Motivation

The football is on in the background with the constant vuvuzela hum that shall be my soundtrack for the next fortnight. OH is sitting next to me playing with the baby, making loud cooing, booing and imitation vuvuzela noises that the baby is lapping up, giggling and cooing in return. I have to exercise and I cannot be bothered.

I refrained from eating chilli dogs with him and opted for some bread made with what appears to be bird seed. Do I go out for my walk/jog even though its incredibly dark outside and surely to rain? Do I attempt a celebrity work out DVD or do I play on Wii fit for awhile? Regardless of my choice I know I will be wearing my Easytones.

I have a specific occasion in mind as my motivation for losing the excess baby weight(not that I will stop at that point) and it's connected to OH's upcoming birthday. No more shall be said as he is currently next to me on the sofa.

But the daily motivation comes from images of the Reebok advertising campaign and the celebrities currently seen endorsing those trainers. Not that I will ever achieve anything close, but I can definitely improve.
Every time my laziness kicks in, I just have to look at the following...

My namesake Kelly Brook who is endorsing the Easytones for an advertising campaign.

Helena Christensen (mother of one and aged 41)

And the original ad campaign

Reebok EasyTones Update

My legs shake and my feet feel incredibly tired but I'm pretty proud of myself and Ava.

Today we walked five miles through four villages in the heat of the midday sun. Okay, we are hardly overwhelmed with sunshine and glorious weather but it was definitely more than warm on our journey.

Since having Indigo I have been unable to diet having zero willpower even though I am desperate to lose the baby weight quickly. Actually, I have no will-power at all when it comes to food and am one of those types of people that successfully finds an excuse to eat. At times of sadness or happiness, when stressed or relaxed and times of celebration or commiseration my thoughts always turn to food. Weighing myself after the birth, I was startled to discover I was lighter than before I conceived, reason being a full nine months of hyperemesis graviduim aka extreme morning sickness, however the novelty of being able to eat again and the uncontrollable feeling of starvation when breastfeeding caused me to simply caved and binge. Food stuff that I haven't tasted during this pregnancy such as cereal is now a drug for me. Yes, Honey Nut Cornflakes are my smack and although I can just about restrain myself from getting up in the night for a bowl, I have polished of a full 12 portions during one particularly hungry day. 
In my mind, my actions are justified. I am feeding another human being, her survival dependant on my ability to create good quantity of quality milk. Surely If I crave cereal then it is what my body needs for this process. I'm hardly sitting in the corner chomping on a multi pack of Monster Munch and a family sized Galaxy bar, even though I easily could.

Anyway, the inability to eat healthily and sparsely has been frustrating, so I decided to tackle it from another angle…Exercise.

Surely, if an effort was made to push my tired and lazy body through some gruelling regime then that would make some difference.

This being the reason why, I purchased the Reebok Easytones.

If I can start to feel fitter and healthier, then perhaps the diet will be a natural progression.

So a new game has developed call Abandonment. Other Half drops me at a certain location, 2 miles away then times my mission back home. I walk as fast as I can, which is by no means power walking but will attempt a little jog too.

My first abandonment was unsuccessful and I realised that this game required a sports bra otherwise the villagers will be after compensation for trauma.

28 minutes after OH drove away leaving me standing next to the village pond, I arrived home, gasping for breath, blotchy faced and sweating like a mother lucker.

Second attempt was a drop off at the same location. But this time my breasts were more tightly restrained and I managed to start my jogging schedule of jog to the next lamppost then power walk until I reached the following one. My throat burned from inexperience and my endeavours at jogging slowed my fast walking to a crawl. Still, I shaved 4 minutes off my journey and felt satisfied when I collapsed on the sofa sweating.

People have asked if Easytones are worth buying at around RRP £80. So far, I would highly recommend them. My leg muscles and buttocks are definitely tightening and in addition to my power walks, they are worn to the supermarket or on the school run. In fairness though, any exercise would make my flabby unused muscles feel pinched but I am convinced the effect these trainers have on the way I walk makes a difference. You cannot help but wiggle your bum as you move with the EasyTones and as I tire, the unbalanced sole of the shoe becomes more apparent causing more strain on remaining upright. A four hour shopping trip around the city wearing EasyTones was shattering and I felt as if my tired legs had completed a marathon Wii fit balancing game.

