what they came up with except that I was possibly ambidextrous and cross dominant (left eye dominance, mostly right handed ). I was tested for dyslexia at university as my tutor happened to be an expert in the field and expected I was after reading the first draft of my research project. I came out as borderline and his theory is that as I have a high iq I have learnt ways around it?? Actually, I don’t know if that’s true, I believe I perform well in exam conditions and actually if I’m truthful, just can’t be bothered to learn how to spell or punctuate, it just takes the fun out of writing. So to any purists out there, I apologise, however I do promise to never abbreviate “laugh out loud”.

Now I must hurry off to baby massage.

A whole year on

Well it’s a year on since I last blogged and we all know the reason I was feeling so hungry! What an amazing year, it’s been filled with both tremendous heartache and over powering joy.

January bought a positive pregnancy test, actually it bought about 12! I don’t have a very good history of getting through the first trimester and taking tests at every twinge was my way to keep a little sanity. Then the deliberating morning sickness kicked in and I have to say I was over the moon! Marley is the only other pregnancy I have had morning sickness with, so this gave me a lot of reassurance.

We had a holiday in Scotland booked for Skiing and snow play in Febuary, which was fantastic, I obviously had to cancel skiing, but my oldest  little boy got to have his first ever go and gave it his all. There were a few scary moments; I relaxed so much I wasn’t sick for a day and a half. I’m pleased to say it returned on the way down a very treacherous mountain, it had snowed so much off the mountain while we were skiing, that it was almost impossible to get back to the cottage. We employed a method of driving down hills as fast as we dared in the hope of making it up the next one, it could be argued this would be nausea inducing in anyone, regardless of whether there was a little person trying to make a home inside them. The other scary moment was when Darren and Marley went to feed a reindeer herd in the mountains. I was advised not to go as the snow was very deep and it was quite a trek, so I sat in the car. The nature of the walk was such that we all drove up a mountain in convoy behind a ranger, and then parked in a line facing down the mountain before wondering off into the wilderness. As I’m sat in the car trying to force a Turkish delight down, I am horrified to realise that the car is rolling towards the car in front of us! I am pleased to say I manage to react quiet quickly and pull the hand break on even further, and I am very lucky that the car managed to find some purchase on the ice. I had horrific visions of a domino effect of cars rolling down an icy mountain. I shakily decide it’s safer outside the car, so spend the next half hour shivering on the side of a mountain waiting for Darren to return and then for the cars in front of us to filter off the mountain so we dare move.  Apart from that and an episode where I thought Darren was lost on the tiny roads one icy night (he was actually stuck in a car park), we had a lovely time, sledging , walking and just enjoying each other.

Unfortunately the weekend we returned I lost one of the most important people in my life, my wonderful Gramps who had played the role of both father and granddad for the first 10 years of my childhood.  I was fortunate to spend a lovely day with him the day before we left for Scotland as some strange inner impulse had made me cancel other plans and just spend some time with him. We went through old photos, had cups of tea and laughed lots. He knew that I was pregnant and that the little one would have the middle name Stanley if he was a boy, I can be okay about him going as it didn’t seem untimely, however I miss him like crazy and something simple like feeling the first cold wind of “back end”, or seeing the first cows in the fields can set me off into floods of tears.  Breaking the news to Marley was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, and seeing him grieve for the first time was incredibly tough. But I am lucky to have been helped to grow into who I am by such a genuinely wonderful and lovely man.

Summer was hot and long, my twelve week scan came and gave us all some great reassurance. The 20 weeks scan confirmed that baby Rohan was growing on track and seeming a little large in the tummy department! However, my placenta was too low and I was petrified by the information I was given about the condition. We had a private scan at 28 weeks, at which the placenta was still low, so I spent a lot of summer being very cautious.

We had a lovely holiday in Cornwall and a great time doing the little things in life that are somehow able to make anyone feel on a natural high; eating ice cream, building sandcastles and going crabbing.  