The only problem is, this walking is wonderful for my legs and bum but it’s my stomach that needs attention. Not quite losing baby weight after each child, plus my increasing age and general limited movement, I have hips that any mother bearer would be proud of and the dreaded mummy tummy. My humongous hard bump has vanished leaving my stomach muscles feeling as strong as wet paper, sagging and upsetting. I have no problem with having a large bottom and being hippy (I don’t mean bohemian, I mean having a pair of hips to rival Beyonce or Fern Britton,) but this stomach needs some dedication and consideration. 

Does walking even have an effect on stomach muscles? I shall Google!

BENEFITS OF WALKING (The Walking Site) - Burns calories (should help with all the cereal eating), strengthens back muscles (helpful), slims your waist (winner), easy on your joints( I am getting older), strengthens your bones (???), lowers blood pressure, allows time with family and friends (bonus), shapes and tones your legs and butt (obviously an American site), cuts cholesterol (Carol Vorderman eat your heart out), reduces risk of heart disease, diabetes, & more (such as?), reduces stress (can eliminate ex-husbands?), sleep better (another bonus), Improves mood and outlook on life (A bonus in Stuart’s eyes?) Can be done almost anywhere (a given!), requires no equipment (it kind of does though as I have purchased cute yoga pants and the precious shoes) AND it's Free.

Okay, so walking is an all-round winner!

I’m extra proud then of my feat today. Playing a new version of the game called Rescue. Ava and I left the house with good intentions. We would absolutely jog for a lamppost, then walk, then jog, both punching our alternating fists forwards with each stride. We lasted about 10 minutes before she got a stitch however, she soldered on. There was no fixed plan of where we were going but would see what direction our feet would take us. Slow walking, medium paced to power walking with a wiggle progressing to a jog (our feet just barely left the floor and we could be passed by a pensioner with a frame,) we varied the speed as necessary. It was becoming a beautiful afternoon and it was time preciously spent with Ava, who now stays home on a Saturday while the others see their Dad. We talked, when we weren’t out of breath, about life in general and plodded on.

We walked through our village, then the next two after that. On entering the fourth village we decided to quit. Honestly, I could have continued, but I was more than aware that Ava was starting to struggle and was so proud of her for not wasting her afternoon lying on the sofa watching Mary-Kate and Ashley reruns.

The game now becoming Rescue, the plan was to call Stuart to come and collect us by car but there was a glitch in the plan…my iPhone had crashed and wouldn’t restart.

The thought of attempting that distance back brought tears to my eyes. Ava looked fearful as it dawned on her too. Some of my fumbling must have worked as the phone starting ringing and I could see a photo of Stuart on the screen. Hurrah, we were saved.

So this week I have walked a total of 9 miles in 2 hours 22 minutes. It’s hardly record breaking but it is a beginning to something much greater, I hope. 

My need to justify spending a significant amount (for me) on a pair of EasyTone trainers, has resulted in a commitment in this new challenge to lose weight.

Several hours after my walk, my shins ache, my calves throb any my EasyTones look as pretty as ever.

Seven Things That Make Me Grumpy Meme

I haven't been tagged in another's post 

nor have I tagged another in this 

but this meme appealed to me, allowing a grouchy rant... 

#1 Coat-hangers - Whether I can explain this annoyance, I'm not sure. Maybe it's the association of doing laundry or the system I use; Gathering heaps of clothes until our wardrobes are empty then from the collection of coat-hangers in a box, I will attempt to try and find the perfect hanger for each item. The item then is hung on a hook until I can coax the owner to collect and store it in their room.
Clothes come off the hangers regardless how carefully I put them on. They seem to clug together and become impossible to separate and make such a horrendous noise. Correctly, I knew my explanation would be poor as I have no justification for my hatred. I simply know I feel more than irked just thinking about them.

#2 Fish - Never have I been able to eat it, look at it or tolerate the smell of it. I just would never be able to digest something that has scales. Sometimes I can cope with watching live fish swimming in a tank, pretty ones, but I can't look directly at their freaky bulbous eyes or their poo that hangs down like a thread of cotton. I shudder at the thought of them gasping when out of water and if they panic and flap, tail curling and head swaying, I simply become ill.
The smell of fish to me, is like garlic to a vampire. I cannot sit near anyone in a restaurant eating it and the sight of tuna mayonnaise on the counter in Subway, slopped onto the bread with an ice-cream scoop (baulks) has actually deterred me from eating there. My children only eat fish at school and I make a mental note on that day not to let them kiss me at bedtime but for me to peck their forehead. The same goes for OH, if he betrays me and brings home a fish supper, even after brushing his teeth, I won't go near for a few days.

#3 Doctor's Receptionists - A breed of their own with no customer service skills, in fact, no people skills at all. They are obnoxious, aggressive and patronising which surely can't be part of the job criteria . They need to fully remember they are civil SERVANTS serving the public at a time of vulnerability. You can hear the sadistic pleasure in their tone after coercing you to divulge your embarrassing symptoms, arguing the need for you receiving medical attention, then arrogantly telling you, there are no appointments available until next week. Vile creatures.

#4 The "Next" Sale - Queuing at 5am in front of an average shop to FIGHT for some average styled clothes that have a couple of quid knocked off the price. Attempting once, after the hype enforced by the rest of my "mums with kids" circle of friends I considered that I could be missing out. Being a mother of three, a lazy one at that, whom loved her sleep, I could only commit to taking a mooch a couple of hours later. You know, at an hour when the normal people when shopping. I was advised that the best would be go11ne but there would still be bargains to grab. I didn't think my friend was being literal. Grabbing, pushing, snatching, running and at one point I witnessed some arguing. That was the point that made me drop the few items I had gathered and head for the door. I try an avoid Next at all costs now, feeling scarred for life.

#5 Fearne Cotton and Edith Bowman - I'm unsure as how or why these two specimens have careers as presenters. Whether it is on radio or television, they always fail for me. Their voices are beyond irritating and I would happily tune in to the sound of nails on a blackboard than to listen to their "unsuitable for radio" sounding drivel. Both consistently look as if they have been dragged through a hedge backwards, then pulled along a path and finally dunked in a pond over run with weeds. I am heavily irked that these people get to cover festivals that I cannot attend and in order for me to experience any of the performances, I have to restrain my overwhelming urge to smash the television screen and sit with clenched teeth being another number adding to their ratings.

#6 Primark    - Tat, pure and simple. Never have I been successful in finding anything that fitted well or looked anything more than shocking quality. The nature of the shop reminds me of a jumble sale and things just seemed to be packed in tightly, so crammed that everything just falls on the floor when you try to find your size. Unfortunately, my daughter loves Primark and as she gets more tat for her money than other shops. I know this is incredibly controversial and that many are totally satisfied with everything Primark has to offer and I am the minority, but I can’t abide the place. More annoying than the shop, is it’s following. The place is always chocker and even my nan is a fan of “Primart,”  I have endless references to it on my Facebook newsfeed and I’m the only one that doesn’t belong to a “Primarni” group. I’m not being snobbish whatsoever and often shop for clothes in supermarkets due to convenience and price but there is something about this particular store that makes me start cracking my knuckles at the thought of it.

#7 Blogger or Opera  - Both are crashing and Blogger isn’t auto saving my work resulting in mucho frustration as this is my fifth attempt to finish this post.

Morning Snugness

After going on the school run, I crept back to bed this morning.

I had stupid insecure dreams last night that really upset me. Stupid dreams that OH had cheated and was leaving us all. Followed by a couple of various nightmares, feeling under the weather and a restless baby, I was shattered and worn this morning.

OH was half asleep and baby was snuggled into his chest. I lay on a tiny slither of bed behind him, briefly kissing  and stroking his back before falling back to sleep, holding onto him for warmth, for comfort and for safety(could have rolled out of bed at any given moment.) When baby started to grizzle, I crept the other side to feed her. OH snuggled so tightly behind me that at times, I couldn't move or breathe. It was perfect and we all fell back to sleep.

It's been ages since we cuddled in bed and this was exceptional, completely needed, erasing my ugly sleeping thoughts instantly. I love his squeezy hugs.

Baby's First Jabs

Baby had her first jabs today and surprising I was calm about the whole thing. At moment of impact, it's not the most pleasant experience to be holding down your child as it wriggles with pain and fear, but it your level of trauma eases with the amount of children you have. With my eldest, I think I had nervous stomach pains for days previous then spent 3 or 4 days racked with guilt after.

 So calmly, I entered the nurses room, to strangely be met with a health visitor? I think she is some special, multi-skilled, superhero of a health visitor who obviously has more capabilities than the mediocre normal ones. She greeted me without making eye contact and told me to sit in the plastic chair that stood lonely in the centre of the room. Standing directly over me she spoke of what was to happen in the following few minutes. She towered down, still avoiding eye contact and explained how Baby would receive two injections. The first to given in the right thigh, then I was to turn her around WITHOUT comforting her so her second thigh was exposed ready for the sequel jab. She told me, in a matter of fact tone, that it's pointless comforting the baby when she is going to feel the pain again.

My blood pressure started to rise.

Why this women felt she could decide whether or not my child could be hugged or reasurred at a time of distress, I have no idea? I can empathise it must be challenging trying to administer an injection if a mother is flapping about fussing over her child and that parent's (over) reactions can be influential but I had been a picture of serenity so far.