I had a scan at 34 weeks that showed that the placenta had moved but now they were concerned about how big Rohan looked and the large amount of amniotic fluid. I’m scared senseless again! I also end up with an overnight stay in hospital due to regular contractions.

At 36 weeks I took Marley to the doctors for something and mentioned that I couldn’t stop itching, the doctor did some blood tests, “to rule out anything serious”. I got a phone call on the Wednesday to tell me, “not to panic but.....” Long story short, I was diagnosed with Obstetric Choleastasis  and induced on the  Saturday. Due to the disgraceful issues labour wards and midwives are facing, Rohan didn’t get to make his appearance until the Thursday, weighing a whopping 9lb 6oz. People keep asking me if I was sure on my dates, yes, we had a scan at 6 weeks 2 days that showed a tiny little squiggle with a hearbeat, he was also measuring to dates at 12 weeks. He is a lovely, cuddley, chunky monkey who is following the same growth percentiles as he was in utero.

We are all totally in love, I am not going to try to document the joy he is bringing us all as I don’t believe it’s possible for me to convey just how wonderful his arrival is for us all. Marley has been wonderful, and is an amazing big brother, thinking of what he has been through in a year, and how well he has handled it, brings tears of pride to my eyes.

So there is my year in brief, I think it reflects the delicate balance of life beautifully.

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What to do first

I still haven’t decided what my blog is really about, just a chance for me to mumble on really, I may just call it unlabelled, I like that, it says allot.

Well, onto today. Not the best really, but I’m trying not to let the little misdemeanours spoil it.  The day started with a request from my son, “ Mummy, please can I have a bath with one of your lovely, colourful, bath balls,” the lovely colourful bath balls he is referring to are one of my Christmas presents, a huge selection on lush bath products that are ridiculously expensive and luxurious, and, I add, MINE.  Behaving like the 4 year old my son is, I just want to save every precious one for me, I even ordered a  few for him, but these are not as interesting as the bright blue or pink ones in my box, or the selection I ordered to give out as gifts. Being the grown up I reportedly am, I practice what I preach and cut it in half to share with him. This creates a lovely mess for me to clear up, as does the amazing amount of seaweed Lush seem to have packed into a very small ball, which has now clogged up the plughole and attached itself to the side of the bath. Never mind, my child is cleansed, moisturised and smelling like a lady.