The trout (as I have later come to reference her) then checked on baby's current health. All is fine I confirmed, apart from a restless night due to to teething accompanied by a slight temp..."She is too early for teething!" she interrupted. I repeated with nods of confirmation that she was in fact teething and I could now see and feel a tooth coming thr..."She is too early for teething!" I looked up at her, towering above me as I was again interrupted, her eyes closed as she spoke. I possibly snarled.

The blood pressure crept up

Brave baby girl whimpered a little with the first jab and not to slow down the process, I spoke to her reassuringly as I turned her around, the second injection quickly following. She instructed me to stand and comfort her. Not particularly paying to much attention to the trout,I snuggled Baby into my chest and pulled her blanket around, slowly rocking but by all means, not going overboard. She again instructed me to stand and comfort my child. Could she not see that I was cuddling her closely, wrapping her safely within her fleecy shawl? For the third time she demanded I stand but this time explained her command. "If you stand, she knows it is all over." I think I possibly glared at her.

She smirked to ridicule my query, of how long to wait outside within the Doctors surgery, just in case of a reaction to the vaccine, which had always been the advice given when the big kids had their jabs.

I was told to leave and I didn't need telling twice. Practically sprinting, carrying my half stripped baby in my arms, struggling with my changing bag and a bundle of leaflets, wedged into baby's health "red book" record, I made it safely to the car park. Only to be stopped by the Trout shouting me. She had given me the incorrect record book. Breaching another baby's data protection and right to confidential medical information.

What another stunning experience at my increasingly crap new Doctor's surgery!

Embrace And Celebrate? I'm Not Sure

A shopping trip was required before the big kids return to school tomorrow. Clothes shopping in the city, our first big outing since Indigo was born.  We were going for specific purchases, a sign that my children are getting older. The shopping trip, I'm guessing, most mothers dread? Purchasing their daughter's first bra.

I'm not much of a planner and threw some essentials quickly into a bag, before bundling the tribe into the car. A 30 minute drive and we were approaching our first shop, aiming to please all, the first stop was a toy shop.  Hiding Lego products for Finn's birthday at the side of the pram so he wouldn't see, then distracting him as I got to the counter to pay. It's one of my skills. I don't have many but every time I have been shopping for gifts, I have always had the receiver with me.

The purpose of opting for a journey into the city was to visit a particular shop that isn't local, a shop I detest. Primark. I have such issues with the places (see meme blog) but crazily, my daughters love it. Word on the proverbial street being they carry stock of first bras and crop tops, so I caved.

I am prone to exaggeration, but not on this occasion. Just under three hours later we managed to fill two big brown bags full of crop tops, bras, stuff for Finn and even a sports bra for myself. It had been such a task manoeuvring around such a busy shop with the pram and a sulking six year old boy who was suffering because his "legs were hungry." With promises of fast food, I managed to pop to one more shop before Finn collapsed of exhaustion and within 8 minutes, had selected and paid, for Indie's next size of clothing. We could finally get food.

Settling with our McDonalds I ponder our purchases. Crop tops and bras for my daughters. Gutted. Initially Mia (10 year old) had been almost squeamish about purchasing a bra when I offered, the topic arising after a comment she had made about a girl in her class. I was relieved that she felt she didn't need one but at least the offer was "out there" and she knew when she felt ready, that she wouldn't worry about how to approach asking. 2 days later she asked for some crop tops.

When we arrived in the kids department of Primark, we were faced with options. Options that I had prepared for mentally. Plain crop-tops that look like sporty tops or short vests. I could cope with crop-tops. Then there were crop-tops shaped with a gathering in the middle pulling them into a bra shape. I was semi okay with those too. Then there was the actual bra. I expected the quality and design to be of a sports bra, all thin material and plain white but I was faced with a mini adult bra, with what I can only categorise as padding. I was safe though, the girls weren't ready for bras. Maybe physically but not emotionally, yet. My safety lasted seconds. All varieties, colours and sizes were being rapidly chucked into the basket as younger girl had initiated bra interest and older girl jumped right in excitedly. I flowed along, maybe hoping that their would be severe fitting issues in the changing rooms or that they wanted the novelty of trying, but not buying.

We left Primark with two LARGE bags and £90 worth of purchases. Apart from a few bits for Finn. It was spent on underwear for the girls. Anyone that shops at that store will know that £90 will go a LONG way and be exchanged for a substantial amount of items. The girls also wanting new knickers and obviously, to go with their new crop tops, selected more grown up garments such as hot-pants with logos and patterns. Their argument being, that some of their current underwear had pictures of fairies on!  You can't wear Disney knickers with a bra. I'm pretty sure I sighed heavily, maybe even rolled my eyes but I refrained from commenting.

Eating my French fries I tried to decipher my feelings. Should this be a day to remember? A mother and daughter bonding day? How did I feel the day I got my first bra? I remember asking my mum for a bra and her just nodding her head, taking me on the next available day to get one. No questions asked, no comments made. I don't think I even needed one but two girls in my class now had them. I think I was nine years old.

I definitely felt like I had done the right thing, for once, by not making a big issue of anything and being led by the girl's decisions. I'm expecting criticism from somewhere to be honest, maybe from their father, but I'm confident that the right purchases were made. Reaching for the shopping bag just for reassurance, I needed another glimpse of them. The bag was missing.

8 year old girl had been carrying it. Trying not to freak out I asked her where it was. She shrugged.

I don't know what upset me more, the thought of wasting money or the thought of facing that shopping again for another 3 hours.

Ditching my fast food and abandoning the kids, I RAN to the previous shop where I had bought baby clothes. There it was, sat mid aisle with shoppers just strolling past it. What a relief! Returning to collect the kids, the bag swaying proudly as I walked, smiling, now pleased we had bras within our possession. 

This morning I could see lines under their uniform, confirming which of their new garments they had chosen to wear and my feelings changed again. I remember the excitement (and uncomfortable feeling, like wearing glasses for the first time) I felt wearing my bra to school, thinking I was suddenly a woman, that a piece of fabric had flung me into adulthood and somehow everything was different.

With sadness I made the 3 mile drive to school in silence. So do I embrace this momentous rite of passage or deny that a hidden piece of material under their clothes, has any significance at all?

Embrace or deny?  I haven't allowed myself to decide yet.

Virtual Mother and Baby Group

After M was born, I became a toddler group junkie, spending my weekdays popping from one church hall to another, engaging in baby talk whilst drinking endless cups of weak, warm tea.

Luckily a group within the group formed and we bonded for life?!? Moving from the toddler groups to afternoon coffee in our homes, to pre-school and beyond, leaving the children behind and socialising together as "ladies that lunch" or drunken woman allowed out on a rare occasion to the pub.

The plan, 8 weeks ago, when the baby arrived was to yet again, infiltrate the local baby clubs and bag myself some new pals as I currently have zero in my new town.
However, things are slightly different now due to a certain social networking site. And I don't mean that certain social networking site always mentioned on The Jeremy Kyle Show, I mean the one championed by a national treasure (actor, writer, journalist, comedian, television presenter and film director.)  A moody, sulky, teenage brat of a pop singer and a silver-foxed daytime TV presenter. The site with lots of @@@@.

I have managed to acquaint myself with a variety of mums and mums-to-be on this social networking site and spent the months leading up to baby's birth, forming online relationships with them. I've had more interest and celebration from these internet strangers than from my real-world aka Facebook friends.

I now have experienced mums on tap, to quiz on random parenting issues and share my frustrations. First timers, than I can pass on my knowledge to, share birthing stories with and smile as they gush and publicly brag with overwhelming pride, at each new stage their baby enters. Then the newbies with bumps, who are teetering on the edge of a new parenting world and counting the days with excitement and fear, until their bundle arrives.

The world of mummy-blogging goes hand in hand with the @@@@ social networking site and gives a more in depth look into parenting. The darker side. The bits containing the feelings that you don't necessarily share with real friends or family or acquaintances at a toddler group. The bits that scare you or make you sad. That make you feel like a failure or abnormal. The bits that you think no other person will understand.
These posts are more valuable than any parenting handbook, as you have the author within your virtual grasp to express your observations or to probe further. Something that was written by another on the opposite side of the country, who lives in a completely different world to you, not only feels today, exactly as you do, but will happily engage in a conversation about it. Topics ranging from the practical, such as help with breastfeeding to the emotional side, dealing with difficulties that relationships can struggle with, post baby.
Of course, It's not just the negative aspects of being a mother either, but the fun stuff, the best stuff, the stuff that becomes the author's "family memories". When you read these posts, you realise how privileged you are.

The natural progression is your own blog, where you get to rant about every fear or sadness, open the floor on your parenting techniques and to tell other mums of your journey so far.
The best bit about this world is that nobody judges. It's not about your ability to write or your story telling skills, it's just about an understanding. Of being part of that mummy world.

Maybe Mother and Baby groups will become obsolete.