We then don all our outdoor clothes to go and build a snowman, we have a great time, we both are rosy cheeked and beaming. I then suggest a walk to the park, this is where things start to go wrong.  My little man manages to bump his nose on a springy motorbike, obviously because he has his best bright green coat on, his nose, disproportionally to the little bump, decides to poor with blood. Of course I have no tissue and the blood is quickly staining his coat-I am ashamed to admit I actually think “ Quick get his coat off”, however the cold and tears register at the same time and I stem the bleeding with his hat ( I don’t have one on, I gave it to the snowman) whilst cuddling him to me and carrying him home. Halfway home he wants to go back to the park, I manage to convince him going home and playing snowballs is a better idea, so off we stumble home. Upon arriving home my little soldier is fine, he follows me into the garage so I can check the temperamental tumble drier. While I am fiddling around trying to coax the drier to work for another half hour, some little hands in quite expensive, waterproof gloves, find their way into some jelly laced with red food colouring topped off with three months worth of mould (My darling husband was meant to clean this out three months ago after I designed a disastrous party activity which stained every ones hands red, however it seems he has just replaced the cover of the play tray and left the mess for me to find in Spring). I must have looked horrified as a “I’m so sorry” melts my heart before I have chance to say a word. I am horrified, I’m a notorious worrier and my little boy has just come into contact with some serious looking mould, I’ll be worrying about this for weeks.  However, I am soon distracted as the mould topped, food colouring laced jelly has transferred from gloves to already blood stained coat in a matter of seconds. I traipse us inside, strip us off (inevitably we both stand in melting pools of snow in our nice dry socks while doing this) and head for the stain remover, at which point there are floods of tears and wails of “I’m hungry and I need a cuddle”. Vanish in hand, I look at my small child who’s crying is now making his nose bleed again, and don’t know what to do first, I opt for; hug, continue hug while spraying clothes, open washer door with screwdriver( as the handle came off in my hand several months ago, however the washer is otherwise fine )whilst still hugging bleeding, crying child, wash child’s hands and face, tickle child to make him smile again, rewash child as tickling brought on more nose bleeding. This is the point I decide to make some nice warm weetabix with raisins, his favourite food, however the bag of raisins split and I manage to spill half a kg of small but incredibly sticky raisins all over the work top and floor, we’ll be finding them stuck to our socks for weeks. I have no time to bang my head up the wall as small child is now trying to wrestle a six pint of milk out the fridge! At this point the postman arrives, so food made, I sit down with my mail while my clean child begins to cover himself and the table with weetabix. “Great I’ve been paid” I think how quick this month’s payment was only to discover I’ve been paid a very considerable amount  short! Of course it’s Saturday so I can’t ring to sort this out. I begin to panic about why and this month’s mortgage payment.  It’s snowed for the best part of three weeks and work has been snowed off lots so I’m imagining next month’s pay cheque will be minimal to top this off. My usual bubbly, optimistic, self is feeling pretty much the opposite. But then my small weetabix encrusted child attaches himself to me and says “Mummy let’s have a dance”, and I’m smiling again even more so when we jump off the sofa and I hit my head on a beam. There’s more to life than worrying about stains and problems that will come out in the wash.

New Year

Okay, so Christmas is over-packed up and ready for the next one. The limbo week between Christmas and New Year is safely out the way, time to start the New Year with all the resolve in the world right? Wrong. I made two basic resolutions and have broken them both already. Resolution number one, very obvious-a New Year Diet to lose the five pound I have somehow piled on in December. Browsing through magazines still within the Christmas date, I’m overwhelmed with images of homely kitchens baking sumptuous treats. Knowing that the only things I can make are a long way from sumptuous and only judged as treats by the foxes and badgers who clear up my attempts after they have been hurled out the window, I brake the New Year diet and dive into a mince pie with obvious oodles of cream, “need to use up the cream “ is my excuse. I use the same excuse when devouring a four egg omelette with Spinach and feta cheese oh and the rest of the cheese board.  However, I have won another round of mind games with the unopened Christmas pudding in the pantry-small result surely?

More quality time with my child is my other resolution. School in September, it seems very close at the moment and I want to cram in lots of fabulous days out and lovely Mother and Son moments.  Yesterday he decided he wanted to watch Lightening McQueen while playing with his new car characters from the film. “Okay” I think, it’s freezing outside so this is a good activity, I get down on the floor to join in as there is more playing than watching, but I am truly inept at keeping up with my small child’s enormous imagination, I’m getting it all wrong and saying the wrong things, my usually laid back little man has obviously mapped out a very complex set of events and dialogue in his very wacky imagination. No problem I think, he’ll be bored soon-wrong again, he keeps at this ALL DAY , I would usually beat myself up about this, call the Mum police, my child has not moved out the same room all day. However as I watch him play it dawns on me that he really is “playing”, the type of playing that I am pleased still exists in my little boy who is quickly growing up. The dvd has played to it’s end and he is still totally engrossed in play acting stories with his cars evident in the immense jiggling and sudden dash upstairs when necessity takes hold. Surely this is better than me trying to pack his day with all the wonderful activities I had planned, sometimes I wonder if I encourage him to only pay attention for short bursts of time before moving onto the next thing? Anyway he’s happy so I’m happy, and at the end of the day I get “invited” to come and take photos of the winning cars.

So New Year new start? No, after all, Rome wasn’t built in a day and there are still heaps of leftovers in the fridge.